Bruce's Little Orphan [John Blake]

Why So Serious?

Brooklyn

"Want to know how I got these scars?" The Joker's painted face was all that I could see, though I knew that my mother's dead body sat in the corner.

"No - No! No! Please, no!" I cried, begging for mercy. Why did he have to choose my family? He filmed my mother's murder, and cut it off, telling Batman to come and save me before it was too late.

But why would Batman come save the daughter of the reporter that hated him most? My mother constantly wrote in her articles in 'Gotham Times' about how all this was Batman's fault. Even though she was my mother, I didn't agree with her. And now, 'The worst thing to happen to Gotham' is my only hope.

"I believe that you are the first person brave enough to tell me no." He said, moving the knife from my lips, and pointing it at me. "I like you. What's your name?"

"B-Brooklyn."  I said, trying to sound brave. What did I have to lose?

"Brooklyn. . . . Now tell me, Brooklyn, how old are you?" He said, keeping the knife away from my face.

"Fourteen, your youngest kill yet." I said, watching the knife closely.

"Fourteen? So young. . .  So much potential. . . Could I tell you something? You don't need to die tonight. You're just bait." He told me. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or angry. I wasn't sure if I wanted to die with my last bit of family.

"You killed my mother, my last family. Kill me, I beg of you!" I pleaded, making up my mind.

"Oh, there are things in this world that are worse than death. For example, memories. Your own mind can be the scariest place on the planet." He said, bringing the knife closer to me. "So, I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to haunt you."

In one swift movement, he swung the knife down to my neck, by my jawline, and I suddenly felt a sharp pain. I screamed out in pain as the Joker's knife carved into my neck. I have a feeling that it's not just a cut that he's making. . .

Suddenly, the room was filled with what sounded like glass shattering, and a flash of lightning from the storm outside. I looked past the Joker, and saw a dark figure standing by the window. Batman.

I stared at him, tears streaming down my face, blood gushing from my neck, yet he didn't move, seemingly in shock. "Help me!" I suddenly screamed.

The Joker made the first move, moving to the other side of me, and holding the bloody knife to my neck.

"Nice of you to join us," The Joker said crazily, tightening his grip on me.

"Let her go." Batman said, his voice deep and demanding.

"I'll give you a deal. You take off that mask of yours, and I'll let her go."

"How about this as a deal: You let her go." Batman said, walking closer. The Joker threw me to the side, and willingly fought Batman. But, the thing was, to the side, was towards the smashed window. Before I knew it I was dangling out of the window, holding onto the curtain for dear life.

The rain cut through my face, and my vision was blurry. My hair stuck to my face, and the rain mixed with my blood. I was five stories up, and below me was only concrete. Suddenly, my mind changed again, I didn't want to die anymore.

The curtain broke off of it's place, and suddenly, I was falling to my death, screaming at the top of my lungs. I closed my eyes, and prepared for the crash. I'm coming, Joseph, I'll be with you, Mom and Dad soon. . .

Suddenly something grabbed me, and the fall was softened. I fell onto something that obviously wasn't concrete. I looked around and noticed that I was in some sort of car. In front of me, sat Batman, my savior.

"Buckle up." He said simply. I did as I was told as the top of the car closed over me.

We sped off as gun shots were fired at us by the Joker's men, but all I could really hear was my heart beating, feeling it in my neck. I suddenly felt dizzy, and toppled over to the side, the blood in my head rushing.

Was this what it felt like to die?