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Family ties

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    Family ties

    The room was small and dark.The lights were out. Only a faint light was shining through the lower slit of the door. A little more light and one would have been able to see the shape of a small figure sitting on a simple wooden chair. The man was bounded at hands and feet. The cuffs where of the professional kind. No cheating there.

    The man's head was down. The whole impression of the scene was desperate. This man was about to die soon, and very likely a painful death. That much seemd sure. But a tiny detail did not fit into the picture. Or more precisely, something did not sound right: The man was humming.

    At first the room was not in near total blackness. It started with two brutish guards and blinding lights. The two man, let's call them Tom and Dick, had delivered their victim roughly into the room. They had pummeled the small man a bit, as was their usual habit. But not too hard. Mr. J. had made clear, he wanted this special guest unharmed. And even if Mr. J. had not asked for kindness, Tom and Dick would have been very careful. Even the dimmest minds, and Tom and Dick surely belonged to this kind,would have be careful with their newest friend here. They had heard storys about Dr. L.

    So, Tom and Dick treated Dr. L. rather gently. A punch here an there, but no bones broken and not in the face. Indeed, they were especially careful with his face. They had put an old football mask on the victims face. And even after this protection was installed, they were careful. They had seen pictures of people who had been to close to Dr. L.'s face. Not very pleasant pictures. Not at all.

    And they were surprised about the wiry old fart, who was not making any soumds whatsoever.

    Tom and Dick tried a bit of talking than. Usually, a man brought into this chamber would like to talk. Victims always wanted to talk. Everyone who had to sit in this special room and on this special chair knew instinctively, that this was probably the last chair and the last room they were seeing alive. And these two guardsman were probably the last men to talk to.
    So the victims liked to talk at the end of there usullaly miserable life. Sometimes they tried to talk their way out. Maybe bribe the guards. Sometimes praying, sometimes begging, sometimes crying. Everything just to keep a little bit of hope in the soon to be dead man's head.

    And Tom and Dick liked to gave them some hope, since for them, it was nice game to play. Crushing the hope of dying man was their greatest pleasure.

    But not this one. Dr. L. was silent. And calm.

    Finally Tom and Dick got bored. At least that's what they told each other after leaving the room. Actually, throu the thick layers of mental lard that surrounded Tom's and Dick's empty minds, they sensed something thought long forgotten. They felt fear. So they placed themselves outside and chatted about the last hooker they had, apparently a marvelous little girly, leaving Dr. L. in darkness.

    After a long time finally the door rattled and went open. Still not much light was pouring in but it immediatly got much noisier. A vistor came in, or better, he went in an out, chatting to real or imaginary people outside, laughing noisily. The visitor brought a camp chair, went out again chatting, laughing loudly and seemingly in the best of moods, delivered a bottle of wine, two plastic cups and a straw.

    Finally he settled himself lazy on the camp chair in front of the resident and breathed in and out as if exhausted. Again it would have needed a little more light to see that the visitors face was...a clowns face. Or rather a grimasse. The makeup was careless, careless and terrible not hiding but amplifying the two big scars, one in the left and one in the right corner of his mouth. A permanent grin, now grinning again. From time to time a fleshy tounge came out of the mouth, licking it's corners, fast as a snakes tongue.

    Now the two smiling maskes were facing each other and none could say which smile was deadlier. Finally the new visitor spoke:

    "Now! How is my best buddy! We haven't met for such a looooong time! Oh! Oh! I brought some wine. I'm deeply sorry I could'nt get you're favourite Wine, Château d'Yquem was it, or was'nt it? You know I'm not good with these thing, poor kid from the street, you know, happy to have the cheap stuff. But the guy at the store said this is also fine stuff, fine stuff! The best he said. Well, as I said, I dont know much about it, but he was wearing some sort of Tuxedo or whatever it is called, so I trust him completly. He said it's a Bordeux nineteenhundredsomething, a hundred bucks the bottle. I mean a hundred bucks! If thats not the best wine i dont know. Uoh, let me help you.

