Title: Afraid of the Dark
Author: Celia Tracy (aka Rae Street, aka Rainfall)
Summary: Kami's in the clutches of the Joker, and things are getting a bit strange.
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Status: WiP
Disclaimer: All Batman characters belong to DC Comics, and whomever else they belong to. Used without permission. Kami and all other non-DC characters are my own creations. Please don't sue me... I ain't got no munny, just a lil' plot bunny. Sue him instead. ;-)
A/N: The Angst Meter's rising, folks... and there's still a couple more chapters to go. Just thought I'd warn you. ;-)

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Afraid of the Dark
=Chapter Six: Road to Riches -or- Did I Just Rob a Bank?=

Suddenly, the door swung violently inward, pulling me off balance into the stairwell. I rolled onto my side in an attempt to get up; but before I could, rough hands grabbed me off the floor and pushed me up against the wall. It was the Joker. He'd been waiting the entire time. Why oh why did I have to be right?

"It took you long enough," he said in my face. "I've been expecting something like this since I felt those bobby pins through your glove this morning... now, be a good girl and hand them over."

I held out the two that I'd used on the locks.

"All of them... or would you prefer to be strip-searched?" he threatened.

With shaking hands I produced the third bobby pin. I really didn't feel I could bluff my way out of this one. Joker lowered my feet to the floor, took the bobby pins from me and put them in his pocket.

"Since you can't be trusted to stay out of trouble," he said with a shark-like grin, "You'll just have to come with us."

He slapped some duct tape over my mouth, which he'd painted white with pink lips on it. Rather strange, I thought. He probably got the idea from watching Charlie's Angels. Whipping out a length of rope and a strip of cloth, he quickly tied my hands behind my back and blindfolded me. Throwing me over his shoulder, he dashed up the stairs.

Wonderful, here I go for another wild ride in the trunk, I thought miserably. I really wished they'd install seatbelts in there.

But I was wrong about the trunk. Five minutes later we were speeding down the road; with me sitting between the Joker and Mace in the back of the car... with Joker laughing all the way. I have no idea where we're headed, and I think I miss the trunk.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Joker's car sped down the road, carrying within it four freaks and a freaked-out teenager; Namely, The Joker, his gang, and me.

Geeze! Doesn't this thing come with seatbelts? I wondered for the umpteenth time, as I was tossed from side-to-side like a rag-doll.

The man at the wheel (Brute, I believed) was driving like a maniac; swerving, twisting, turning, more times than I could count.

I had no idea where we were going, or how fast... and I was terrified that sooner or later, our wild ride would be brought to an abrupt and sudden end... one which would conclude with me flying over the front seat through the windshield.

Riding with these guys was more terrifying than the roller coaster I almost fell out of last year, due to a faulty leg-brace... And much worse than when I drove the Batmobile. At least I could see where I was going then.

A couple more twist and turns, and the car screeched to a halt. Unable to brace myself for the unexpected stop, I flew forward from the momentum like a human projectile; but Mace's heavy arm crashed into me, snapping me backwards into my seat. He whipped my blindfold off and untied my hands... I blinked in the sudden change of light, but didn't have a chance to react otherwise.

"It's Showtime, Boys," Joker said, anticipation glinting in his eyes.

Mace and Smokey piled out of the car, both carrying semi-automatic weapons. Joker grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the car with him. Brute remained in the driver's seat, with the motor running. Before I knew what was happening, we were racing toward the door of... The Gotham First National Bank?!

Mace and Smokey entered first. They stood together in the doorway, spraying a hail of bullets at the ceiling. Screams and shouts of surprise rang out. I couldn't see what was happening... Mace and Smokey were standing in front of me and the Joker. But I could hear everything that was going on.

"This is a hold-up!" shouted Smokey. "Hit the ground and don't anybody move!"

The sound of heavy footfalls alerted us to the fast approach of security guards. A shot rang out, hitting the door jamb bare centimeters from Smokey's head. In less time than it took to blink, Mace whipped out his hand gun and fired. A cry of pain and a thud followed instantly; unfortunately for the guard, Mace was a crack-shot. Screams of terror and scuffling echoed throughout the interior as the panicked people began running.

