A Joke Gone Wrong

Stalemate

Robin's POV

I've got my hand clenched in fist, the metal digging into my skin, almost piercing it. I'm just filled with so much anger that it won't take much for the cap, barely containing this volatile emotion, to blow.

I'm sick of this bastard screwing with Gotham. I'm sick of him screwing with the Hearn family. I'm sick of him screwing with my own family. And why? Because of our connection to Bruce Wayne, the Batman.

Please, dear people, do not mistake me for having a grudge against Bruce. He is a formidable force and he is the closest thing I've had to a parent since my current captors hands. If there were ever anyone I would trust with Kate's life, it would be Bruce. No. It is The Joker that my quarrel is with.

He will pay for the damage he has done to Gotham and it's citizens.

Kate's squeak of fear made me realize the fact that we had entered what I referred to as the "torture/video/bribery room". Apparently i'm not the only one with bad memories in this room.

I'll kill him, I swear.

We are both forcefully shoved into chairs that are set in parallel to each other. I reach out and link my fingers through Kate. She's shaking, poor child. She's been traumatized enough by this son of a bitch enough times in her life, I'm surprised she isn't just constantly a ball of nerves.

I flinch when a hand falls on my shoulder. I attempt to writhe free of the grasp but it is tightened into an iron lock around the bone. I try to keep my face expressionless but can't suppress the look of disgust crawling over my features when I felt his breath in my ear.

"Don't do anything ... stupid, OK kid?" He paused but I remained silent. He leaned in closer and my body stiffened as the rough surface of his lip brushed along the outline of my ear. "You try anything and it backfires on her, kid. It's your choice." I clenched my fist around the shard of metal and had to physically hold myself back from stabbing it into his heart right then and there. The thought of his leather gloves bruising Kate's fair skin was enough to leave me with my teeth sunk into my bottom lip and my fist pressed firmly against my side whilst the other squeezed her frail hand. She had her head hung low in defeat. It only fueled my rage more.

One of his cronies stood behind the camera that was sitting on a tripod about six metres back from our chairs. I must admit that the camera looked expensive, probably stolen. I plastered an impassive look on my face. After years and years of taking drama, I had become a master of slipping seamlessly into characters. It only seemed to be extreme emotion that I couldn't bury. Kate, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Aside from the obvious shaking, she had shrunk in on herself in an attempt to make herself appear as small as possible. Her eyes were flicking all around the room, brimming with fear.

My eyes followed his movement around the room to the back of the camera. I gritted my teeth as he counted down from three on his fingers. He pushed the button and moved around behind our chairs, one hand on each of our shoulders.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here." He paused for effect. "Time's up, Gotham. I had hoped that the value of your top two performing teenagers would have revived your empathy for each other. Obviously not." He trailed off and we watched in the reflection of the lens as he backed away a few paces, still within reach mind you, and pulled twin pistols out of the belt of his black pants. Kate began violently sobbing. I couldn't even imagine the horrors this man had enacted on her over her seventeen years and the memories this particular act must bring surging up in a tidal wave of heartbreaking emotion.