To Die a Hero ~ You Gotta Beat the Mind Games. Ch. 26

Okay, I just can't love and praise this girl enough. CaptainSweeneyToddett has two jobs, writes two amazing stories, and she still made time to make these works of art. Am I the only one thinking she deserves a round of applause? *stands and claps*


The WONDERFUL christinabeeina is too fabulous for words. She is a new addition to the psycho fan club, as aforementioned, so let's try not to scare her off just yet! Luv ya chica!


SillyArtist200 is as awesome as they come. This girl has made me more incredible banners than I can count on one hand, so that makes her like, the goddess of cookies! Adore her!


And my dear PurplePride89 must be thrown in here somewhere! I hope this update cheers you up, my friend! Now on to the story!

“Barbie!” The Joker greeted as amiably and cheerfully as ever, that wide grin painted red on his face. “I’ve missed you!”

With a bit of a sigh, I turned, turned away from the normalcy that I had said goodbye to, away from the silent flights, and to the Joker, the essence of insanity in my life. I was set for sail. A seaman never to touch land again.

“What?” I asked, with a small smile. “No helicopter? Am I not worth the effort?” Our last conversation echoed in my ears. I hoped like hell he had forgotten it, and if he hadn’t, wouldn’t pursue it further. Instead, I saw his gaze flicker to my midsection, as if he could still see the blood and bullets, the smile faltering for a split second before he returned his dark eyes to my face, looking as happy and crazy as always.

I walked with him to the door of the roof, and he opened it for me with great bravado. Inside were two of his dogs, Sparky and Otis, shouldering machine guns. “Apparently not worth the effort I am,” he told me quite happily. “Imagine my surprise when I’m contacted by the Batman of all people with information about where you would be tonight. ” He giggled. “What could you have said to him to get him to bust you out of the big house and hand you over to me?”

I grinned slyly, making my way down the stairs of the warehouse. It was difficult to see in the dark, so I stumbled a bit. “A magician never reveals her secrets.” My voice and everyone’s footsteps echoed around the stairwell.

At last, a door. I shoved it open and the cool air rushed to meet me along with all the city noises that I had left behind in the sky. The street was pretty deserted though, as it was only a few blocks away from the police station. In my mind’s eye, I saw the chaos happening right now. Poor Jerry was probably crazy with panic at having lost someone who was supposed to be in protective custody. He would search the building for me thoroughly before raising the alarm, and when he did, the building would be searched again before they would start to assume that someone had taken me. They might even find the alarm shut off for the roof.

But of course, by the time all this has taken place, I will have been long gone, finally safe with the Joker. That paranoia at being captured by Daniel like one of his butterflies could finally take a break. I could relax. The only thing I was in danger of now was the Joker, and he I could handle. I think.

We made our way to a beat-up van, I in the passenger seat and the Joker driving, and took off with tires squealing against pavement.

Having noticed our direction, I raised the question, “Which way are we going? Isn’t the hideout the other way?”

The Joker seemed in a superb mood. “Nope,” he informed me happily. “We’ve moved, cupcake. Couldn’t stay with that leak in my dogs. Danny boy would’ve been on the doorstep days ago.”

I accepted this answer without comment; Bill’s betrayal had disturbed me on many levels. How long had he been feeding Daniel information? What information did he give him? But most of all: Was it my fault he had turned to Daniel? Did I push him to it? Was I to blame?

None of these questions could be resolved then, however. Perhaps sometime soon I would get a chance to ask Bill about everything. Considering whom his new boss was, though, I hoped that I wouldn’t get that opportunity.

Life moves on.

“So what new is on the agenda?” I wondered out loud, falling back into the old routine of grabbing the door to avoid whiplash and preparing myself for each turn. The Joker really was a terrible driver.

The Joker’s tone was sinister. “Dogs, love. I figured there has to be something more loyal than my dogs, and the only thing I could think of was real dogs. So I’ve been training them. Cujo is in the back right now as we speak.”

My breath hitched. Cujo…?

Somehow, arming the Joker with vicious, bloodthirsty dogs may have relieved some of my paranoia about Daniel getting his hands on me, but only increased it for the Joker. The Batman’s words, which he had only said moments ago, rushed back to mind: Don’t forget the danger the Joker is.

