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The Circle	By : Triyune Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2614 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not make money of writing this fiction and I don't own Batman nor the characters from that universe.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Summary:
Despite the painful events of this last meeting, the Joker now decides to join the next meeting as well, curious about the identity of that man. His question will be answered and he is not ready to accept that answer, fleeing from the castle and from that man in blind panic.
However, he cannot ignore his feelings and they drive him to distraction.

Part 3: The revelation
I woke up in mountains of soft cosiness again. The pillow seemed to swallow my head fully but that was the way I liked it. The blanket was pulled to my chin; the bed linen was purely made of cotton, tender silkiness. I was at home. And in the middle of this angelic comfort, my body was raging. However, I didn’t feel much of it; everything took place in a kind of haze, shrouding me in lightheadedness, denial and grey smoke. I was too weak to lift an arm and pull the blanket over my head.
Dull stings of pain went through my body, up to my brain; or to be precise, electric impulses from sore skin went to my brain to be turned into what I knew as pain. How fast it was moving, losing no time, being there almost simultaneously, fired off and there already, that must have been the wormhole I had always been searching for…strange images passed in front of my eyes, my feelings changed and I consciously experienced myself falling asleep again.
The next time I woke up I could see things more clearly, also because the sun had come back as well. Shyly, and still weak, but at least, that asshole had come back to the sky. Nice of you to drop by. Just that I got no milk for you, I’ve run out of it again.
Almost drifting back into sleep, I got a grip on myself and sat up. All at once, one fast movement. And I regretted that.
Was it that I couldn’t take the pain anymore? It had just been some whiplashes and a branding; the Bat had broken my ribs twice sometimes and I still was able to laugh at him and now I could barely move.
They had drugged me and I was unable to cope with the effects, mentally and physically speaking. I could have told them, had they asked me, but of course, it was too late. The chemicals were in my system and working their way through. Maybe I could catch some of the sun’s rays and add them to the coffee if I was short of milk again. I sighed and crossed my arms in front of my burning chest. That way, I’d never get past the milk. Why had it to be milk at all. Didn’t I prefer my coffee without milk? I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it would help if I collected the rays from the floor and tried to get them into the cup.
I heard a cracking sound coming from behind me, right behind my head, barely a centimeter away. Blinking, I realized how glad I could be that it wasn’t inside my head and just behind me. Someone had spilled the milk on the floor. An idiot. When I was so short of it again. Maybe it would help-
I got up and stumbled to the window to open it, feeling sick. While I was desperately trying to open it I could feel my stomach rebelling already. I breathed in the fresh air and bent over to throw up. After I was done trying to get rid of something which had never been inside me I turned around and sank to the floor.
Blast it, it had been worth it. With tears in my eyes from the gagging, I examined my inner thigh. Bandages were wound around it. I wouldn’t explore that now. There were more important things to take care of, like the milk.
With shit in my head, I got up just to fall down on the sofa again. What a ride. I’d need some hours to get it all together again but I had plenty of time.
I just hoped that the sun wouldn’t disappear before I could get my milk.

___________________

Eventually, I got back to straightness again. It took some time. And by then, the bandages had dissolved already and were scattered across the bed and floor. I had no memories as for that incident when I must have removed them but all I could do was just accept it.
The first time I took a look at the mark it unsettled me to an uncomfortable extent. I wasn’t used to such things and I wasn’t familiar with such practices. As I said, I had always been an open-minded person, but that went beyond some cheap plastic ties and blindfolding in bed.
I had not consented to this.
Had someone asked me before doing that I would have laughed at him in disbelief, not believing that he actually was serious. How could they force that on me? Was that legal at all?
Just then I remembered my street actions which weren’t of any considerate nature either. I pressed my lips together and carefully touched the mark. It was still sore and I drew back, triggering another round of pain.
On the other hand, where would have been the thrill if I had been asked. Though, I wanted to know whom I was married to now. Somehow, I doubted that I would ever find out, but for now, I had other things to worry about. The mark was barely healing, still weeping.
Wounds usually healed on their own; I didn’t have to take care of them at all and maybe they were healing so exceptionally well because I didn’t give a shit about them. Countless scars were spread across my body and I had never cared about them since I regarded that body just as a means to exist in this world and walk around there.
I knew that I had to change this opinion since from now on, this body would be the link between us, a kind of device, playground and platform for our feelings.
Was I getting sentimental? It was embarrassing. Yet, I had come so far.
