"None of this is necessary," Crane spoke loud enough for his voice to echo around the chapel. "Joker, I'll give you some toxin in exchange for letting us leave."

Joker pirouetted to face Crane and quirked his head. Linda was shocked seeing the exposed back, thinking it was an unexpected opening.

Crane shook his head at Linda, communicating not to capitalize on the illusion of weakness, as the Joker addressed him.

"No, no, no, doctor," Joker 'tsked' and wagged his finger. "This night has my brain all in knots. Despite my apparent 'genius,' I make a lousy thinker. I can't seem to block all this out," Joker gestured the entire world, though nothing in particular. "Solving my problems is easiest done through action. I liked what you said earlier, that all we are is what we do. So, I'm going to fight your favorite little toy here, Johnny, and figure out if ya'll are better."

"Better than…" Crane hated that he placated the purposefully open ended ramblings.

"Better than enough of a replacement," the Joker's voice went uncharacteristically low at that.

The implication was left in the air. Crane and Linda were on arch-enemy try outs, as Joker's previous relationship was on the fritz.

"If you win," Joker cocked his head back to peer one eye at the battle-intent Linda, "then I don't need your Fear anymore. If I win, you'll both be on the floor, soggy and red, and I'll pilfer the toxin off your conglomeration of very dead particles."

"No," Crane said, straightening his spine and pinning back his shoulders. He hadn't noticed how much his normally trained posture had sagged while being dogged around by a knife wielding kidnapper. "Linda, we're leaving. I'm dropping one sac of toxin in this church, and then walking out of here. We refuse to entertain your childish antics any further."

Crane had hoped for a glimmer of menace from the Joker, but the killer covered his mouth as he uncouthly giggled at Crane's confidence.

"I'm not going anywhere," said Linda. Her double-jointed fingers snapped in, Tiger claw-like, and back into a Willow-Leaf palm position. "Not until after I teach this punk some manners."

Damnit, Linda! Crane grimaced.

Joker's entire body sighed. "Your banter, it seems, is in need of serious work-shopping."

"Shut the fuck up," Linda's tone brooked no nonsense.

Crane noticed Joker twitch at the remark, and couldn't help agreeing with the killer. Linda's strength certainly wasn't in her quips.

"You threatened the smartest man in the city," Linda said. "A man I believe in enough to gift my mind and future to. However, no matter how much I wish that was enough, I know I'm only good for one thing."

She closed her eyes as she spoke, and shifted deliberately enough to look like a slow motion, crouching into a lower stance. Her arms spread one behind and one forward in as controlled a motion as a machine. "I'm a weapon. And I finally get to be a weapon for the man I, respect more than anything."

Crane noted the near imperceptible hitch between Linda's words 'man I-,' and 'respect.' His stomach lurched and the blood in his face drained. Was the voice in her head that wanted to say 'love,' still that strong?

How repulsively jejune. Was the choke hold of her Electra Complex that overpowering to her? Linda's father trained her to be a killer. She'd rebelled and moved back to Gotham to become a psychologist. Crane had assumed she'd transferred her need of a 'father' to accept her as a brain, rather than just a body, onto him.

That is slightly funny. Such a womanly struggle, to be desired for her innards rather than her outer physicality. Though, of course, it's not a fear of being wanted sexually for her. It's frighteningly the opposite.

Crane had been able to control her, hiring her as his protege for her mind, enough that he could exploit her body. Now, it was all backfiring. She was playing him too, hiding her Electra Complex while faking that she was shedding the dead weight of her sexual desires.

Perhaps… It would be best if they just kill each other.

"Do what you want," Crane said it quietly, but the creasing of Linda's eyes expressed she'd heard him and was sussing out whether he meant it as an admonishment or consent.

Joker began walking even nearer Linda, "As much as you might want-"

"Die," Linda interrupted.

She launched into her attack before a noise like an explosion of highly pressurized air boomed out from her. An arc of dust shot out behind her leg looking like she had an exhaust pipe. Her arm swooshing through where the Joker's head had been was audible.

Joker stumbled back, barely dodging Linda's swipe. His expression was fearful, and he almost tripped in his retreat from her. Sudden panic etched across his face.

An act, Crane could see through the Joker's antics. But could Linda?

It seemed unlikely, as she took threw herself into her gained footing, moving in fluid bursts, kicking up the air-exploding booms and arcs of dust with each attack.

