[ WP ] - Joker seeks vengeance for the death of Batman

It was different now. It would always be different now. He was gone. His darling, his special man. 
 
 He did not feel the frown on his face the way he felt his grin so many times before. It was just who he was now, what he had become. The Joker no longer laughed or smiled. It was an imbalance, and it had to be set right. 
 
 `` Harley, dear,'' He said at last, his voice deep and dark, `` would you ensure that this gets to where its needed most? I'm afraid I might not be able to deliver it myself for a time.'' He handed the parcel to the frightened girl, who stared at him with eyes wide as saucers. *She thinks its a prank*, he realized, pitying the innocence she always seemed to cling to, even in her darkest moments. 
 
 The joker tucked his gloved hands into the deep, empty pockets of his trench coat, which swung and swayed with the cold Gotham wind and rain, and stepped into the darkness. Blood will spill tonight. But only of the guilty. 
 
 First he dropped by Cobblepot's club. The neon letters that spelled out'Iceberg Lounge' hummed dimly, music banging and pulsing through the air like a heartbeat. A cold heart for even colder men. The guard recognized him immediately and began to draw a weapon. He lifted his gaze from under his hat and glared at him. The very air seemed to still then, and the guard moved aside, apologizing. 
 
 When the doors opened up, the world became bright. The air was thick with sweat and lust and alcohol, lazers and lights highlighting the smoke, sending a lurch in his stomach. Once the stench may have enticed him, but it only sent him on a spiral these days. Each pair of eyes that spotted him went wide and moved away. Some even bolted to the door. None of them mattered to him. Once maybe, in some sick way, but no longer. He reached the center of the floor and removed his hat. The fat man spotted him almost immediately, and a muffled command silenced the room's beat. The lights came on. 
 
 `` What do you want, clown? Ca n't yeh see I'm in the middle of celebratin'?!'' 
 
 Cobblepot's grin was crooked and foul, punctuated by a cigar at one end. His hooked nose flared at the nostrils, sending smoke billowing out. 
 
 `` Celebrating? Oswald, a man is dead.'' 
 
 `` What do you care? You'ated'im more than I did!'' He laughed. `` Come on,'ave a drink with me! No time for enemies now. Me Casa is too Casa, Amigo.'' A small chuckle echoed through the silent hall, but not his own as usual. 
 
 His frown cut deep into Cobblepot's mood, and the bird-like man seemed to realize what he'd come for. Oswald removed the cigar from his lips, planted it down into an ashtray, and bellowed for everyone to leave, even his guards. They all flooded out as a human river, funneling towards the exit. Many gave him cold stares, some even whispered threats under their breath. He cared not. Hollow people. 
 
 When they were gone, Cobblepot leaned over the railing and asked `` Why ya doin' this?'' Cobblepot had earned no answer. Only questions. And Oswald answered kindly enough, for the right price. He even dared ask him to kill a man. But in the end, he got what he came for, and left without a word. 
 
 Of course it was him. The stupid, stupid man. Of course *he* was the one to end him! The Man in Black had many enemies, but none quite so incompetent as this. 
 
 When he found his target, he was sitting at a table, telling his tale to a group of large men who had no doubt heard it all before. Edward Nigma laughed and twirled his tacky cane around, bathing in the glory of his kill as he watched through the high-rise window at Nigma's clever hideout. He was n't the only one who was angered by the death of Gotham's Finest Man, he found. 
 
 `` Listen, Payaso,'' Bane's voice grumbled so low it was like to shake the ground, `` I have more reason to be enraged than you. Let me kill this man. You owe me that for helping you find him.'' The lightning hid his movement for a flash, and he stared down the monstrously large man as if he were a child. Bane was silent, and turned back to stare hatefully at Nigma. 
 
 `` Are you ready?'' He asked, almost not waiting for an answer. 
 
 `` Si, Payaso.'' 
 
 Bane lifted a fist and smashed it into the glass. He fell through, his coat swirling around him in furious whips and cracks until he landed, crouched on the table. The lighting in the room was dead, thanks to the storm. Only a beam of light entered and glinted off the glasses of the killer. *He deserved better than you, coward*, he thought as he grabbed at Nigma's collar, watching fear wash over him. 
 
 `` N-no... NO! You're Dead!'' The faint smell of piss washed over the room as muffled screams and audible smacks and cracks were heard behind him. Bane had done his work, and done it well. 
 
 He moved into the beam of light, the frown closing in on Nigma. Relief quickly gathered, followed by swift panic deep in Nigma's green eyes. `` Why are you here? What do you want? Money? Power?'' The chills could be felt quivering into his arm, but he remained silent. He leaned forward to press his cheek to the Killer's, and whispered into his ear. 
 
 `` I want him back.'' 
 
 Nigma became still. A moment gathered while the half-wit collected his thoughts. `` You hated him more than anyone.'' 
 
 He leaned back and slapped Nigma across the face, spilling a false tooth to the ground. `` You green, foolish idiot. I loved him. He was the best man I ever had the pleasure of knowing, and so I had to make him better! I *did* make him better! I was the worst bastard this world had ever known. Every day, every night, Nigma, I pondered, plotted, on how to outsmart him, how to test him just enough the point of breaking. But he never did. *Never*. He worked through it, through all the pain I made him endure. He never once even *thought* about killing me, or you, or even Bane over there. We all earned it. Hell, sometimes we *wanted* it, but he knew better. He was better. And you...'' he gave him a hard punch, feeling his nose break under the pressure, `` you took him. Not just from me... from all of us.'' 
 
 `` Please,'' Nigma cried, tears running down his thin cheeks, `` I'll give you anything, just do n't kill me, please!'' 
 
 He jerked Nigma in his seat. `` *Kill you? * You really do n't get it, do you?'' With that, Bane lifted Nigma with one hand and carried him away, Joker on his heals. 
 
 `` You're sure, Payaso?'' Bane asked as he tied Nigma up in the back of the car. He merely nodded. With that, Bane took his leave, with something that looked like admiration on his face. 
 
 When he arrived, there were no cars parked outside, as they were likely still on duty. He opened the back and pulled Nigma out, dragging him to the doors of the Police Station. Nigma struggled, but was ultimately helpless. 
 
 Gordon was sat at a table inside, darting up and reaching for his pistol when he saw him. It was just muscle memory, though, and he soon gathered his wits. `` Got your package. You mean it, do n't you?'' 
 
 `` This time, Commisioner, I do.'' His voice sounded odd, deep and heroic. Familiar.... 
 
 The Commisioner nodded and put cuffs on him, reading him his rights as he took them both back to the cells. Nigma called to him once it was quiet in the station, some hours later, in the dark of night. 
 
 `` Why did n't you kill me?'' He asked. `` I've had lovers try to kill me over their dead ones before, or at least threaten to. Some even got close, but you... you never wanted to, did you?'' 
 
 He shook his head, a serious frown permanently plastered to his face. It would never go away. 
 
 `` Why then?'' 
 
 At that, he could feel moisture in his eyes. Tears, they were called. He had forgotten what they felt like. `` Because he would n't want me to.''
