Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

The Cake Games	By : kokoronoitami Category: DC Verse Movies > The Dark Knight Views: 6411 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
He’d finally gotten him back down to the street level and was just about to administer the blind-fold when the dark-eyed man shook his head, gaze fixed and finger reaching up dazedly to point at a closed dark gate in the distance.

“Hey… is that…” he began walking toward it curiously, Batman stepping in front of him quickly.

“No. We’re leaving,” he said sternly.

The Joker mumbled something that sounded suspiciously insolent before looking back up at the man in charge. He then looked back over his shoulder and at the familiar gate. He had to force himself to redirect his attention back to the crime-fighter as he approached him. If he remembered correctly, then that was…

He then leaned near him in confidence, voice lowering to that of a whisper.

“You wanna…. Do you wanna see something… neat?”

Batman frowned as he took a step back. Nothing the man could show him could possibly be more pressing than answering the bat signal.

“Not now,” he advised.

The Joker made an expression of annoyance, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going to take a look at that building beyond that gate,” he pointed. “I want you to see it too,” he added. Seeing his foe’s inexorable strict expression, he shrugged his shoulders. “How about tomorrow night, then?” he added as he turned his back to the darkly clad figure, allowing him to place the blindfold around his eyes.

Unwilling to grant him any promises, Batman cleared his throat.

“We’ll see about it,” he agreed as he led him back to his vehicle.

Lucky for him, The Joker had been pretty agreeable. Getting him back to the cell proved to be of little trouble and he silently wondered if it was the result of progress or just blind luck. His curiosity toward what had grabbed the other man’s attention so suddenly faded as he went back out into the night to personally answer the call.

_____________

As he sailed through the sky, it occurred to him that the scattered lights glowing from the windows of the dark buildings below rather resembled the stars above. He tilted his wing to change the direction of his glide. He then swooped around one of the tall businesses, making a beeline for the roof.

As soon as he neared the building, he realized that the man standing beside the signal was not Gordon. For one, he was at least two inches taller, younger and sporting a police uniform, which wasn’t customary for Gordon to greet him in. About a half dozen thoughts flew through his mind at once.

Was Gordon alright? Was this man sent in his place?

Immediately he sought to exercise caution. After all, this was unexpected.

The light-haired man looked up just as he landed upon the roof, simultaneously shutting off the blinding signal. The light disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. One minute, the signal had been a floating like an intangible stamp on the night sky and the next, it was gone without a trace.

Batman merely stood there, trademark stoic expression on his face as he waited for the man to speak.

“As I expected,” the man sounded a little amazed himself at his presence. However, his amazement quickly faded as the crime-fighter before him spoke.

“Who are you…”

The younger man watched the dark figure with a tense expression.

“One of the best cops out here. Why’s that? Because I don’t handle criminals with kid-gloves.”

“Name.”

The other man grunted.

“Its Jacobs. And it’d be in your best interest to remember it.”

Batman was silent as he waited for the man to state his case, which after several seconds he spoke: “The Joker disappeared from Arkham about two months ago and since then the only thing to make the news since that fire has been a few random murders committed in one night.” The man paused, crossing his arms. Batman stood his ground, voice low and serious.

“What’s your point,” he deadpanned.

“As I’m sure you know,” the man paced, “in the past, The Joker has wrecked havoc on average, once a week when loose on a spree. To have a random murder in a warehouse within the time span of one month is highly unlikely… Unless,” he raised a brow, “someone’s trying to keep him under control.”

Batman made no move to confirm nor deny the man’s words, frustrating him as he let him continue.

“The game’s over, man. I’m not stupid. Whatever you’re doing with The Joker is useless. He’s a lying, murdering thief by nature. Do you really think you can get him to talk without brute force? Are you so blinded by your sense of justice that you think that you and you alone can make a difference?”

“Don’t question that which you know nothing of,” the deep voice advised.

“I question what works. The man’s insane. Who are you to endanger the public by keeping him on a broken leash?”

Seeing no point in continuing the conversation, Batman turned to leave, the young man’s words clear. Gordon had wanted him to be worried about this arrogant idiot?

“You’ll see,” Jacobs chuckled. “Deep down, the man’s an animal. When I get a hold of him, I’ll make sure to treat him like the animal he is and you know what’s gonna happen when I do?”

Bruce paused for a moment, his back to the man as he spread his cloth-like wings.