The Joker looked completely on the run. Each dodged attack was at the cost of his footing and balance. He swayed, dipped half to the floor, and spun awkwardly to catch himself.

Joker's brief flounder gave Linda the best opportunity yet to land a hit. Playing it safe, she choose a turning kick aimed at his face. All she had to do to win was grab any part of her opponent, but knowing the legends of how feral and dangerous the Joker was, she no doubt was planning to weaken him first.

Joker dove backwards, landing on his back with a thud. As he clambered back up, his shoulders sagged the tiniest bit. Apparently the fall had knocked the air out of him.

But appearances could be, and definitely were in this case, deceiving.

Crane recognized the philosophy in Joker's fighting.

A few years prior Crane had learned the tenets and forms of Drunken Fist Kung Fu. The style took considerable balance and dexterity to move the body around and appear weak to throw the opponent off guard. The swaying movements mimicking a drunken state made it quicker to dodge, and less obvious when the quick attacks would shoot forward.

Crane always lost when he'd practiced the style and had seen most other's also lose while trying it in actual matches. He assumed it was more of a novelty style with principles that were deadly, if they could be applied to real situations. However, it took too much concentration away from the fight and put too much energy into keeping up the swaying and the deceit.

The Joker, Crane witnessed, could use his own version of the Drunken Fist style without any of the cons.

Joker was the perfect performer, luring Linda in with her own confidence. The human eye couldn't tell the difference between a fatal hit Joker struggled to dodge versus the hits he could have yawned at by swaying away from with ease.

He hadn't even attempted his own strikes yet. Linda looked increasingly confident, until she became increasingly frustrated by the never ending retreat by her opponent. Her attacks became simpler, closer range, as she began to favor the riskier use of fatal grapples.

Crane considered yelling for Linda to be more careful, to warn her of Joker's tactic. But it was possible if she became hurt enough to die, she'd have also worn Joker out too. After that, Crane felt alright about his own odds fighting Joker. He'd seen through the tactics well enough and understood the Joker better than anyone.

His fear of Joker receded. Maybe he could take a half-tuckered Joker in a fight. As he watched the fireworks, he itched for his turn.

Linda shouted as she struck and missed. Her hat flew off and a tuft of hair flew over her face and stuck to her sweaty cheek.

She snapped another turning kick aimed to break Joker's ribs.

His own legs sprung up and shot out behind him away from Linda.

Linda's kick cracked the air below him.

The moment her leg returned to the ground it swiveled back and away, giving up footing for the first time.

Joker failed to get his legs back under him as he fell into a face plant.

Or, it looked like he had. His hands had slapped the ground a second before his cheek bone.

One of Linda's hands covered her face. Tears poured from her eyes, followed by gouts of dark blood from underneath her hand.

Joker stayed splayed out on the floor as Linda winced, snapping her nose back in place.

Crane covered his eyes, only able to continue watching by spreading his fingers and peering through the cracks. He cropped Linda out as best he could.

"Now I don't need to worry about your lover sneaking up on my ass," Joker told Linda as he creaked his way off the floor, as laboriously as an old man ravaged by sciatica.

"Crane!" Linda's mouth sounded a bit sloppy. "Run! I can't split my focus on fighting him and worrying about you."

Crane hesitated to do anything. Did she let herself get hit? Is she bleeding on purpose to incentivize me into escaping without her?

Crane didn't like attempts at manipulating him. He despised being told what to do.

"You run, you die before both feet exit the narthex," Joker's lips spread to its widest most inhuman proportions.

Crane ran a hand down his face in frustration. As much as he shouldn't base his actions on what other's wanted him to do, he also shouldn't act contrarian out of obstinance.

As he stalked down the aisle toward Joker, aligning the enemy in his sights to block his view of Linda, he stuck a hand in his pocket, fingers coiling around his telescopic baton. "You can't fool me Joker. You put up a strong front, but I see your true weak under belly."

Joker loosened up and began hopping like a boxer itching for his match. "I hope your right Johnny boy. It would be boring otherwise."

In a fluid motion Crane flicked the baton out and sprang it open.

His free hand twisted as his hip and shot off a dart from the wrist mount.

It was a practiced motion, distracting the opponent with the springing forth baton while shooting from a different angle.

A placid expressed Joker crouched down in time for the dart to whizz past his hair…

And hit Linda in the arm.

She was quick to unstick the projectile and toss it aside. Her eyes widened and she refrained from swaying all the way over.