Although the mark wasn’t healing well I could recognize the shape of it already. It was a W.
W for wussy. W for winner. W for wacko. W for who. W for waif. W for wait a minute.
W for Wayne.
No, it couldn’t be that easy. Considering the luck I had been having till this days I barely dared to think of that name.
I turned on the TV for some news to empty my head and sat down. Too much going on inside of which I didn’t want to know a darn thing.
As I leaned back I felt a stinging pain on my chest. When I looked down it struck me like lightning. He had pierced my nipple.
Whenever I had seen anyone with metal going through body parts which shouldn’t contain any metal I had felt disgusted and now I was one of those freaks. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. No, I didn’t want to remove it. Not now. Not at all.
Imagining him playing around with it, pulling on it and teasing me felt too good.
A loud fanfare made me look at the TV. And what a surprise, for the sixtieth time, I saw Bruce Wayne introducing a new program at the Gotham hospital. Too lazy than to get up and change the program and too tired of lions eating up gazelles, I stayed on the sofa and watched him holding a glorious speech. That man was a stranger to me, I didn’t know him at all, always on the news, like an arrogant snob, spending money on expensive things and then again, contributing to various funds and donating crazy sums to children with cardiac insufficiency and whatnot.
What a bugger. My eyes wandered to the right upper corner of my vision where they desperately tried to kill the feelings welling up inside. Realizing that this didn’t help at all, I took the remote control and changed the program.
I watched cops arresting stoned youngsters, both parties hitting each other and-
I turned off the TV.
Something grew rampant. The silence offered the space and time for it.
He looked good in his suit. In all objectivity, a handsome man. Angular face and though, delicate features. Black hair neatly combed back and a strand saucily draped over his forehead.
He turned to look at me and I looked away.

One month later, I got ready for the evening again, eagerly waiting for the taxi to pick me up and drive me to my number one pastime. Curiosity killed the cat.
With every visit, the drive seemed shorter and shorter and by the time we arrived I was hard already. Ready for the next great show, I entered the castle and lined up, waiting for the woman to pass me. I didn’t look around; I would wait for him to introduce himself to me.
When everyone had left there was only another masked man left in the hall. A black Volto.
Without looking at me, he left the hall as well and I followed, getting mad at his ignorance already. But that only served to harden facts even more.
This time, he lead me into a smaller hall with a little buffet at the center. Part of that was a long row of glasses filled with champagne. He took two and gave me one. I was impatient and wanted to start playing, the thing which I had been waiting for 30 days, but he was into teasing me this time. I looked straight into his eyes to decipher his feelings but he would cork them up and show me shrewd eyes.
I emptied the glass within a second only to be given another one. As a sign of protest, I emptied that in one gulp as well. A third one followed, then he seemed content.
He had not leashed me this time. Of course, I was wearing the collar but he didn’t seem to be interested in that tonight.
Looking around, I saw various couples lying on cushioned couches, sitting in luscious leather chairs or using the furniture in some other ways. While I was still discovering new ways of entering a body I fell the victim to a fit of dizziness. It had come out of the blue and left me on my knees, shaking and disoriented.
I didn’t know what was happening to me; all I knew was that I felt sick, dizzy and seriously horny. Breathing hard, I looked up at the Volto who was looking down at me. I swore I could see the wrinkles framing his eyes. Clearly his fault.
He turned and attempted to leave the hall without me but I reached for his cape and pulled him back. I couldn’t get up now. I bent my head, staring at the floor, tracing along the tiles, trying to distract myself from these nasty feelings.
A gloved hand closed around my throat and lifted me up. Well, if he didn’t want me to sit there in a puddle of goo right now then I had to comply. He turned around and headed for the door and I did my best to catch up with him.
We left the hall and stopped in front of a closed door with a black sign. He turned the sign over; the other side was red. Without any knocking or any word, he opened the door and stepped inside. And whatever it was, I had to follow.
Darkness embraced me and what I felt next were hands working on my shirt buttons. Dumbfounded, I froze and tried to look for some hint of light but there wasn’t any, not even the door crack shed any light on the floor. His hands didn’t stop until I was naked yet again and then I heard the sounds in front of me. Apparently, he was undressing as well.
While he was getting rid of his stuff I saw the chance coming to serve my hunger and jack off. I unbuttoned my pants and dropped them, greedily reaching for my dick. He wouldn’t notice if I did it in silence. Something slapped me in the face and I stopped, looking around, yet seeing nothing. How could he see anything and I couldn’t?