Taking his silence as his cue, Jacobs added, “He’ll talk…”

Without a word, Batman leapt from the roof, gliding out over the roofs and becoming one with the night as the darkness consumed him.

____________________

It was late by standards but he just hadn’t been able to talk himself into going to sleep. Not after reading the contents of the paper he still pinched between his thumb and index finger.

The idea was simple.

Sometimes a person had to watch the ones they cared for without their knowledge. It was an action that he personally frowned upon, but in this case the old man felt that it was necessary. How else could he possibly know what his employer was really up to if he didn’t let him believe that he was acting in secret? Surely Master Wayne would not seek his advice on matters of the heart, but he had to know for sure what the young man was up to. How else could he protect him? How else could he fulfill his promise to the former ruler of the household, Thomas Wayne? How else could keep his word that with every ounce of his will he’d try to protect and guide the kind man’s son, to look after the only child he’d left behind as a result of his untimely death. He made a promise to Thomas to protect the son that was more precious to him than all of his money and possessions could ever be…

Alfred found himself overwhelmed by the contents of the report he held in his hands, tilting it under the desk lamp a little more. The strange white substance he’d found on the inside pocket of The Joker’s jacket a few weeks ago, as he suspected was no mere dust. As stated by the report, it was a drug, an illegal black-market pleasure-enhancing drug with some rather alarming side-effects if given in excess. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen any of the signs in his young master. Which meant that perhaps he hadn’t been exposed to it.

He hoped.

Alfred put his head in his hands for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. He’d quietly stood by and watched his strong, young employer quietly escort his prisoner from the grounds the other night, his apparent effort to keep the event quiet rather troubling. If what he suspected was going on behind closed doors was really happening, then he needed to act with this information. He sighed as he wondered how best to approach the younger man… His eyes then glanced up at the clock on his desk. Master Wayne had stated that he wanted tonight’s selection prepared soon.

After a few seconds, he stood and headed for the door. Perhaps he would tell him when he was done.

_________________

About half an hour after returning, Bruce had immediately began researching the building that The Joker had recognized.

The city’s old records indicated that the building was once known as St. Michaels nearly two decades ago. Once upon a time, it was a bustling, thriving school, but because of failed state procedures, lack of funding and a myriad of other problems, it was forced to close its doors.

Bruce immediately felt a twinge of excitement. Could a piece of The Joker’s past have been lived here? Was this building really a piece of the puzzle that was the man’s former life? If so, what did it mean that the criminal was choosing him to explore it with?

Perhaps he really was making progress… He looked down at his watch. He ought to reward the man for his conduct out in the city today. Aside from following his directions and taking orders, The Joker had behaved well tonight. He closed down his laptop before getting up and heading to the door. Alfred would have his dessert ready by now.

The old man had just finished preparing the tray for him, a faint worry about him. He lingered a second, starting small talk with his employer that had amounted to little before the young man smiled, thanked him and then grabbed the tray, heading down to the basement.

As he expected, the man was still awake as he took a seat beside him on the couch and handed him a plate.

The Joker’s brows drew down with suspicion at the immaculate slice. A strange feeling washed over him as he prodded the thick cake with his fork warily before sinking it into the oddly smooth dessert. He then deposited a sliver into his mouth, his jaw working cautiously.

Bruce watched as the other man’s face slowly fell, crease forming between his brows as his lower lip twisted in distaste. The left corner of his mouth drew up a little toward his nose in the clear expression of a sneer.

He made an odd noise of discomfort in the back of his throat as his expression grew more severe before he finally snapped and grabbed a napkin, spitting the contents of his mouth into the tissue-like paper.

Bruce raised a brow at his obvious discomfort.

“Is there a problem?” he half-smiled as he could already guess.

If there was one dessert The Joker had never had a penchant for it was cheesecake.

The idea in an of itself was just as disgusting as trying to make a liverwurst cream pie or string bean muffins. What genius thought it would be a good idea to try to make a dessert out of something like cheese? Cheese smelled bad enough by itself, but to have the nerve to add sugar to it?

That was something he would never understand…

“Here. If you wont eat it, I will,” Bruce offered.

“Of course.” For the first time, The Joker shoved the plate back into his hands. “Cheesecake? What the hell is wrong with you.” His mouth twitched in response to the thought of the substance even making it past his scarred lips. “It’s disgusting.”