“I’m guessing Cujo isn’t a Pomeranian…”

“Full-bred Rotwieler,” the Joker clarified proudly. “He’s my favorite.”

I had never been much of a dog-person (well never really an animal person), so I wasn’t really as psyched as the Joker about this. Dogs didn’t scare me, but I didn’t like the ones that drooled, and Cujo really sounded like one of those…

“You can pick one when we get to the hideout,” the Joker continued, waiting uncharacteristically patient at a red light. “You can even name it.”

My stomach did a little flip-flop, and not in excitement. How in hell was I supposed to train a bloodthirsty dog to not eat me? I didn’t know the first thing about dogs. Dogs couldn’t be manipulated or reasoned with.

“Are they already trained? Am I going to have to teach it to sit and be a good guard dog?”

The Joker was amused by my reaction to the while thing. “Mostly,” he enlightened me with a sneer. “But one did slip up yesterday and take a chunk out of Otis’s leg.”

I pressed my temple against the cool glass of the window, experiencing the crushing headache that usually accompanied my conversations with the Joker. “Oh what a joy it is to be back,” I commented dryly.

The Joker just laughed.

So, as it turns out, I had been right about the dogs.

Well, about them being vicious, bloodthirsty monsters, that is. Knowing the Joker only too well, I was well aware that these wouldn’t be cute little Poodles. How on earth he expected me to train one of them was anyone’s guess.

Cujo and I already had a beautiful relationship. He had already snarled (flecking slobber all over, which means I had been accurate in my assumption that he was a drool dog) at me and even nipped at my ankles. And I had kicked him in the face. Not hard, mind you. While I am not fond of animals, I am not abusive. But the brute did whine a little and kept his distance from me from there on out. The Joker had praised me at knowing how to handle these sorts of things.

So now I was surveying the line of kennels, trying to keep my nerve. Dogs, at least the ones the Joker had gotten, were scary. Once I was in their line of sight, they would slam themselves against their cages trying to get at me, barking and snarling with a madness that made me uneasy. And according to the Joker, I was supposed to pick one.

Yeah, right.

It was as I was starting to wallow in despair and disbelief that I noticed there was one dog that sat in the back of its kennel silently while all the other dogs crowded against the gate. It was a German Shepard, the kind that the police used, and it laid its big head on its paws, watching me with curious golden eyes. At first I had thought it might be defective or something, a whelp in the bunch, probably the pack chew toy, but upon further examination, I noticed that, apart from one torn ear, it had next to no wounds or injuries.

Interested, I drew closer, heedless of the four dogs barking their warnings and throwing themselves against the cage. The German Shepard did nothing but watch me with that profound, intense gaze.

I jumped at the Joker’s voice behind me. “Find one?” he asked.

After a pause of uncertainty, I nodded. “The one in the back.”

Upon looking at the curious animal, the Joker wrinkled his nose. “It doesn’t look very dangerous,” he assessed a bit disappointedly.

Exactly, I thought to myself. Instead, I pointed out, “The others seem to have left it alone, so it must have some fight in it.”

After a moment or two of deliberation, the Joker shrugged. “Whatever you say, Barbie.” And then he whistled (making all the dogs go nuts), and Otis (with a slight limp, I noticed) came to call.

“Get the one in the back,” the Joker ordered.

Otis looked like he would rather be hanging from a three-story building than go in the cage, but he didn’t refuse. Briefly, I wondered what the Joker had done to these men once he had found out one of them was a traitor.

Otis, very wisely in my opinion, slipped on a pair of tough gloves, but not before shooting off a handgun, making the dogs scatter. As quickly as possible without making any sudden movements, Otis slipped into the cage, where the dogs growled and snarled. One Doberman threw himself at Otis, but it was shot in the leg before he could sink in any teeth. The dogs didn’t advance after that, but continued to growl, like a choir. Otis made his way into the back, where the German Shepard still lay in that same position. Cautiously, it sat up.