    During the chatting Mr. J. had oppend the bottle with a small knife and had filled the plastic cups. In one plastic cup he placed the straw and placed the other side in Dr. L.'s mouth through the small bars of his football mask. Dr. L. did not hesitate or even flinch. They both took a long sip.

    "Uagh, not that's a good shit if you'll excuse my Bronx! Uhm!" Another gulp. "Now Dr. L! How is it going? How's your sweet little family? How old is your boy, Alexander, how old is little Alexander now? Five..something? And your wife, how is Clarice? How beautiful she is! Hope they're both fine. Would really hate to see them sick or something. Indeed, I think they also might come along for our little party here. Little Alex visiting his dad at work! Will be a great experience for him! And how are you? You look somewhat pale! You should get more outside, more sun, maybe a vacation! Everyone needs a rest from time to time. Aah!" Chuckle.

    "You know," Mr. J continued, "I considered you and your sweet little family always a some sort of relatives. Of the same kind, if you know what I mean. You're work was so inspiring! You know, I saw the pictures that nurse which you had a bit of an argument with. Very nice work. She lived another 10 years with that new...special apperance that you gave to her face. Died recently, poor woman. On the other hand, she will not look much worse now in her grave, do you think?" He bellowed a laughter.

    "You know I wished I could the same to the city. I mean, sorry if I get a bit prosaic. But biting off the face of the city and showing the uglyness beneath it. The real face, not the mask. That's my biggest wish." And he took another sip from his cup while watching opponent. "What do you think?"

    "I think you have been betrayed." It was the first time Dr. L. had spoken. His voice sounded metallic. "That's not a Bordeux".

    Mr. J. gazed at him. Than he bellowed another laughter. "Hahahahaha, always my Dr. L! Now that's a news, this little fucker betrayed me! I think I will have a word with him later. 100 bucks and it's not even...what is it than? Come on, you surely now. Some other Grand Cru at least?"

    "No. Some mixture of cheap wines, 2 Dollar a bottle. At most." Again, Mr. J. was bellowing a laughting. His tongue was licking. "Well, I've killed for less, I can promise you." Chuckle.

    Sip. "Now, my dear Doctor, while we are sitting here and wait for your beloved ones, may I ask you another question? Why than did you betray me?"

    "Because you are so incredibly boring."

    As much as Mr. J.s question was without any of that pathetic unfunny fun, the immediate answer of Dr. L was.

    "Actually", Dr. L. continued, "our agreemend, as you call it, was, that you keep care of your part of the city, while I keep care of mine. And you keep care of your little house-pet as well, the bat-man.

    But neither did you stay in your part of Gotham. Remember? You want to rip of the face of the city. The whole city, which by definition includes my private realm as well. Nor did you kill Batman. You played some silly games with him because you wanted him to become you. Your spiritual brother or whatever. Your bizarre dual. Your twin brother, the good side as much as you are the bad side.

    Ridiculous. Preposterous. Is he also a member of your imaginary family now? And if he ist your spititual brother, your other side, who will I call him? And how should I call you? Nephew? Or son? But of much more relevance is, why is your masked friend still alive and well? So, tell me, who betrayed whom? And please hurry with your answers, Joker, your time is running out. Tic tac tic tic tac..."

    This time it took a while until the laughter came from the gruesome face that was the Joker's. And it was much more the growl of a wolf than the laughter of a human being. And it didn't stop. Finally his laughter turned into that kind of uncontrolled thing where at the end one suddenly recognizes that all your masks have fallen.

    "Ha" *sniff*, the Joker gasped, "thank you Dr. Lecter, that was the best laugh that I had for a long time. Very good, very good, switching roles and everything, my time is up, tic tac, that was really a good one, really a good one." Tongue licking.

    "Ah, but you demanded an answer and I think we have a few minutes left, haha, tic tac and everything, until your sweethearts join us...for dinner maybe? Hahaha, for dinner, that was also a good one, dont you think? Who will eat who? Ok, ok, not that good as yours, I still practicing."