"A sleep dart?" Joker leaned into his crouch, as if stretching his legs was his entire purpose for falling into the pose. "Do you really think that would work on me, even if you hadn't missed?"

Crane charged forward, reeling the baton back to strike.

No more banter. Time's on his side now.

Although farther away than Linda, Crane and her reached Joker at the same time, due to her slowing movements. He could see the strain for her eyes to stay open and her legs standing.

Light glimmered off Joker's oversized teeth as he whirled fast enough to make his motions too hard to read.

Crane and Linda kicked and struck out with their hands and the baton as Joker finally let loose.

It was like fighting a whirlwind.

Joker's feet were on the floor as much as his back or hands.

He rolled into a dodge before shooting off the floor like a bullet, landing a hard punch to Crane's face.

Joker rolled on his back where he spun around, kicking wildly in a breakdancing motion.

His movements were not only fast, they were unpredictable in a way Crane had never experienced.

He tripped. Crane hadn't seen Joker's leg trip him, his attacks appearing directed at Linda.

As Crane fell to his back, he realized how much seeing through Joker's attacks couldn't make up for that inhuman dexterity and balance.

No doubt the legends were true Joker could go toe to toe with the dark knight.

Joker's twisting and spinning ceased once Crane crawled halfway from the ground into a crouch.

Joker stood there taking deliberate breaths. He was either less tired than was fair for any living thing after such a physical excursion, or he was faking how much vitality he had left in the tank.

Linda collapsed to the ground, eyes closing.

Crane tried to appear ready for round two, but he'd already failed to be a decent match against a Joker whose attention had been split between two opponents. He also couldn't prevent his body from panting without feeling like he'd pass out.

"Your girl was ridiculously strong," Joker spoke slower than usual. Hopefully due to him needing to catch his breath more than he was letting on. "But I've always found it easy enough to deal with strong opponents. I always wondered what makes normals so darn afraid of the physically dominant."

"I'm a far-cry from normal," Crane panted, rising to his feet.

Joker matched Crane in their arms reach, his real-time battle experience was far greater than Crane's, he was faster, more indomitable, and better. Plus, Joker could exploit Crane's aversion to blood at any time.

Was there any weakness Crane could exploit? Was there a single advantage he held over his opponent?

His weapons still weren't enough to even make it a fair fight.

There was a chance, if he could get into Joker's head.

"I'll tell you what will happen if this fight continues," Crane thrust his index finger toward Joker. "I'm going to crush your windpipe."

Joker mimed tugging at a collar he wasn't wearing. "Well, now I'm all worried. Guess I should be extra attentive to defend that part of my body."

Crane smirked and dropped his baton. It was an old trick, but occasionally an effective one. Was he bluffing, or double bluffing?

He went in high, jabs at throat level. Joker parried boxer-like, his fists covering his face.

Crane's jab turned into a clinch as he grabbed for Joker's defending arms. Instead of his feet enacting the fancy kicks he'd drilled for thousands of hours, they spurted out for low weak shin kicks.

A hit!

He'd landed a real hit to the Joker directly in the shin.

Joker tried to lash out with his arms, but Crane's grip proved strong enough to hold him back.

The pain from his kicked shin caused the Joker to tilt as he put pressure on it.

Crane pushed into Joker's momentum, sticking a leg forward behind the other's legs to knock him over, neck first into the wooden pew.

He realized the trap a moment too late.

Joker's injury was another act. He planted all his weight on the kicked 'hurt' leg, and let Crane fall into the momentum he'd pushed himself into.

As Joker ripped his arm free of Crane's grasp, the doctor felt something sticky at his own neck.

Crane found himself again fallen to the ground, back rested against a pew.

He plucked out a tissue from a pocket and dabbed it to his neck. It came back soaked.

Joker loomed over and held out two of his fingers, emphasizing the fine points he filed his nails into. "Oops. I think I may have nicked your jugular a bit there."

Crane felt himself grow cold. His racing heart beat faster but somehow also felt weaker. Each breath became harder and more ragged.

Dribbles of Crane's blood ran like tears down Joker's sharpened fingernails. His long tongue reached out and over to the clean them off.

Crane vomited his entire stomach's contents.

Joker slurped his tongue back in his mouth, instead choosing to flick his hand at the wrist to dash the blood droplets away. "Gross. But can you imagine if I did that? Not to insult you and say you'd taste bad, Johnny, just not feeling that kinky at the moment."