The dog allowed Otis to grab it by the collar and lead it out of the cage, all the while its golden eyes rested warily on the gun in Otis’ gloved fingers. It was smart, I realized, not afraid. It showed no signs of fear, tucked tails or raised flanks. Its ears were pricked and alert, not flat. The torn ear flapped a little with each stride.

Once clear of the cage, Otis linked a lengthy piece of chain to the dog’s collar. As soon as the kennel door had closed, the other dogs gathered around the gate again and resumed their barking and snarling.

The Shepard seemed to realize that it wasn’t in any danger of being shot and turned its attention away from Otis and to the Joker and me. It studied us with cool calculation that intrigued and frightened me.

Otis led the dog to us and handed me the makeshift leash. He seemed relieved to have escaped unscathed. “Anything else, Boss?”

The Joker laughed. “Go feed ‘em for me, will ya?” Otis turned an odd gray color but nonetheless, turned away to do the task.

I was holding the leash like it was an alien object. The dog attached looked at me with suspicion, as if trying to decide what kind of person I was. The first move, it seemed to say, is up to you.

“Um…” I tried uneasily. “Is it a girl or boy?”

The Joker was already walking away. “Girl, I think,” he answered nonchalantly. “Have fun with her.” And then he left the garage, humming a tune.

Unsure, but knowing I had to appear sure, I attempted to pull the dog along. It, or she I suppose, wouldn’t budge. She was testing me, I understood. I had to show authority, but I wouldn’t kick it like I had Cujo. I wanted its respect, not fear. I needed this dog to be loyal, not afraid.

“Come,” I commanded.

She didn’t move. I gave the chain another tug.

“Come,” I repeated, this time louder and more firmly.

Very hesitantly, she rose to all four paws and slowly trotted over to me, looking up at me with that unnerving gaze.

I felt a rush of surprise, stunned it had worked so easily. Then I remembered to extol it for obeying. I didn’t pat or coddle her. This was supposed to be a guard dog, not a housedog. I needed her to keep her razor-sharp edge and vigilance. “Good,” was all the praise I allowed, in a more gentle tone.

She tilted her head to the side, as if assessing this response, that silly ear flopping over. Behind her, there was a wave of barking and snarling as Otis attempted to feed the dogs.

Aware of what I was doing was probably very stupid, but nonetheless in the mood to experiment, I bent to my knees, at an uncomfortably close proximity with the dog. A low growl ushered from the dog’s throat, and I gave it a sharp, warning “Don’t.” and it stopped. Again, I reached my hand out and undid the chain, letting it fall to the ground with a loud, metal clank.

Then I stood and commanded again, “Come,” and then started to leave without looking behind me. With a bit of a shock, I heard the soft click of padded paws and the dog trailed next to me. Again, I praised it, and we left the garage and into the house. The Joker had shown me the new grounds, which were just as huge and confusing as the last, and where my new room was in the maze. Apparently, he had informed me happily, it was right next to his. I hadn’t been sure if this was supposed to help me sleep better at night.

In the halls, as I struggled to remember which direction, one of the Joker’s familiar dogs, Spike, greeted me, “You’re back? Manipulative bitch.” As this was routine, something of a pet name for me among the Joker’s dogs, I barely noticed. That is, until the dog at my side ushered a low warning growl and bared her teeth at Spike. Spike, who hadn’t seen the dog, took a sudden step backwards. The dog advanced, growls growling steadily louder, and took a protective stance between Spike and me.

“Get that damn dog away from me,” Spike threatened.

Amazed, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. After a few seconds, I remembered myself and commanded, “Come,” at the dog and walked slowly past Spike, not so astonished that I didn’t feel a little smug at the look of surprise in his dirty features as the dog continued to growl and watch him as we passed.

Once we were out of earshot, I praised, “Good, girl.” And then for extra measure, I gave her a soft pat on the head.

Maybe I could be a dog person after all.

Like I said, borrringg, but oh well! I have my computer back! I can update like crazy now and I will be rewarding you lovely readers for your patience, don't you worry! Again, one-shot competition is going on, and it is a humor competition, so you guys all have it in you to enter! Check out my journal! Oh, and now that I have my computer/life back, I can put up something funny...



*glances at IceCrystal7* Must I really...?
*sigh*
Joker's purple speedo and his card tricks!
*giggle*


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