"I said, Don't Move!" Smokey shouted, as he let loose another hail of bullets.

The scuffling stopped, and everything became still.

"Get down on the ground, now... I won't tell you again," Smokey ordered. "The rest of you guards, slide your guns over, nice ‘n' easy."

I heard the guns slide across the floor toward us. Mace kept his gun trained on the crowd as Smokey picked up the guns. He pocketed them, then he and Mace both stepped aside to let me and the Joker through.

I was in shock at the scene before me. Bullet holes riddled the ceiling and walls of the room... chairs and potted plants had been overturned, and papers were strewn everywhere. Three Security Guards and a dozen or so other people lay on the floor, their hands pressed flat on the ground in front of them. Partially hidden behind a desk lay the fallen guard. I couldn't look; I felt sick.

"Okay, kiddo," Joker said to me. "You're going to work the crowd while Uncle Joker and Smokey grab the loot. Now, here's a nice big bag for you... just think of it as trick-or-treating, without having to wait for Halloween. Have fun!" he smiled as he gave me a bag, and a little push toward the crowd.

"If she runs, shoot her," Joker said in a low voice to Mace. "Smokey, you're with me," Joker said to Smokey.

Joker and Smokey ran for the bank vaults, grabbing the Bank Manager on the way. I was left standing in the middle of the room, holding the bag. I stood there, unsure of what to do. Joker actually expected me to rob someone?! What in the heck was going on!?

I heard a click and looked back at Mace; his finger was on the trigger of his gun. Though the gun was pointed at the crowd, the expression on his face was meant for me. Just give me one reason, any reason, to shoot you... you'd really be making my day, it seemed to say.

I gulped... and walked over to the nearest person with the bag held open. I'm a lousy, good for nothing coward. The man lay flat on the ground, too terrified to even look up. I knelt down next to him. When he saw me, he fumbled around in his pockets til he found his wallet... then he took off his watch, and with shaking hands he put both articles into the bag.

"That's all I have, I swear... please, don't hurt me," he hoarsely whispered.

I reached out to him, ever so slightly... but he shrank back in fear, his eyes closed tightly. I retrieved my hand... there was nothing I could do to allay his fears. Mechanically I stood up, and with the bag in hand, moved on to the next person... and the next, and the next.

With each person I came to, Wallets, purses, and various articles of jewelry tumbled into the cavernous depths of the bag I held. The sheer terror I saw on their faces echoed the terror I felt inside... but my discomfort was increased an hundred fold to theirs. Because I knew I was the cause, the reason, for their fear.

I wished fervently that I had the courage to calm their fears; that I had the courage to stand up to the Joker... to fight... to be a hero. But I'm no hero. I've never done a single heroic thing in my life.

The night that I supposedly rescued Batman from the warehouse can't in good conscience be called ‘heroic'... because I believe that he and I survived that night despite my actions, not because of them. I'm no hero... I'm just a coward, as my present actions testify.

I finally came to the last person. As I crouched down next to him, I was startled to see a familiar face. It was the man I'd met at the clinic... the one who had given me Dr Thompkins message. Now I felt worse than ever. I gritted my teeth, held out the bag, and hoped desperately that he wouldn't look up.

He retrieved his wallet from his pocket, and dropped it into the bag. But unlike the other people, he suddenly looked up straight into my eyes. I froze... Elderly though he may be, this guy had an inner strength all his own. I couldn't look away. He held my eyes for a few moments, in a measuring, soul-searching gaze.

A strange look flashed in his eyes, as if he'd had a sudden insight. I suddenly thought that maybe he had recognized the real me, the girl in trouble... instead of the freak I now appear to be. But the look was gone instantaneously. Perhaps I had only imagined it. How could anyone, especially an old man I'd only met once, recognize me in this getup?

He lowered his eyes to the floor, and I stood up. The encounter had left me feeling a bit shaky, and I felt like crying. When was this trial going to end? I noticed that my wanderings about the room had taken me close to the fallen guard. I couldn't tell if he was alive or dead. Although it made me sick to see him lying there, I had to know.