The Joker watched his company as the masked man lifted the spoon to his own lips in content and began to eat it. The pale man gave him a look of distaste.

“Ugh… how could you even...” he watched as Bruce’s mouth closed over the spoon and he shivered. “Yuck….”

Bruce shook his head with a slight smile, suppressing a chuckle at the man’s bitter expression. It was only a matter of time before he struck out with his cake selections.

Oh well… There was a first time for everything…

He finished the slice of cake in good time as The Joker leaned back into the soft upholstery, look of offense finally fading.

“So, what was keeping you?” he finally inquired.

Bruce cleared his throat.

“I was searching records. Turns out that building used to be a school.”

The Joker smirked.

“I know that. St. Michaels.”

“What’s your... connection to it? Its been abandoned for a long time," he briefly wondered if there was another drug ring involved. Perhaps the building was one of his old dealing locations.

The pale man tucked a few strands of hair away from his face.

“You’ll know when we look at it tomorrow night. Anyway…” he rested his head back onto the cushion, sighing in comfort. “I know that we’ve ugh,” he cleared his throat, “Had this…” he tilted his head toward either shoulder once slowly as he searched for the right words. “conversation before but….”

Bruce waited for him to elaborate.

“Sure you’re helping your old pal Gordon out. But, what are you getting out of all this, hm?” he leaned forward, gaze focused. “What does Batman get out of helping these people?”

The masked man paused at the suddenness of the question before he immediately explained.

“It’s about helping people who need it. A service to the public.”

The other man suppressed a loud laugh, right hand waving away his explanation impatiently as he sat up.

“Oh no no no no… Now you stop giving me those Sunday school answers and think about it…” he suggested. “What do you feel… deep down after you rescue someone from a burning building or eh…. catch a crook?”

Hmm, it was now Bruce’s turn to think. To really think. It was time to stop giving those replies that he realized were more of a habit and less of the truth. Everyone knew that it was a good deed to help those in need but lately he was beginning to think that his actions toward the public were more mechanical and less empathy-driven…

He was doing it not because he wanted to, not because it made him feel good, but because …. because….

He dug deep into his thoughts, alarmed that he couldn’t readily produce an honest reason and he began to wonder...

Was it simply something to do? Did he really care about these people anymore?

“If I don’t, who will…” he safely concluded.

The paler man shook his head.

Yeah right… His gaze fell to the man’s mouth. He wanted to brush his lips against the bright-eyed man’s in a simple kiss, but the fact that he could still faintly smell the cheesecake from where he sat convinced him to refrain.

“Well, I’m going to get going,” Bruce stood. To his knowledge, he had business to attend to tomorrow. There were people to see and public appearances to maintain. With a casual nod, The Joker bid the man a good night, turning to the screen above to find out if anything even remotely entertaining could be found on late-night television.

__________________

Once reaching the main level, Bruce was surprised to find his butler still awake and tidying up. Upon his entry, the old man paused.

Alfred had wanted to bring up the suspicious powder connected with The Joker. He had even waited up by going through the same tasks twice and would have initiated the conversation had not his employer seemed to be in such good spirits. His face fell. So often, the young man seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders that he couldn’t stand the thought of interrupting a smile that content. He greeted him formally.

Perhaps he would be better receptive come morning.

Bruce pretty much breezed past the butler to retire to his room, feeling like a kid the night before an exciting trip. He’d hoped that the following night would be interesting. The Joker was just as anxious to show him the building beyond the gate as he was to see it. This could be a real break in The Joker’s case. If this school was really connected to his past, then it would be the first real legitimate piece of history known to be associated with the man.

He found himself restless by the time he finally lay down to sleep.

He was anxious to know.

____________________

Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough for Bruce. Once, perhaps twice over the course of the day, he’d been distracted enough by his surroundings to forget about his plans that night. Of course his prisoner was quick to remind him when he greeted him early that night. The Joker was ready as soon as the crime-fighter returned from his nightly duties. Alfred had mentioned his need to speak with him about a private matter but he’d put it off, anxious to explore the old building and possibly get an inkling into the man’s past.

With reluctance, the old man had advised him to be careful and merely watched him leave, praying that he returned safely...

Following the city’s plan’s, Bruce had taken the bat vehicle and followed a less conspicuous route through the woods. About twenty minutes later, they were at the back entrance to the old building he’d sited the night before.