The next second, I was pressed against the wall, feeling his breath hitting my cheek. I licked my lips in delight, feeling his hard-on pressing against mine.
Mine definitely was larger and throbbing more desperately than his.
After having managed to wriggle myself out of his iron grip I reached down and took matters into my hands. Whoever he was, I was going to have fun with him. It didn’t matter whether he was the mayor, a bank clerk or an owl, hard flesh was hard flesh and his kisses were just giving me the thrills. Inner values had always been more important to me than any outside superficial stuff. I snorted, amused at that thought, and squeezed his dick.
His body jerked and I moaned against his neck when I felt my dick touching his. No doubt, he was as hard as I was. Though, still, mine was larger.
Quivering flesh, filled with joy, ready to burst. So close, and I wasn’t allowed to. His grip tightened around my wrist. I gave him a short laugh but again, he flexed his muscles and I moaned with pleasure and pain at the same time. Maybe it was even the same.
Determined to not bow down so easily this time, I reached into the darkness, feeling his ribcage under my fingers. I dug my nails into the skin and drew a gasp from him as well.
Yes, I was his slave, but that didn’t mean that I had to submit myself so easily any time he just asked for it. But that was just what he wanted, as I realized, when he rammed his fist into my stomach so that I went down on my knees, wheezing and coughing.
To be honest, I loved it when he went brutal on me.
Now, at this moment of losing myself, I could admit it. Whenever I had come up with plans I hoped I would catch his attention so that I would find him standing behind me, waiting for me to turn around and take out my knife to fight him. He would always try to defeat me without hurting me seriously, I could rely on that; yet, sometimes, he gave me a pretty hard time, leaving me in a state of lightheaded pleasure when the pain dragged me to my knees. I loved that. Yes, I loved that, shamelessly admitted.
Here, it was different. The pain was the same, no matter whether that masked man did that to me or whether the Bat did it, but the feelings which went along with that were different.
Or were they...
Still recovering from the last blow I cleared my throat and lifted my head, fully aware of the height at which his erection must have been levitating in the air. To wit, just in front of my mouth.
It was silent; he didn’t move and I didn’t move. I felt that he was waiting for me to do something, awaiting my actions which would show him about my current feelings.
Suddenly, it felt like I was topping instead of serving him. He was at my mercy now. And I really appreciated that. I took a deep breath, aiming at exhaling just against his dick and I waited for a reaction but he remained completely silent.
So silent that I started doubting whether he still was there at all. I knew that from the Bat, once he was there, you turned around and he was gone without you noticing any of that.
Tentatively, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. It touched something soft. Now I heard a sound, followed by a feeling like being short of air again. His fingers were closing around my throat again. Apparently, he didn’t like that too much, being at my mercy and though, he had been provoking me into that action.
Despite his grip, I tried to close my lips around the tip of his dick again and when I managed to do so he immediately let go of my neck. Playfully, I traced along his glans with my tongue, cautiously touching his inner thighs, fondling his muscles and teasing his balls with seemingly unintended touches.
Something hit the floor beside me. Continuing with my torture, I reached down and felt for that thing on the floor. When I had found it I stopped for a moment.
It was his mask.
I looked up, seeing nothing, still. But I wanted to see something.
So I got up and brought my hands to his face and he immediately tried to block me but I pushed his hands away and felt for his features. While I was busy trying to figure out who this was he boldly removed my mask as well. I froze.
After some moments of painful silence something touched my lips.
He leaned in and gave me the most sensual and longest kiss of my life, licking my lips, exploring my mouth with his tongue and gently pulling on my upper lip.
I could feel his breath on my mouth when he drew back, only that much to not have our lips touching anymore.
We spent minutes in silence, thinking, enjoying that precious experience and being close to each other.
Suddenly, he took my hand and pulled me behind him, then made me take two step towards the wall again. After some fumbling in the dark I could tell that he was facing the wall now and I was facing his back. He reached for my dick and pulled on it so that I had to comply. It touched his ass. I didn’t know anymore whether he was the slave or I and who was dominating whom.
“Are you kidding me,” I whispered into the dark, lowly enough so that the words wouldn’t reach him.
He pulled on my dick more forcefully again and I then knew that he wasn’t kidding. The thought of shoving that thing up his ass almost made me cum already. That was too good to be true.