    "Sooo, where was I? Ah ja, you see, I consider myself as a healer. You are a healer, at least by profession Dr. L. And sometimes your methods are rather nonconformist. But you heal, well, people, while I want to heal the city. Millions of people, of ther ridiculous little ideas of security. Security! One power outage for 48 hours, and their hearts would freeze, and foes would lay their little homes in ruin, and slay there beloved ones without mercy. But you have interferred with my plans. Or rather, with the bat man, as you call him. You gave him information about me, which nearly finished my small private obsessions. May I ask, why?"

    "You shall have your answers, but first let me see that knife again, the small one with the ivory handle".

    Mr. J. blinked. Then the tongue flinged again. Slowly, Mr. J. pulled the small knife again out of his pocket and showed it to Dr.L.

    "Ah, I thought so".

    "As you have probably recognized", Mr. J. was in good mood again, "it's a cheap repilica. The handle is as much of ivory as the wine is a bordaeux" "I have been betrayed again" he continued, "at that time it was my father who tricked me.

    "Yes" Lecter answered, "We'll come to that in a minute, if I may say, one of your few minutes left."

    "As you pointed out" Dr. L. continued , "I was once a healer. Time and again as practioning psychaiatrist I came across those special type of troubled souls, patients with serious mental disorders. They had big schemes and ideas in their heads, trying to convice the world of their philosophy and their one and only therapy for society, that they had in mind. Usually ther idea of a cure included a lot of bloody work, torturing and murder.

    It was a rather a simple task to classify these monsters into three groups. I labeled them as torturers, killers and those who liked to do both. The torturer were simply sadistics. They like to have power over their victims and every desperate cry of them underlined their domination. The killers noriously wanted to kill mommy and daddy, again and again and again, just to make the dead voices of mommy and daddy in there heads stop. Sometimes it was not daddy but granny or stepdad but all the same. Those who liked to torture and kill where in some sence the interesting ones. They liked to torture, because of their needs and to kill to make the accusing voices stop afterwards.

    In few cases they knew they did wrong and these where the cases were therapy might lead to something. Sometimes they did not torture the flesh but the minds of their prey and liked to see their suffering. The killing afterwards was than an act of grace,was'nt it? Sometimes a healer has to cut out the rotten flesh. And thus, the healers lives and the patient is dead but relieved from their pains.

    But it's all rubbish. The whole philosophy, the long stories, letters and treatises etc. were merely a masquerade for their real lusts. Sometimes they believed in their own philosophy and did not note, that they were only little fuckers. Sometimes the knew that they were simply bastards pretending to do a special kind of good. Sometimes they did not know but had a guess about their true motivation".

    Guess Joker, in which pigeonhole you fit?

    "You are obviously desperately crying for daddy. Your cheap little knife is probaly a gift from him? Or was ist once his and you inheritated it. That's rather not important, but you killed daddy with it, did'nt you? Ah, I thought so. After all, he was the one who made you the Joker, no? He ripped of your face and all that. Probaly not the worst that he did to you. And so you seem to belong to those who liked to kill daddy. And kill and kill and kill.

    But you know what? It's a lie. Your daddy the brutal drunkard, thats the story you tell. But you know what? It's not a very convincing story. It's just a cheap excuse, as cheap as your wine is. In fact, papa was a good man, was'n he? He did not drink. He loved Mommy as well, an was a caring husband and father. Yes I thought so. Your eyes reveal it, Joker. He loved his little boy and braught him a nice expensive knife for his 12th birthday. One with an ivory knife, no immitation. Worth as much as a month salary and with your initials engraved.

    I know you tried to grind the letters , but it's still visible and will always be. Papa loved you, but you dont know what love is. And than one day you got sick of daddy and killed him with that knife.

    Why did you do it, do you know? The answer is very simple: You like to kill things. You like them dead. Papa was a good man, but his son is not. Not much more, no difficult story of a difficult childhood or anything. Just a brilliant boy with a bad habit. You killed the only person in this world, that would ever love you.