Bruce pulled The Joker from the car and then undid his bindings before returning his sight.

The pale man’s gaze immediately focused on the old two story brick building in front of him as his keeper went to retrieve something from the back compartment of the strange vehicle. The Joker looked down at the asphalt leading to the back entrance, noting that it was cracked and separated in some places, making him aware of his footing. Within seconds he was at the old and chained grey door, looking over at the small windows and contemplating breaking one of them.

He had just spotted a helpful looking rock when the crime-fighter walked past him and to the door, clamping a strange D-shaped cutting device on one of the chains. He pressed a button and the two ends began to squeeze together. Seconds later, the chain was lying in a coiled heap on the ground.

Well that was effective.

Pleased, The Joker grabbed the door’s rusty handle, and jerked it once, simultaneously switching on his flash light. Just as he remembered, he was greeted with a wide hallway, one stairway to the right.

It hadn’t changed at all…

It was up there… he recalled, heading up the stairway.

Bruce hurried to follow him as he quietly made his way to the second floor. The design was similar to the first, a long hall with rooms on either side. The Joker suddenly broke into a jolly little skip, going almost the entire length of the hall before stopping at a door on the right. He waved over his company who was shining the light curiously into the other rooms.

The Joker reached out with one gloved hand and turned the knob. The old door swung open with little resistance and they stepped inside. It smelled like old paper. Everything from the old tile floor to the near dozen wood and metal desks scattered throughout the room were coated with a thick layer of dust. An old and faded world map still hung over the chalk-board at the head of the room. A few old papers were lying scattered on the floor, faint breeze from outside shifting the shade drawn down over one of the four small windows. He had moved toward it with the intention of closing it when he heard the sound of the man shuffling beneath the teacher’s desk for something. The Joker lay his flashlight on the floor, beam of light shooting across the tiles.

“Ahh,” with a sigh of satisfaction, he pulled out a rather ancient looking record player and deposited it upon the desk, a cloud of dust puffing out from under it with the action.

Without hesitation, he found the plug and jammed it into the old outlet, hoping the building still had electricity. He then kneeled behind the desk and forced open one of the drawers, pulling out an album that he could barely make out in the dim light reflected from the tiles. Carefully, he opened the vinyl case and slid the large black disc out, pressing it into the center of the player until it clinked in place. He flipped the on-switch and the old record began to spin. Carefully, he lifted the needle and placed it gently onto the track, pleased by the smooth waltz that filled the air.

The sound from the record was a little muffled and it almost made him feel as though he were thrust back in time. The Joker smiled as he could almost see the figures of the students practicing, could almost see the young teenage girls in their knee-length dresses and the boys in their neat little suits practicing the dance.

“Let me guess,” Bruce offered as he stepped away from the window. “This was your old classroom?”

“I had to rehearse to this album for the school dance here,” The Joker admit. Bruce’s eyes widening for a brief second before he regained his composure.

He nodded at his words, trying to quell his excitement, expression serious. For once, was the man actually telling the truth?

The old music poured from the ancient record player, sounding oddly serene in the dusty old room. He listened to it for a few seconds before The Joker spoke.

“Yeah. I went to this crap school. Hated every minute of it…” a look of anger passed over his features and was soon replaced by a thoughtful expression. “I think the only good thing about this place is that this is where I met my wife.”

Bruce raised a brow.

“You were married….” he sounded doubtful.

The pale man turned to him.

“That’s not important,” he looked up at him questioningly. “We practiced our first dance here… Hell, it was only time we were allowed to have fun back then.”

Bruce thought back to his days in college and the nights spent going over facts and writing reports. He didn’t miss them…

“You see,” The Joker paused to stand right before the masked-man. “I took her hand like this,” The Joker carefully slipped the fingers of his right hand between his enemy’s left. Bruce immediately took a step back, shaking his head.

“What are you doing?”

The Joker took a step forward. “Showing you. Now, relax. She put her hand on my shoulder….right here….” he recalled as he positioned the other man’s hand “..and I put mine on her waist.”

Bruce swallowed, trying his damnedest not to let on how uncomfortable he really felt. It was almost insane to think that he was in this position with him. Wasn’t it not too long ago that he’d been chasing him around Gotham with the intention of beating him senseless?

“And?” he questioned.