I wetted my fingers with my spittle and tried to stretch his ass. No problem at all. Very carefully, I pushed forward, lucky enough to find his entry at the first attempt. My dick was so hard that it smoothly enter his ass, but I knew enough about that all to be patient and wait for him to accustom himself to this feeling.
I leaned forward and braced myself against the wall because my thighs were shaking already. It was then when he moved backwards, showing me that I could continue and so I did, pushing half of my dick in.
I heard him gasping at that. He would need a minute again.
Impatiently, I was hopping from one foot to the other, trying to keep myself from coming just at the mere feeling of being inside his ass. That was the moment when I wished I had a string to wind it round my dick the way he had done it the last time; yet, while I was living through that extraordinary bliss of last time again he moved and showed me that I could go on.
I buried my fingers in his massive neck musculature and fucked him hard. Every time I entered him again my balls slapped against his ass which made it even harder for me to hold back. The sound of it, the feeling and the imaginary image of that were such a tease.
I stuck my fingers inside his mouth and he let it happen, licking and sucking them.
When I was about to come I bit his neck so hard that he screamed.
I stopped for a moment, processing the information given to me. My reality got disrupted in the most horrid way. Abruptly, I was pulled back down on earth when he gentlemanly reminded me to continue by reaching behind him and pulling me closer again.
I swallowed down that insight and continued to fuck him into orgasm. Pretending to enjoy it as much as he did, I moaned and let my hands wander down his body while he came.
There...
His right flank was covered with scar tissue.
Immediately, I drew back and took some steps back into the dark. I remembered that incident very well when the bomb had exploded right next to him. That was the proof.
Why hadn’t I noticed that when he had undressed in front of my eyes a month ago? I couldn’t blame myself; I had basically been out of order that night.
I could hear him panting in front of me. While I tried to calm down I took some more steps back until I hit the wall, then I headed left till I felt safe. As well as he just could see in this darkness, there was no way he could see me now.
Silence and darkness weighed down on me. Sticky, warm and threatening, but I would not give in. I bit down on my lower lip and waited for him to search for me, turn on the light or say something, whatever it was but he had to do it.
I was done with him.
Suddenly, I felt a hand touching my chest and I freaked. With my heart racing, I stumbled past him towards the opposite wall. Fumbling for the door in the dark, I felt panic numbing me. It was a feeling like in my nightmares. They were coming for me, I had to run, but I knew that they were following me and when I turned around I could see them turning the corner, still chasing me. Nowhere to hide, they would always find me, I knew that. This irrational fear, it was the worst of all feelings.
Stricken with terror, my shaky hands slid over the walls to catch hold of a doorhandle. By now, I was hyperventilating and I knew that this would tell him exactly where I was and that served to worsen my panic even more.
Heavens, when I had finally found the handle I pushed it down and ran. The light was blinding me, but I just ran, arms stretched out to not collide with anything. Running, just fleeing, down the corridor, up some stairs, turning left, straight then left again...into the middle of nowhere.
I stopped when I had found a place where I was alone. It was a small bar, the walls painted in black, no people there. Coughing from exhaustion, I entered the room and let myself fall into a leather chair.
Desperately, I tried to not think of him coming through the door. It would have freaked the living daylights out of me if he had followed me and would enter this room now as well so I concentrated on thinking of something else.
Like, my mask. It was gone. Left in the darkroom. Darn it. People had seen me passing, hard and unmasked, waving my hands around like lunatic. What a show. Other people paid for something like this.
Still out of breath, I started sorting out my thoughts. Putting one and one together I concluded that this man, hidden by a black Volto mask and imperious manners, necessarily had to be the Bat.
I didn’t know whether I was lucky or the most pitiful man on this planet right now. It was pure humiliation of a different sort, getting owned by one’s nemesis. The golden stucco of the bar caught my eye. Wasn’t that what I had always been...no, there was no other word for it, as much as I tried to find one...longing for. My heart skipped a beat every time I noticed him around and it felt the same way when the Volto was around.
I had not let anyone get closer in my life but these two. Maybe Harleen had managed to take a glimpse of this as well but apart from her there was only these two, or that one man.
And no one would ever know. I wouldn’t need to justify myself. I was free to embrace him since all of us wore masks. I would simply box my identity for that time being and meet him as someone equal. Not as an enemy, not as a friend, not as a servant. But, something else. I just refused to use that word, still.
