Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Walla Walla - The Offspring
It happened in the middle of Crime Alley, at 4am on a Tuesday Morning.
Jokester found himself with his fingers awkwardly straddling the trigger of his gun. He could feel a trickle of blood drizzling down his shoulder and a rib jotting into a tender area where it really shouldn’t be. But it didn’t matter. He simply licked his lips with a slight chatter of his teeth. Gingerly, he stole a breath and squeezed his eyes. He took a moment to gaze down at the sight laid out in front of him.
His eyes gleamed as a heap of armoured feathers heaved in place. There was blood oozing into the grooves of the cobblestones, acting as little rivers leading towards a source made up of red stained steel. Jokester could barely make out his own reflection in the mess, but he still took a second to marvel at the feathers’ sharp beauty as the moonlight shone on them. As an engineer, he always wondered how they were crafted. Extremely lightweight but incredibly sharp. He had them lodged in his body enough times to know how deadly they were. But he knew from their shape that they had to be thrown in just a way, with brutal strength but a steady grace to really make them effective. A primal grunt knocked him out of his trance.
The Owl snapped his face up at him. His square jaw is coated in blood and the nose of his mask has been cracked off in the scuffle. His talons gripped his stomach tightly as more blood gushed out of his suit. Jokester took one careful step forward.
The Owl lashed out. Slashing his spare hand, which only had two remaining claws left, and snarled at Jokester like a cornered alley cat. He bared his teeth and the red of his gums as Jokester dared to take another step, now close enough to be in the red grooves, and winced ever so slightly. In fascination, Jokester watched as Owlman shivered in pain.
Ha, I gotcha you Bastard.
He took another step.
“Well?!” The Owl hissed.
“Well what?”
“Aren’t you going to kill me? Isn’t that what you want?” Owlman spat, glancing his golden eyes towards the gun in Jokester’s hand. Jokester bit his lip and smoothed the edge of his finger over the trigger.
“You know I would never kill you, Owlsie. You’re just too much fun.” Jokester replied, usually when he pulls that line it’s full of adrenaline and in the middle of one of their glorious dances. Not this time though.
“I’ve scarred you, branded you, killed your friends, broke your daughter, and took your own name from you. Yet, you won’t kill me.” Owlman stated, lodging himself around. His never blinking stare eyeing the edges of the buildings before finally dropping his gaze and grunted a “Why?”
Jokester sipped on the crisp air. It was such a cold morning for June. He should get the laundry in when he gets home.
“I don’t know.” He answered truthfully before pulling his coat around his tiny frame. “I think it’s the same reason why you haven’t killed me.”
Owlman snorted. He slowly brushed his claw against his belt before whipping out his grappling hook, Jokester as swiftly as a cowboy, blasted his gun and shot the grappling hook right out of Owlman’s grip.
“No.” Jokester affirmed. “Not tonight.” The Owl glared at his hook, now glued to the back wall by one of Jokester’s joke plunger darts. A curl of his lips made Jokester’s stomach lurch.
“But isn’t it how it’s meant to end? I create misery and you cheer them up. That’s your act, isn’t it Clown? But to do that, you need me around.” Owlman smirk grew, twisting it’s way onto his face. Jokester reached into his coat and pulled out another gun.
“Not this time. You’re on your own out here, Owlsie. It’s over, don’t you get it or do I have to explain the punchline? All your friends, all your little whores are locked up tight. You’re the last one.” Jokester smiled, aiming his new gun straight blank on Owlman. “This time, nobody is coming to save you, not even me.”
Flashes of blue and white suddenly sparked against Owlman’s stained armor. The sirens’ screams where getting closer. Jokester gritted his teeth, refusing to move his stare from Owlman. The Owl tilted his head like a curious bird, never blinking those dead, amber eyes.
“You retraced your offer?”
“I’m not shinning the torch for you this time.” He promised.
“You’re nothing without me, Clown. You know it, I know it, Gotham knows it” Owlman snarled, wiggling on the floor like an eel. “I gave you purpose.”
Jack didn’t say anything to that. He listened to the rain and the Owl’s constant growling, it was a lovely blend. He sat across from Owlman and waited patiently until the police came.
It took four heavily padded policemen and two elite security teams to take Owlman out of the alley. Jokester had watched as they chained him up, stripped him of his weapons, and shoved him into the back of the most airtight police van he’d ever seen. He’d been careful to never leave anyone out of his sight. Even with the Owl having his wings clipped, he was still capable of killing a civilian or twelve. It was only until the van was out of sight did Jokester remember to breath properly, and it was only when the paramedic rip the owlarang from his shoulder did he remind himself that he was actually in pain.
“Jack?!” A voice called. Jokester looked out at the sea of uniformed men and found a man in a tan coat slamming the door of his Ford Mustang, sirens still flashing on top of the roof.
“Jackie?! Are you alright?” The man ordered, concern lacing his loud voice as he shoved past officers. He marched across the scene. Jokester smiled playfully as he saw the man’s unique face.
“I’m okay Harv.” Jack said, shrugging lightly.
“I got here as soon as I could. I heard over the radio- Did that fucker hurt you again?!” Harvey Dent growled, locking his eyes squarely on the wound the paramedic was working on. Jack chuckled.
“Not as much as I hurt him.”
“I heard over the radio. Did...did you get him?” Harvey swallowed, the burnt side of his face found it hard to express what he needed to say. But Jack never needed that. Jack simply continued to smile with a toothy grin before nodding his head excitedly.
“The Owl has been caged.”
Harvey grabbed him and crushed him in a choking hug. Their laughs filled the air while tears of joy dripped on the ground. Jack inhaled the warm, smoky smell coming off Harvey’s coat as Harvey card his hand through Jack’s purple hair. In the space between Harvey’s shoulder and his neck, Jack could see the sun starting to trickle over the horizon from the west.
“It’s over, it’s finally over.” He whimpered.