The Joker chuckled. “And I took the first step like this…” he motioned for him to follow, “and it was the first time I’d felt something,” he searched for the right word, “…emotional… being that close to a person…”

Bruce suddenly became aware of the fact that he’d unconsciously began trying to follow the man’s fluid movements as he imitated his steps. After all of his social training, he somehow still felt stupid. Being born into privilege, he’d had the unfortunate experience of being subjected to training of the many courtesies required from those of his status. He could still recall those God-awful ballroom dance lessons that Alfred had insisted he take back in high school.

Now, just as then, he felt awkward and off-balance. He’d never been big on dancing with girls at parties, but it was obvious from the criminal’s movements that The Joker drew on plenty of experience in the art of seduction. After nearly a minute of trying to follow his movements, Bruce gave up, releasing the man.

“I don’t dance,” he explained quietly as he stood back. The Joker simply continued on without him, hands poised as though he still held his partner.

He sat back to watch him as he gathered his nerves. This was getting him absolutely nowhere.

He didn’t like how engaging in such harmless activities with the man made him feel. He knew above all that it was more than clinical concern paired with his nightly duties that forced his interest in the criminal. As he watched the man finish the song without him, his mind wandered. He was like a doctor studying his own case.

He should be punching the man right about now. Just moments earlier, their hands should have been locked in rage and mortal hatred, not a tentative and comfortable discovery of the other’s rhythm. It was so strange it was almost frightening. In his rapidly twisting view of the man, he could at least count on one universal constant when nothing began to make sense to him.

That life by nature could be terribly unpredictable.

Just then, The Joker stepped toward him, extending his hand and he simply stared at it, the other man nodding in encouragement. Bruce shook his head quickly. Stepping around the man in a poor imitation of a dance that society decreed should only be shared with someone of the opposite sex was pointless.

The Joker rolled his eyes before simply grabbing his hand as before. Bruce’s right hand came up to his shoulder to push him, the sly man quickly putting his arm around his waist to bring him close the instant he lifted his arm.

In record time he was holding the man in the same position as before. Unwilling to start a fight over something so stupid, he allowed him the contact. He’d be finished before he knew it and they’d be heading back to the cell. Of course he would remind himself never to lend the man a record player, noting it brought out his inner Julliard.

His mind went blank when The Joker spoke into his ear, voice soft.

“You need to stop being so serious and have some fun…” he moved slowly. Bruce swallowed.

“You need to stop playing games and just….” he trailed off as the other man’s lips nipped at his neck.

The Joker laughed softly as he drew back a little just to see his expression.

“Would you be more comfortable if I was a woman? Or are you just still too scared to go all the way?”

Bruce quickly refuted his conclusion.

“Fear has nothing to do with it.”

“Then take the final step.”

The older man wet his lips.

“I can’t.. Not on a selfish whim…and not for information.”

The Joker chuckled.

“Don’t do it because I said I’d give you the last piece. Do it because you…ugh…. can’t stand the idea of not doing it… Do it because,” he took another step forward, Bruce stepping back, “…because you need it.”

The older man shook his head.

“I don’t.”

“But you want it…” he took another step forward, Bruce stepping back to allow a little distance. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore…

“It’s human nature to seek intimacy.”

The Joker sighed as he took another step forward. “Ohh, but nothing’s simple with you, is it, Bats. You’re dying to know me inside and out. It’s a simple request really. I’ll let you inside if you’ll let me out.”

Bruce’s brows drew down at the odd phrase. He didn’t have time to ponder it long as the wavy-haired man came closer and he realized that he was out of space as his back nudged the wall, the music in the background fading.

“It’s not like I’m trying to kill you…” The Joker whispered.

Bruce couldn’t think to explain his actions at that very moment. If anyone had happened across him with his hand clasped with the other man’s, his other hand on his shoulder and The Joker’s hand on his waist, he would have been at a loss for words. There would have been nothing that he could have said to explain what had been going on in his mind at that point in time. All he knew was that the man’s actions were weighing heavily on his decisions. Of course, society’s standards would condemn such behavior by a powerful, masculine symbol such as himself, but, even if it wasn’t the norm, he wasn’t exactly hurting anyone. Where was the harm in sharing a few quiet moments like these with the criminal. Perhaps the only quiet moments he’d ever have before The Joker was once again back at Arkham. Locked away from society… Out of his site. Out of his reach… Out of his control…

His mouth was barely upon his when the flicker of a light through the windows abruptly grabbed his attention. He pushed the man away from him quickly. He recognized the whimsical nature of the light’s path as a hand-held light. Probably some curious teenagers checking out the building in search of a little adventure.