I took a couple of steps in the guard's direction... but a click from Mace's gun froze me in my tracks. I looked at Mace; his gun was pointed at me. My heart turned over in my chest... Mace was going to shoot me, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had nowhere to run... no one to call for help, even if I hadn't had duct-tape covering my mouth. My eyes were wide with terror as his finger began pulling back on the trigger...

"WAHOO!" Joker's excited shout made me jump. I turned sharply to see Joker and Smokey running back into the lobby, both carrying several bags of loot. I looked back at Mace; he had his gun turned back toward the crowd, and was no longer paying attention to me.

We've got the loot, gang, now it's time to scoot!" Joker said as he neared the door. He turned back toward me. "Kamille, my dear, a present for you," he said, taking an object out of his pocket.

He tossed the object to me, and without really thinking, I caught it with one hand. I looked down at it for a second; the object had Joker's face on it... and in a little window where the teeth should've been, there was a digital timer... counting down. A Joker Bomb.

In shock and terror, I threw the object high in the air and made a beeline for the door... still carrying my bag of ill-gotten goods. When I got to the door, Joker slammed some of the bags of loot into my arms and pushed me out the door.

"Here's a tip," he said. "Always leave ‘em laughing."

I looked behind me in horror. Through the glass door, I could see long tendrils of green gas shooting up from the bomb. The nearest people to it began laughing hysterically. I couldn't believe it... what had I done?! I just left a Joker Bomb in the bank with innocent people, and ran out the door with the Joker to save my own hide... that's what I've done. I'm worse than a coward.

I heard the wail of police sirens not far off. Joker grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me to the waiting car. He jumped into the back seat, pulling me in beside him. Mace slid in next to me, and Smokey piled into the front passenger seat. By this time the sirens were almost upon us. Brute slammed on the gas, and with a squeal of the tires, we shot off down the road.

Cars swerved in all directions to get out of our way; one car hit a lamp post and another took out a fire hydrant. I looked through the back window... there were three cop cars chasing us so far. Mace and Smokey both leaned out of their windows and started shooting.

I crouched down in my seat with my hands pressed tightly against my ears, staring in disbelief at the bags of money at my feet. Is it my imagination, or did I just help rob a bank?

"Now, isn't this fun?" Joker asked, smiling at me.

He calls it fun... I call it a disaster. How can he sit there so calm, so relaxed, with cop cars chasing us and bullets exploding all around us? I really want to go home right now...

Brute ran a red light and skidded around a corner. I gripped the seat and my eyes went wide; we were going the wrong way down a one-way street! More cars swerved... ten to fifteen cars plowed into each other behind us, including two of the police cars that were still chasing us.

One police car managed to break through a gap in the wreck and was still hot on our trail... until Mace got a clean shot of it's front tires. The tires blew, the car veered sharply, overturned, and skidded several yards on it's top side. Sparks flew everywhere.

We spun around another corner, this time headed in the right direction. But at the next intersection of that street was a road block. Three police cars sped out into the intersection. Officers piled out of the cars, weapons drawn. Brute didn't even blink... he just pet pedal to the metal. When the officers saw we weren't slowing down, they began firing.

Brute smashed through the barricade and the officers leapt out of the way. Brute crashed through a space in the line of police cars; they ricocheted to either side of the road. This car was built like a tank. I'd never seen anything like it. The officers shot off a few more rounds at our retreat until we were out of sight.

There were other sirens in the distance, but the police cars were too far off to catch us. We had gotten away. I hung my head in grief and shame. Joker lounged against the back seat, arms behind his head, acting all pleased with himself.

Something suddenly ricocheted off of the windshield. Brute cursed and swerved, causing those of us in the back seat to topple over. ouch... I thought, dragging myself off of the floor and rubbing my head.

"Brute, what is the matter with you?" Joker angrily demanded.

"Him," Brute replied, motioning behind us.

