Panic! At the Disco

Bruce stood over the clown, still out cold. He had moved him to his fifth master bedroom, dressing his wounds. But now a question arose, what to do with him?

Alfred stood beside him, shaking his head at the injector in Bruce's hands, "Are you sure, sir?"

He nodded, "It's the only way, Arkham can't contain him, I think maybe we can do some good with this," he raised the object in his hands, "if Joker honestly thinks we're so alike, maybe he can change for the better."

"Or maybe he'll end up changing you for the worse. He may act like one, but he is no fool."

Bruce nodded, "He's crazy, but in his case, that also means genius."

Alfred sighed, "If you do this, you'll be stuck with this clown on your hands forever. Can you do that, can you live with that?"

He knew what he had to do, there was no other way to stop the clown, he had to do this. He raised the injector to the clowns neck, shooting the contents deep inside the villain's body.

Then he did the same to himself.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Joker awoke to a pain in his neck. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He grinned, considering what had transpired the previous day. The Bat had lost his cool, he'd gotten angry. The great unmovable Batman had lost it. All because of a few words he had said. He smiled to himself, everything was falling into place.

Speaking of places, where was he? Joker looked around, he was in some sort of bedroom. Dark blue sheets covered his body. He looked down to see he was wearing a hospital gown. Yet this place didn't seem like a hospital room. It didn't seem like prison either. It appeared to be someone's bedroom.

He turned his head to look around, spotting a lump of black sprawled on a long modern couch: Bruce Wayne. What was he doing here? Hell, what was the Joker himself doing here?

The Bat seemed to be asleep, soft snores coming from the dark mass that was the broad man.

So the room probably belonged to Bruce Wayne? But why would he want the Joker in his house? Why hadn't he sent him straight back to Arkham?

Unless he had something really evil in store for him? Had the Batman cracked more than the Joker originally reckoned? Maybe he'd snapped something deep inside the man and now he was going to keep him here as some sort of torture toy.

How fun this would be.

Joker chuckled, watching the man on the couch stir, grunting as he sat up. He watched as Batman took of his helmet, rubbing his eyes and yawning. How could he stand to sleep in that armor?

Noticing that the Joker was awake, Bruce put his helmet back on and stood, stretching before walking over to the bed. "How do you feel?"

Joker rolled his eyes, "I know who you are you, can cut the Lord of Darkness act."

He took off his armored face armor, glaring at Joker with a look of pure disgust. In return, Joker gave him a winning smile, pulling back the blankets as he tried to get out of bed.

Bruce shook is head, "Don't, your legs are pretty damaged."

Joker stuck his tongue out at the man, placing his feet on the ground and taking a step. He fell instantly, falling into Batman's waiting arms. The Bat raised his eyebrows in a 'I-told-you-so' expression. "I told you so."

Joker flipped him off as Bruce tossed him unceremoniously onto the bed. He looked at his legs, covered in bandages. The few patches of skin he could see were heavily bruised. Jesus Christ, the Bat had really taken it out on him. He smiled.

"So you just couldn't resist the urge to beat up your greatest enemy could you?"

Batman's eyes furrowed and for a moment, Joker could've sworn he saw a hint of regret on the man's face. But just as it appeared, his expression changed, becoming hard and somber once more. He stretched back on the over-sized bed. He put his hands behind his head, painfully crossing his legs, trying to look relaxed while every muscle screamed in pain. The ache wasn't nearly as bad as some of the pain he'd experienced before.

Bruce was staring at him, as if waiting for the clown to do some terrible thing, but Joker just grinned at him, "Lighten up, Brcuie boo, I'm not going anywhere," he waved at his busted legs for emphasis.

At last, the Bat smiled, nodding, "You wouldn't be going anywhere even if you could walk."

Startled at the Bat's sudden confidence, Joker sat up, meeting the dark gaze of the broad man, "And why is that?"

Bruce allowed himself a tight smile before returning to a frown, turning the tables on the clown, "Because I've injected you with a device that, when it gets too far from a similar device I've injected in myself, will admit an electric pulse that will immobilize you. From this point on, you are stuck with me."

Joker blinked. Wow. He'd really outdone himself this time. He recovered quickly however, smiling once more. "That's one way to ask someone out."

He loved watching the uncomfortable expression on Bruce's face as he thought of the idea of him and Joker on a date. From the Bat's expression, he was thinking about a lot more than a date. Disgust oozing through every pore.

This was going to be very interesting.

-_-_-_-_-_-

It was in the middle of the night when Joker began to plan a way out of his situation. He wasn't one to plan, preferring to feel things out. But if he wanted his freedom, he'd need a perfect strategy to get out of the iron fist of the Bat.

Speaking of the Batman, Joker could see him sleeping on the couch, back facing away from him. How was he going to get out of this. The device he'd implanted in them wouldn't even allow them to sleep in separate rooms, the man really needed to expand the range on the thing.

Or...

Joker sat up, rubbing his hands together as an idea popped into his head. Oh he was a genius, a crazy, insane genius. The way to get close enough to Batman to get that device out of his neck. He knew exactly what he had to do.

How fun it would be.

She said darlin' you know

How the wine plays tricks on my tongue

But you don't seem to change when you stuff all of

your feelings with drugs

Other boys you may have dated serrated your heart with a slice

But the cut of your love never hurts baby, it's a sweet butter knife