“Get down…” he whispered quickly, ripping the plug of the record player from the wall as he stooped low. The Joker sank to the floor slowly with a look of excitement as the masked man crept toward the one window with the shade extended and peeked cautiously out of the dusty glass.

Holy shit….

Batman’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the man below shining a flashlight through the windows of the lower level.

Was that… Jacobs…? Was that prick following him now?

Damn it… Somehow he’d become aware of the bat vehicle out at night and likely tried to follow him.

Unwilling to waste time thinking about it, he quickly turned out their flashlights and gathered them, whispering to his prisoner to follow him to the exit.

They were careful on the stairwell, The Joker leading the way to the back entrance as they crept back to the car partially concealed in the woods where the pavement ended.

He loved a little excitement every now and then….

____________________

To his relief, they got away without incident, Bruce taking a back road leading from the building into the woods. He’d barely even had time to tie the man’s blindfold before taking off in bat vehicle. No matter what the other man may have been thinking, that had been a little too close for comfort for him, especially without the bat suit. How in the world would he have been able to explain that one if he’d been discovered. It wouldn’t have been Batman out and about with the infamous Joker. It would have been a masked Bruce Wayne…

He shook the thought from his mind nervously, feigning control.

A little while later and they were back in his basement level. By the time he’d reached the cell door the excitement had faded to a degree. He’d opened the door and directed the man toward it, unwilling to join him inside. While standing in the door way, he removed the man’s blindfold and untied his hands, allowing him to turn and face him.

“That was kinda fun…” The Joker concluded. Bruce refused to comment on the night’s events.

“We’ll have to be more careful next time,” he advised. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night…” he reached up for the handle to push the door closed when he was met with resistance.

“Wait,” The Joker hurried. The masked man released the door a moment, curious to hear what he wanted.

“Yeah?”

“You’re really going to just leave me high and dry, tonight?” he brought his hands up in exasperation.

Not seeing his meaning, the crime-fighter frowned.

“What?”

The dark-eyed man took a step toward him, tilting his gaze.

“You could at least give me a kiss…” he stated.

Bruce smirked.

“I could, but I don’t have to,” he reminded him.

“No. But that’s what makes the thought of you doing it so exciting. Because when you- mph!” Bruce interrupted him by closing the distance between them, the other man closing his eyes in comfort. He reveled in the feel of the soft flesh of their lips molding against the other’s and he parted his lips to deepen it.

His surroundings faded as the only thing his senses allowed him to acknowledge was the sensation the touching of their lips created. He reached up, palm curving around the other man’s head as he held him there and simply kissed him. The vibration of the other man moaning into his mouth fueled his lust as his tongue forced entry.

After a few minutes he forced himself to step back, face warm. The Joker was partially holding on to the door for support with a wry smile.

“Heh….That was one hell of a goodnight, kiss…” he concluded. When he took the initiative, that man sure could make an impression. Hell, judging from the skill of his kiss, he probably gave better fellatio than he did…

He smiled.

He just didn’t know it yet…

Bruce cleared his throat. “Good night..” he then closed the door, making sure it was locked before he headed to the elevator. It had been a decent night, but he was still no closer to attaining the last piece of the device. He might have learned something that no one else in the world knew about the man. Still, he sighed, trying to will his slight erection away. He and his right hand were due for a loving affair….

__________________

In the shadow of the cave-like lower level, the older man slowly took his hand away from his mouth. He’d suspected that his young Master Wayne had fallen into some sort of illicit activities with the criminal, but was reluctant to believe it himself.

He hadn’t been able to hear their quieted voices from where he stood, but he could definitely see what was going on.

So it was true. Bruce had taken his interest in The Joker to the next level.

The kiss that he had watched him give the criminal was no joke. It was serious, more serious than he would have liked to have realized. That was a kiss reserved for intimate lovers, for partners and intense affairs. Not criminals… not prisoners…and definitely not The Joker…

He thought back to the report on the desk in his room.

He hated being put in this situation but he had no choice. He had to warn the man before this thing….this infatuation with the unstable criminal got any worse.

He only prayed that it wasn’t too late to stop him…
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Cake Games