My thoughts were going round in circles. Things had just fallen into place for me. Yet, was that the only way we could come closer? It had to be; on the streets we were fighting tooth and nail against each other, showing off our pretentious, bloated egos and perpetuating the traditional circle of good and evil, not aware of how much we needed each other. For a long time, I had not noticed, fighting him with pleasure, though, but never looking behind that. During the last year, I had started to feel anxious about our meetings. I was a man of spontaneity, but something like stage fright had been seizing me for quite some time now when I got ready for the nightly crimes.
I had dismissed it as the fear of things going wrong and making a fool of myself like when I had been performing as a comedian plus a lack of mental hygiene, never considering the real reason behind it. Too humiliating, too far-fetched.
I heard steps coming closer and prayed that it wouldn’t be him.
A black Bauta entered. Wordlessly, he stopped in front of me and put a mask on my thighs.
A Joker, decorated with golden ornaments. Whatever I did, I couldn’t escape my role. I had tried so hard only to be forced back into it again. Sighing, I put it on and he disappeared.
Strange feelings lay in that mask. I felt at home there.
Like in a lucid dream, having fallen into a bizarre kind of trance, I got up and left.
Somehow, I made it to the front doors of the castle and stepped outside, still naked. Some moments later, a taxi stopped in front of me and I got in.
He drove me back to my flat, saying no word. I got out there and climbed the stairs to my room. After closing the door behind me I went to the sofa and sat down.
The world had changed. Life had returned. It was everywhere, in every drop of water, in every fibre, in every cell, so intense. I hadn’t felt so alive for months, years anymore. This intense feeling of taking part in this game, in this world again made a single tear stream down my face behind the mask. I couldn’t tell what I was feeling, I really couldn’t. All I knew was just that it was intense.
I leaned back and lay the tip of my finger on my dick. Still hard. No wonder. Three of those drinks were sufficient to keep it hard for days. And I had concentrated so hard on not coming before him. Now I had carried it home with me.
Thinking of his scars I rubbed the glans between my thumb and forefinger.
That was Bruce Wayne, Batman.
I stopped, feeling oddly ashamed suddenly. But he wouldn’t see me; he’d never see me and we would forget that it was me and him.
Bruce Wayne showed up in his suit with an empty smile, cutting a ribbon, opening a hospital. I closed my eyes and fingers round my dick. No one would take him from me and not even I would take him from me. I was starting to live a life behind that mask, more than I was living with that green hair and red lips by now.
Bruce Wayne entered the hospital and signed some papers.
And how he signed them.
I started pumping frantically, giving myself something more concrete to enjoy.
Bruce Wayne took a glass of wine and sipped at it. Some wine dripped from the edge of the glass and hit his fingers. He looked down at them, absentminded.
I bent forward in bliss.
His eyes wandered across the floor, searching for something.
Close to orgasm, I slid from the couch, down on the floor. I wanted to prolong it and savour that state.
Bruce Wayne looked up again, directly at me.
I moaned when I came, semen splashing against the leather. Iced eyes, glistening in a warm bluish brown, were fixed on me. Bruce Wayne looked at me.
Panting hard, I collapsed, letting myself fall to the floor, sticky, warm cum everywhere. Everything was spinning around me; colours, materials, emotions, thoughts. Nothing would ever be the same.
And in fact, I was sick of the same.
Every day, trying to think up something which could or would catch someone’s, anyone’s attention, doing everything just to be noticed, making a fool of myself – Oh, my mistake, that gun is the wrong one again! when I know exactly that when I will pull the trigger on this one just a little flag with the word “BANG” will show up. No, I was sick of that. It was beneath my dignity and it seemed like I had just rediscovered that dignity.
Funny, behind a mask.
I sighed and wiped my fingers clean. Could I talk of dignity at all under these circumstances, having someone I hadn’t even known branding and fucking me? But maybe that was the thrill of it. I could decide what I wanted to do with my dignity and whom I allowed to cross the line. At least, he let me cling to that illusion, the Bauta, when he asked me why I had come again if that had been such a terrible trip the first time. So why had I come again? Was I just another vulgar masochist? In the end, it didn’t matter what I was as long as it pleased me.
At that moment, I wished he had given me something along to enjoy. Some bruise, some aching bone, some scratch, some mark. Barely knowing him, I had already fallen for him. What I had been dreaming of for a long time in secrecy had finally become true. And still, I had difficulties accepting that for real. After all, I was a mere thought, so I had told my first love when she had followed me down the motorway, stopping me with the bike and asking me to love her back.
