Thread: Batman: The Old Knight

It took an insurmountable amount of self restraint not to whirl and sink her teeth into his hand as she sat there, listening to him talk about Nothing. Morris. She didnt have the patience for this. She could only imagine why the Batman had held the Joker as an enemy on such a personal level. With the green crayon sketch thrust in front of her, she could only blink, because anything she said was likely to get her strangled on the end of her chain. Or worse, left there and forced to drink from the water bowl so that she didnt die of dehydration. She didnt like being sent out on a fools errand. And with the way he described the place, he could very well be setting her up for a death trap. That was, if she was stupid enough to get herself killed. She was the best at her job, so that was unlikely but shed sure like to know what was in this box that looked like little more than a toolbox or tackle kit that was so important. And what, precisely, the traps were. She wasnt, however, interested enough to know right then. And she doubted the Joker would be sharing any more details with her if he hadnt offered then already. I dont make promises, she muttered as the chain was unlatched from the metal collar and her wrists were freed, whereby she immediately lifted her hands to yank off her gloves, examining her chafed skin with pursed lips. That was going to take a good bit of lotion to smooth over, and long sleeves to mask unless she wanted anyone to think she had spend the last several days tethered to the head of a bed or something equally gutter-minded and terrifically untrue. Now free, save for the collar, she rose swiftly to her feet not bothering to distance herself from the clown. If he meant real harm, she suspected he would have made it apparent by now. Selina folded the gloves, tucking them between her thighs as she lifted her agile fingers to fiddle with the clasp of the collar. She didnt want her claws digging into the skin of her neck, but it was no use anyhow. The circular scrap of metal was locked, and the Joker apparently didnt plan for her to be slipping out of it any time soon. Maybe it had a tracking device in it. Or it was a nice liability to make sure she returned with what he wanted. Or maybe he just thought it was funny. Had she been in possession of real cat ears, they would have been perked toward the villain as he spoke and flattened back at the sound of her name. She should have suspected he would know who she was. But that didnt change the slow, boiling anger that was erupting in her stomach to eat its way up her throat. She swallowed it. Youre the one tugging my chain, Joker, Im in the palm of your glove. If youve got cream waiting for me when I get back, maybe Ill bring you your box with a bow right now I want the specifics of the location. Im not going on a scavenger hunt. She paused, weighing the next question, unsure whether or not he would answer. Unsure of herself, too, and whether she needed the distraction of knowing. What did you do with Bartholomew? She wondered vaguely if he would mistake the note in her voice as concern. She was concerned all right. Concerned with what kind of alibi she was going to need if the bastard was dead. If that were indeed the case, the Joker could be making a thousand problems for her at the same time he solved one. How to handle the police, where to claim she was for the past - however long she'd been chained to his chair, how in the world she would be able to pretend to mourn him when she was positively ecstatic with the fact that she would never have to look at him again... But on the bright side, she needn't worry about the expenses of a divorce, or getting him to pick up the pen and sign the papers.