Levity

I was halfway around the corner; fully aware it wasn’t worth struggling when the charred cards started to rain over the street. I barely heard the screams, my ears were ringing as my chest tightened and although Wade wasn’t at all rough I could feel the panic overtaking me.

“Goddamn it Eleanor, move.” He hissed, slinging his arm over my shoulders as he manoeuvred us further from the crime scene.

This was Jack’s big return. His way of making it clear to Gotham that he was back with a vengeance.

“Only fucking you would try to get on the bloody bus…” It wasn’t hard to tune him out with the roar still crashing against my skull. Police cars flash past and after a few minutes Wade flagged down a rare cab, shooting me a look I’m sure was supposed to be concerned as he slid in and pulled me with him. He didn’t seem worried that I was about to run; I should have used his considerably low opinion of me to my advantage. I could shove open the door and try and vanish in the growing crowd of horrified Gothamites, but then where would I go? They would cancel all transport out of the city now, there will be worries about bombs everywhere.

There probably was.

I risk a glance at Wade, his gaze is steely and hard on the back of the headrest behind the driver. My mouth is so dry it aches when I speak, keeping my voice quiet; “How many?” His eyes dart back and forth to the driver several times; he isn’t paying much attention to us, he has the radio on loud, reports of the attack being read in an overexcited voice. Wade answers just before the presenter announces the second bomb.

“Five.”

I feel my lips form the word again. How many people could fit on one of those coaches? Thirty, Fourty?

At least one hundred and fifty people dead, by far the most Jack had ever killed, had died by his hand. The ferry was a little stunt, to see who would turn and kill who – he’d been failed by people and their true internal sense of good.

A sense I feared we were all lacking.

“Five suicide bombers?” I’m surprised he hears me, but in response he shoots me a hard nod, enveloping my shaking hand with his. “Big man is back in town. People wanna impress.”

“By dying?” The ridiculousness of it all is dumbfounding. His clutch on my hand tightens, “Who is that to impress? That’s just fucking lunacy.” He shushes me carefully, and I catch the driver glancing at me in the rear view mirror. I bite my lip hard, the pain a reality of the nightmare like state the day has taken.

I keep silent, my backpack is digging into my spine but I don’t move either, clamping my eyes shut and trying to make sense of how quickly everything has spiralled back into shit.

That’s selfish and I know it. One hundred and fifty people dead, one hundred and fifty families torn apart. I’m worrying about myself, about the man responsible for those deaths and others. I’m scared of how far he will go, how little effect it has on him, his numbness to death and destruction. I’m scared he doesn’t have a soul.

I played a huge part in making him this way.

Any chance of redemption is long gone. For all of us. There’s no hiding now, Jack has brought me deep into this one, and there’s no escape. Whatever he has planned, whatever horrific schemes he comes up with in the twilight hours I will be involved in. A part of like never before. The wheels are set in motion, and with Jack there is no stopping them.

Especially with no Batman.
Gotham will rot. As will I. Right down to the core.

Wade barks something at the cab driver, and we’re drawing to a stop, the gravel under the wheels crunching. He nudges me, and I force open my eyes, my surroundings swimming. I don’t deserve to cry and I blink hard and fast, half aware of Wade watching me. The look on his face pisses me off more and I shove the door open hard, several steps away before he catches up. “You’re eager.”

“Where are we going? Where is he?” Several people brush past, we’re far from the bus explosion now. Although with five hitting in quick succession I don’t doubt we’re not close to another. More people dead because of Jack. My stomach turns and when I swallow it stings, acid trying to boil me from the inside out. “I was expecting you to be a lot more reluctant.”

“Fuck off.”

He smirks and for a flashing moment I want nothing more than to jam my fist into his face. “We’re this way.” His hand rests of my shoulder, and he steers me down an alleyway. It’s in-between two apartment blocks, small, fairly decent looking. I don’t recognise them. “Here?”

“It’s not far from the zoo. Thought you’d like that?”

“What?” His heavy elbow takes the place of his hand and he drags me closer to his chest as another couple pass. Her face is thick with a despair I can imagine my own mimics. “Why around here?”

“They’ll be scouring the Narrows won’t they?” He shrugs, as if I’m stupid. “So, Newtown is a much better way to go. Besides,” We’ve past the apartment blocks and we’re at another, the door beneath the fire escape when he slips a card from his pocket. “No rent.” He slides the card, tricking the locking mechanism. “Memories, isn’t there? Being in a basement flat like the old days.”