Just a mere thought. An idea. A concept. Beyond humanity. A mere thought.
A lonely thought.
A thought which was dying for a second one.
I had deprived myself of my humanity because I was afraid of it. Love scared me more than a gun pressed against my temple ever could.
Well, did it have to be love? We could stay fuckbuddies, fingering each other into bliss every month. We didn’t need any love there.
Part of me knew that that was just bullshit.
Maybe I was just overthinking it. I got up and went to bed.
The next morning started with a hangover. I would never get used to those aphrodisiacs. Headache and a dry mouth made me stay in bed till the afternoon sun shone into my room. And again, I had forgotten to get the milk. Cussing, I got up, got dressed and finally got me some.
Days went by and every single day I woke up with him on my mind.
I could just drive to his mansion and say Hello. But then again, that wasn’t an option at all. In this life, we weren’t related to each other in any respect. In this life, I was the criminal and he was the one hunting that one.
That served to make me crave him all the more. To approach him in a fine restaurant of his, wearing a neat suit and introducing myself to him, people around us panicking because it is the Joker, after all.
I was wondering whether he was feeling the same, missing me. “Missed me?” would be the first thing I’d ask him as soon as I had found my voice.
My appetite hadn’t returned yet either; it had dwindled even more but not due to despair or boredom. Whatever I did, I did it with him. Going for a walk, getting milk, showering or decorating the walls with small black rhombs.
It wasn’t love. I was just longing for him.
And then, when the invitation finally was lying on the floor again my heart sank to my boots.
Had he been missing me during this time? I bit down on my lip and a strange feeling made its way through my soaked mind.
I wouldn’t go there.
If he had been missing me he surely would show up again and thinking of him waiting there for me, in vain, made my heart beat faster. I was a bloody sadist, as much as I was a masochist. Bruce Wayne, standing in line, being the only one left without a partner. A pang in my guts told me that I definitely had to try my hand at topping one day as well.

On that day, the Volto entered the castle the way he always did. Anxiously, he walked down the corridor to the hall, fearing what he would see there. He wasn’t afraid of him being there; he was afraid of him not being there.
With his head bent and eyes glued to the floor, he joined the circle. He didn’t dare to look up and search for him. Minutes passed in silence until the women came. His nervousness grew.
The woman in front of him wore her hair red. She was beautiful, like all the other escort ladies, but her beauty didn’t move him. He took the drink from her and when the couples started leaving the hall she left on her own. Men crossed the hall, greeting each other and leaving together.
He clenched his teeth, realizing that he was left alone. His fiancé wouldn’t come. Desperately, he remained standing there, waiting. Maybe the taxi was late. Maybe it had broken down.

In the meantime, the taxi driver knocked on the door of Heartven Road.
I knew who it was and I opened, naked. The man didn’t bat an eye.
“Sir, are you not going to join us tonight?” he asked.
I licked my lips and opened the door some more to let him enter.
“Have a seat,” I said dryly, disappearing in the kitchen to get a bottle of wine and two glasses while he sat down.
Expectantly, he watched me opening the bottle and filling up the glasses.
“You know...”
I didn’t know how to continue.
I sat down and sipped the wine instead. Looking around the room I noticed the tailcoat lying on the bed. I had put it there in case I decided to go though.
“I know who it is.”
Quite unimpressed, the man sipped his wine too and kept looking at me. When he realized that it was his turn to say something he straightened his back and put the glass on the table.
“Sir, half of our guests know each other. It doesn’t matter. When they put on their masks, they don’t know each other anymore.”
“Is that so.”
“I would advise you to accompany me to the castle. Your Master surely is waiting for you already.”
I felt a bout of defiance welling up and something else coming to life as well at that word he had used.
“What if I find that I can’t...serve him.”
“Our heads know their business and the people they are inviting. You should trust them to know what they are doing.”
“Who are they?”
“I cannot tell you”
Well, it was worth a try. I took the glass again and felt more confused than before.
“Sir...”
I jumped from the sofa, enraged at the fiftieth ‘Sir’ and objection this evening and yelled at him, “WHAT?!”
It was easy to unsettle me tonight. I was on pins and needles, missing that man so badly that I wouldn’t admit it to myself at all, feeling ashamed of such a kind of dependence.
“May I tell you something?”
I lifted an eyebrow to show him that I pretended to be curious.