Him? Him Who? Batman? Though Dr Thompkins note had said he was still recovering, a spark of hope burned within me. Not daring to breath, I turned to look out the rear window. Joker did the same, his expression expectant. But it was not Batman, as we had supposed.

Perched upon a sleek looking motorcycle was a man dressed in black, with a black mask and a blue emblem on his chest. It was Nightwing... it had to be! I had never seen him before in person; but I'd heard he'd been in town since Batman's disappearance. Despite the predicament I was in, all I could think when I saw him was... wow...

Joker's face drooped. He really had been hoping to see Batman behind us.

"Oh, well... que sera, sera," Joker said, shrugging. "He isn't Batman, but he'll have to do. The chase is on, Boys... let's make it one to remember." And he laughed.

I thought Brute had been driving like a madman before... but he managed to outdo himself. We tore down the streets of Gotham, going over 100 miles per hour. Everything was a blur... all except for Nightwing and his motorcycle behind us. We swerved, he swerved. We turned corners, he turned corners. He matched us move-for-move, always with us, never far behind.

Mace and Smokey shot at him... and missed. But the bullets had come a little to close to him for comfort. He suddenly turned into an alley, and I thought we'd seen the last of him. But I was wrong.

When we got a little further up the street, Nightwing suddenly came out of nowhere. He'd used another road to get ahead, and was headed straight for us. I watched in horror as he came closer and closer. I was sure we were about to meet in a terrible crash.

Nightwing flung something at Joker's car. The object hit the windshield, cracking it down the middle. Web-like cracks began forming, spreading outwards from the big crack. Brute cursed and jerked hard on the wheel, flipping a u-turn and taking the car back in the direction we'd come. I looked out the rear window, just in time to see Nightwing fling another object in our direction.

The car jerked violently, nearly overturning as the left rear tire blew. With his steering capabilities, Brute managed to keep the car upright, and moving. But we were slowing down... Nightwing was almost on top of us. Joker frowned. This was not working out to his satisfaction.

"Alright, that does it," Joker said. "Fun and games are over. Let him have it, boys."

Smokey pressed a button on the dashboard. The trunk flew open a few inches; I watched, mystified, as thousands of green marbles spilled out of it onto the roadway. Nightwing was too close to us to avoid the marbles. He tried to swerve, but lost control of his motorcycle. He skidded for several feet before finally coming to a stop against a building. He lay there, very still, no sign of movement or life.

At Joker's order, Brute turned the car around and drove closer to where Nightwing lay.

When I saw Nightwing lying there, my last spark of hope died within me. I no longer believed that everything would turn out alright in the end. I was completely trapped, with no way out. I knew I was done for. How could I possibly survive, where the strongest men I know die?

I have been a witness to so much violence. First there was Batman, who I had seen lying in a pool of his own blood inside the warehouse. Next, the security guard in the Bank. Now Nightwing, sprawled out on a sidewalk amidst a litter of green marbles, looking so much like a broken doll. How could this happen?

Things like this didn't happen on tv. Good guys always win, bad guys always go to jail. But, then again, tv is fantasy; a culmination of peoples dreams and ideals. This is reality; where anything can happen, whether you want it to or not. In television, a person can take 100 bullets and survive without a scratch, if the writers write it that way. In reality, if a person takes 100 bullets, they end up with a closed-casket funeral.

I turned away from the scene, trying not to look as disheartened as I felt. But a movement caught my eye. I turned to look, and was relieved to see Nightwing lift a hand to his head. He started to get up...

Mace cocked his gun, pointing it out the window at Nightwing. Nightwing looked up, just as Mace started pulling on the trigger. There was no time for Nightwing to move out of the way. I threw myself on Mace, shoving the gun aside. The bullet ricocheted off of the building, just inches away from Nightwing. Mace angrily threw me off of him, and took aim again.

But the sound of police sirens stopped him... they were too close for comfort.

"Brute! Get us out of here, now!" Joker ordered.

Brute slammed on the gas, managing to drive above 80 mph even with the flat tire. I looked up at Mace, just in time to see him raise his gun. With a look of pure rage, he cracked the butt of the gun hard against my skull. Everything faded to black.

Chapter Seven