“Yeah.” I murmur, eyes adjusting to the weak light. Clearly this isn’t a popular entrance, but it saves us going around the front of the building. I follow Wade down the hallway, the wallpaper is hideous and transforms the building into any other of its kind. Wade keeps up a steady flow of meaningless chatter and sarcastic comments. He’s worried, worried about what he’s done. That’s obvious; typically with Wade the worse he feels the more he talks. Unless he feels terrible, he’s silent then and somehow that’s worse.

I wish he felt bad enough to shut his mouth now, obviously, he doesn’t and it physically makes my chest hurt. For him to sink so low. We pass a few doors, clearly not used and finally stop in front of one reading B4. “Home sweet home.” The urge to strike him makes my fingers twitch but I take a step back, letting him brush past me and open the offending piece of metal.

The room is far emptier than I had imagined, although by all accounts Jack had just sacrificed five of his men on his big opening number. Instead, there are six of them, three I do recognise unfortunately and one smirks at me. This even riles Wade, I can see it and he shields me from view with his body. The apartment looks like most in this condition, clearly, it’s been left abandoned – or the previous occupants were ‘asked’ to leave. It’s in fairly good nick but there’s still that incessant smell of damp and the furniture is sparse and worn. I edge around Wade, looking for him. He’s not in the living area at least, and I hardly doubt he’s at the stove making anyone some lunch.

I find my voice. “Where is he?” Wade waivers, and I move my gaze to the others. One, some youngish guy with a ridiculous neck tattoo points behind me. From the layout of the place, it must be the master bedroom. Jack always needs privacy when he’s plotting, he needs to distance himself and make it clear that he’s in control. He gets the best.

Neck Tattoo moves out of my way as I cover the space in several long strides, my hand going straight for the handle. I see him flinch, I don’t care and I wrench it down hard, pushing. It doesn’t move, the lock jingles as if to mock me and instead I slam my fist against the painted wood several times.

Other than my actions there is no other noise in the apartment. Everyone is waiting for his appearance, how he will react to such a rude interruption. He didn’t get as infamous as he is for being fair. Neck Tattoo physically removes himself from being anywhere near me, slinking over to one of the people I recognize. Bald-head, a scar behind his ear from being bottle, or slashed at, or some shit. He’s one of the smart ones, he comes and goes depending on things seemed to have been going.

But the only people who knew Jack before the Joker are Wade and myself. No-one else ever will.

I let my fist fall. The silence continues as we all wait for some sign he is even acknowledging my hammering. It has to be close to a minute, and I don’t dare turn because the tears in my eyes aren’t just of anger now- there’s a spiteful sting of redundancy, of rejection.

“Maybe we should…” Wade is cut off when there’s a clang and the door flies open. I don’t give him a chance to speak, and my shoulder crashes against upper arm and I storm past and into the bedroom, the light buzzing above me. I don’t know what to expect when the door gently closes and he twists the golden chunk of metal, locking it again. He turns slowly, and his expression is one of amusement.

I take a shallow breath, trying to control myself but instead I explode.

It was the furthest I had ever been from home. I’d barely been into the half-decent area of Gotham, hardly ever been in a car. So the vehicle pushing ninety an hour, and miles of barely lit road in front of us was exhilarating. “Why don’t you just go all out and stick your damn head out the window like a dog?”

The music is so loud his voice is barely even a whisper. I could only giggle, fingers struggling to grasp onto the winder on the door beside me. They slip down the plastic coating and my giggle becomes a huff as I attempt again. My lips tingle, and when I press them together in a pout they feel like a bubble on the verge of popping.

“I can’t!” Each syllable fizzles. And I let my hand fall back, watching as it smacks hard against my thigh. It doesn’t hurt, it just tingles more and I laugh again. “Fucking hell, you’re actually off your fucking face aren’t you?” His face blurs when he turns to glare at me, his lips are deep crevices. My words get caught on my tongue but I shake my head, so fast the world pauses for a split second before catching up with a whirl.

I’m too heavy, it’s no longer comfortable and instead I’m an anchor, and I’m sinking fast, the motion of the sea is crushing me. The weight on my chest is growing and my lungs cripple under the pressure.