“I don’t know you, not in the way they do, but I can tell that you are having troubles. I understand that it is a shock to get to know who that is behind the mask, but I think you should give him another chance. I am sure he would do the same.”
“Fuck you, you think you can get me with that? He would do the same, huh?”
“Sir, I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Before he got up he emptied the glass and then left the room.
I was at a complete loss as to what to do. He had just left. Idiot.
Idiots. I was surrounded by masked idiots. And I? I was just in the middle of them, idiots. Head of the idiots. Head of fools.
Close to tears, I sat down on the sofa.
Torn between pride, doubts, fears and longing, I had another glass of wine, trying to sort out my feelings. I was afraid of him. He knew that I knew who he was. And I was sure that he knew who I was. How could he have consented to this? Certainly, the Bauta had instructed him about his plans to pair us up and he had just agreed on it? Paired up with his nemesis? How desperate must he have been?
But his longing was the card I was having up my sleeve. Surely, he was waiting there for me already. At my mercy. I would let him wait.
And there it was again, those bonds. Whatever I did, whatever I thought, it was always about emotions tied to him. Whether it was me feeling pleasure at the thought of letting him wait or me craving for his impossibly delight-serving dick worming its way through my bowels, it was always about him.
I took the glass and threw it against the wall. It burst into millions of shards, scattered on the floor. Inflamed with rage, I got up and disguised myself. The driver of the taxi slightly pursed his lips in amusement when he saw me stomping towards the car half an hour later. I said no more word. Seething with rage, I watched the streets flying by, people passing, traffic lights turning red and green...until it started fading.
A pleasant kind of emptiness took its place and I managed to relax, unclenching the fist I had kept closed until now.
I wasn’t a concept. As much as I pretended to be, I wasn’t.
After a long time of solitude, pain and agony, someone cared about me again. I would have been crazy to dismiss that. Sometimes, it was hard for me to shake off that insane personality I was displaying for the fun of myself and others and to return to what I was, what I hid behind that layer of a broad grin and silly laughter. I kept it safely stored in the back of my mind and always made sure I would find the way back to it again, back home. Back home to Jack.
Not the Jack who had died that night in the acid, not the Jack who had licked their boots and not the Jack who had always been serving others to survive.
That Jack who was human. Intelligent, creative and pure. Untouched, yet surrounded by walls built of self-doubts, abuse and mistreatments.
Jack was there, cowering, crying, waiting to be freed. I knew he was there, I had always been feeling his presence.
I looked up from my thoughts as some lights flew past me.
Could he accept him?
Could he possibly have glanced at him during a moment of heedlessness?
Until now, I had always been regarding Jack as a pitiful loser, neglecting his brilliance. He had just reacted to the world’s treatment and turned into what he had been, but under the surface of this layer of rubbish and pain, he was brilliant.
And worse, lovable.
No wonder I had locked him away and grinned at everybody widely who showed any sign of affection.
I couldn’t tell anymore who was behind this mask tonight. Anyway, since everything felt like wearing a mask lately, I had decided to go without and paint my face instead. It didn’t matter anymore anyway.
When the castle came into sight my heart started racing. This was Jack. Jack getting nervous about another man’s feelings, Jack worrying about being fit for a lover at all, Jack...just that Jack who had died that night. The Jack which I really needed now had to step out of the dark and claim the stage.

With slow steps, the Volto left the hall.
Completely alone, just a distant, whispering moaning flooding the hall and echoing from the walls. He went down the corridor, opened the glass doors and stepped outside. In front of him, the vast blackness of the surrounding woods greeted him silently. He took a few steps towards the balustrade and stared into the darkness, trying to see some light, and if it was just a tiny one...but there was none. No torches lit the woods, no stars lit the sky.
Forgotten, damaged and lost.

The taxi stopped in front of the entry and the driver got out to open the door for me.
In serene calmness, I got out of the car and took the stairs towards the large doors of the castle.
I trusted him. If he was so sure about that all then I had to accept it and not question it.
As long as he would love me I would trust him.
The driver accompanied me up the stairs and opened the huge castle door. I entered and stumbled straight into the arms of the chief Bauta. Like a statue he stood there; how long must he have been waiting there for me? I clenched my teeth and got myself ready for a dressing-down, which I knew I had to endure after this. His status was higher than mine. I hated him for that since not even any judges, nuthouse CEOs or popes were of higher rank than I. Defiantly, I halted in front of him and boldly glared at him.