"Please," Crane's voice came out raspy from the bile stinging his throat. Tears had begun plopping unremitting from his eyes. "Not like this. You can kill me, but please not by bleeding to death."

Joker sneered. He looked truly disgusted.

"Joker, please," Crane gasped the words through deep sobs. "I- I'll do anything. I'll give you my money. I can give you the formula for the fear toxin. Don't let me die here like this. I'm begging you… I can tell you Batman's true identity."

Joker's sneer deepened. "None of those offers appeal to me in the slightest. Money means nothing to me. As I already said, I only need the toxin you have on your person." He turned his back to then swivel his head back to peer down at Crane with one eye. "And that last offer is the worst rubbish of all. Batman is the true-"

Before he could finish, Crane's trap was sprung.

Linda pounced from the ground at her prey.

Her hands spread open in what felt like slow motion to Crane.

Each finger found its place against Joker's throat and lifted him into the air, swooping him along into Linda's trajectory.

Both bodies flew into the air several feet from the ground. Linda landed with each foot planted on a pew and the Joker's dangling in the space between. She had to fully extend her arms forward and above her head to make up for the height difference between her and her quarry.

Joker was trapped like a fly in a web.

Crane stood up, wheezing from the sight of so much blood, but knowing he was otherwise fine. The cut to his neck had been superficial, Joker's own attempt at a bluff.

"Your weakness, Joker," he couldn't help himself from smirking. "Is the Batman. I mention something personal about him, and it's enough to distract you, even if only for a second."

Seeing only the Linda from behind, Crane couldn't tell if she was shaking from joy their ploy had worked, or from a seething rage. The dart he'd intentionally shot her with had been drained of its sleeping drug.

Crane wiped his face then neck clean with his sleeve. The shirt would have to be incinerated. He hated how detestably pleading he'd had to act in order to sink the trap's hook into the Joker, but he'd only begged for his life with the aim of throwing Joker off kilter. And it worked.

"Acting the fool," Crane reflected out loud. "A hard lesson to learn, but you taught me well."

A gurgling noise escaped Joker's collapsing windpipe as his body floundered like a fish.

"Should I kill him?" Linda asked.

Crane rocked his hand back and forth. "Halfway. Make sure to knock him out beyond a doubt of him faking. Bind him, thoroughly, and we'll take him back to my place. He'll make an exceptional lab rat."

"I'll bind him up after I bend his limbs until they play like accordions," Linda snarled.

Joker put the remainder of his energy into a final pull at the vice grip of Linda's hands before his arm collapsed to his sides. His legs ceased their fidgeting and clacked against each other unusually loudly.

Crane noticed the flicker from one of Joker's alligator leather boots before he could say anything.

The final kick of the fight was the swiftest executed during the entire night. Joker's flexibility was showcased as his knife-wielding boot was left hovering over his head for a moment before Linda dropped him. She fell between the podium, hands at her face, and a healthy gush of blood following her down out of Crane's view.

Joker made his way to Crane walking across the pew, until he fell to his knees, grasping at his throat. A croak seeped out of his mouth, but clearly, that was the most he was capable of.

In controlled yet hurried movements, Joker removed his boot and put the small revealed blade to his throat and slid it horizontally, creating a crease of red. He clicked a high-end pen out of the boots sole before dismantling it and dipping the tube into his created incision.

Crane found himself on the floor curled up in the fetal position. There was too much blood, far too much blood for his mind to even consider moving.

He watched helplessly as Joker's dribbling red mouth unfurled into the best smile it could manage with the neck and throat mangled as they were, as the pale man bent down to him to reach under Cranes' collar and take away the sack of toxin there.

Crane wedged his eyes closed and squeezed hard at his nose to prevent smelling Joker's pungent blood.

A hoarse whisper was the most Joker could manage, notably lacking all its 'stage presence.' "I find it easy to deal with smart opponents too. But you were just crazy enough to make this worth my time. That's why you're still alive." Joker's lips were nearly touching Crane's ear, yet the whisper was so quiet Crane felt the breath against his inner ear stronger than he could make out the words. "Come find me when you're crazy enough to defeat me for real."

Joker was gone.

Crane was balled up, unable to move, no matter how much he repeated to himself, I can't get caught here. This situation won't look right to others.

All he could do was wait and listen in hopes of hearing Linda move.

In the distance, the clock tower could be heard striking ten, then eleven, then midnight, as Crane laid still and immobilized…