“Your driver informed me that you were facing troubles,” he remarked coldly.
I remained silent, waiting.
“He said that you know of the identity of your Master.”
I still said nothing and he took a step towards me, leaning forward until his face was just a foot away from mine. His voice sounded even more muffled when he talked now.
“Be advised to keep your mouth shut outside these walls. We get to hear about the tiniest leak of information concerning this topic and we will hunt you down and you know that we are capable of this. We will deal you electric shocks to fry your brains crispy and then we will perform a lobotomy on you so all you can do from then on is slobbering and farting in a moist corner of the cellars of this castle, never seeing the light of this pretty world again.
Got me, Mr. Joker?”
My eyebrow was twitching.
It usually did that when something unsettled the very core of my soul. Images of that special Mr. Hugo Strange electroconvulsive therapy in the moist cellars of Arkham flashed through my mind and let me break out in a cold sweat.
“I never planned on singing about him,” I said dryly, my voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.
That dear doc had done an excellent job. Ten, one, ten, two, ten, three, 400 volt, ten, one, ten, two, ten, three, 450 volt, ten one, ten, two, ten, three, 490 volt, ten, a sting in my heart pulled me out of that nightmare.
I looked down on the floor, clenching my teeth, remembering the cramps making me do the same thing.
The Bauta watched me melting in my pity. I was sure that he knew about Arkham.
“And don’t ever be late again,” he added, then turned around, his cape brushing over my shins as he did so, leaving the hallway.
The mental terror faded quickly as he walked away. I sucked in the air and violently pushed the rest of those images back to the area of eternal oblivion.
“Where is he?” I shouted across the hallway, hoping that the Bauta would still hear it.
“On the balcony”
“Thanks, you sonofabitch,” I muttered and followed him, heading for the balcony.
After the first three steps my heart sank to my boots again. It was routine by now but it showed me how emotional I could get about that man. Whether I liked that or not wasn’t up for debate. A mix of fear and excitement made me hurry. What would I see, looking at him? Who would I see, looking at him? It was all so very new to me.

The Volto was staring into the dark. He would spend the night there, alone, and he would return home when the first rays of light would lie down on the world again, alone.
He was regretting it by now. He should have thought of it, taken his revelation into account. Yet, he had been playing with fire and had burnt his fingers. Dealing with that man had never led to anything fruitful, he should have known better. His world was in pieces now and though, he clung to it, looking at the shards.
Thinking about it, he couldn’t stand it. It had always been a delicate thing, that thing between the two of them, but now he had ruined it completely.
Lost in his misery, he didn’t notice. Only when he stopped behind him he quickly turned his head and at seeing something he fully turned around. His eyes were still wet and his vision slightly blurred.
The light had returned. A shining, white silhouette in the dark, the contrary of a shadow.
Light.
A man, dressed in a white tail coat, white chemise, white tie, white pants and white shoes stood in front of him. His hair was dyed white, the contact lenses he had added were milky white, his lips full and white.
He wore no mask.
And though, his gaze was as empty as the Volto’s face had always been.
The Volto was paralyzed. He had never seen such beauty. Not in anyone alive. Following a sudden inspiration, he bowed down, silently thanking him for coming. He felt that he had to do that since he hadn’t taken his coming for granted after all that had happened.
The white man silently watched him. For another moment, it was silent, then the Volto closed his eyes and took his mask off.
A man with black hair and piercing eyes which were framed by black entered the night. The white man’s eyes came back to life. He had expected that, but he hadn’t expected the impact that look left on him.
Silence spread between them again. Around them, everything was going on, people laughing in the distance and moans carried outside the castle on airy wings.
They looked at each other, savouring the moment; experiencing something none of them would have believed to be possible at all.
After some more moments the white man slowly came closer and bent his knee. He turned his head to the side to expose the collared neck.
Begging.
Never he had been doing something similar. His pride always would have stood in the way and suddenly, with Joker and the bootlicker being gone, he could do it.
For another person.
The black dressed man had expected nothing like that, he had not even expected him to ever show up again. His facade slipped and a caring passion returned to his eyes. He took out the leash and made him his again.
Then, he took a mask out of his cape and handed it over. The white man took it, got up and wordlessly put it on. The black rhombs were the only dash of colour now, drawing all attention to the mask. He stood up and waited patiently.
The black man put on his mask as well and together, they left the balcony, their heads raised and their pace smart.
The circle was complete.

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The Circle