    And since than you continued to be Mr. Brilliant. Elaborating your story more and more until you wore masks upon masks. Only one fix point remained, that knife. You shold have gotten rid of it by know but every killer likes his small trophys.

    And now you should open the curtain."

    The Jokers grin had not flinched a second, his eyes fixed on Hannibal Lecters mask. After a everlasting moment he used a theatralic voice: "Tom? Would yould please open the curtain?" From above, light was pouring into the room. Indeed the one part of the ceiling was glas. Behind it, three figures appeared. One tall beautiful women with red hair, her age unfathomable because of her sheer beauty. In front of her a small boy, with dark eyes and dark hair, his eyes fixed on his father below. Clarice and Alexander, both as calm as statues. To the left one of the guardsmen had his eyes fixed on the two, a gun in his hand.

    "Ah, Clarice and young Alex, so nice to have the both of you here! We really had a nice chat, but now Daddy must go to where everyone of us finally has to go!" And the Joker pressed the small knife to Hannibals throat, to open Hannibals main arteria, in front of his wife and his kid.

    But something was not right. The Joker was sure, Clarice would not flinch. After all she was FBI, wasn't she, and further more, she was Hannibal Lecters wife. But why the fuck did that son of a real bitch, Alexander, not wet his panties by now? He just stood there, as unafected as a statue.

    And why...?

    "Dick? Di..ick? Where ist Tom?" Dick loosend his strange gaze from Clarice Starling and looked puzzled at his master. Than Dick fell over like a big liveless sack. A big shadow came into view: Batman.

    "Wah!" The Joker tried to stand up but was held tight by a vicelike grip. Hannibal Lecters hands were free! And he had grapped the Arm with the knife! "Argh!" It took the Joker an enourmous effort to free himself, grapping into his pocket and with a big boom! some light and smoke grenade had exploded. Batman meanwhile had smashed the glas and was descending as fast as gravity allowed it, maybe faster, to follow the now fleeing Joker. Batman dashed after the Joker, who had still some tricks in his pockets. Hannibal heard more sounds of explosion and saw more blinding lights, now becoming more distant.

    "Are you ok, dear?" "Yes, Honey!" "I'm also ok, paps!" Good! Than we should leave this place now."

    Hannibal stepped out of the room an over an unconscious body: Tom. He grapped into Tom's Jacket, found the cheap butterly knife and removed his mask. Than.."Ough, Ough" Tom was groaning two times. Whatever games Tom would like to play in the future, his hands would not be of much use for it, nor for anything else.

    "Dad!" "Yes, son." "You should have killed him!" "You know, son, killing is alway an option but it should' nt be your first option, even on such a creature as Tom here is. And by the way, your mother wouldnt like it. Now hurry!" "Batman will have put up some traps for us!"

    "Yes, Alexander, he surely will. Now the question is, will it be the police? That would be easy" "Or?" "Or will it be his loyal butler Alfred. In that case we should be very careful." "Alfred"? "Yes, Alfred. After all, he is the man to fear. Alfred always was the hidden Variable in this equation and he is of much more danger to us, than the whole of the Gothams City Police Dept."

    "Hannibal" Clarice spoke for the second time, "what you said about the Joker, was it the truth?" A smile. "Ah, truth, masks, masks upon masks. He is very skilled in that game."

    "As much as you are?"

    But this time Clarice Starling recieved only a smile from her Husband.

    Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes. -- Walt Whitman

    If someone says: That's impossible. You should understand it as:
    According to my very limited experience and narrow understanding of reality, that's very unlikely -- Paul Buchheit

    Hallo Zeno-2!

    Hat etwas gedauert, mein Englisch ist auch nicht sonderlich gut, aber die Story hatte mich gepackt!
    Ein sehr schönes verbales Duell, das im Kopf eine Menge an Assoziationen weckt! Schöne Kombi aus Joker (Batman) und Hannibal.
    Gibt es noch mehr davon? Oder habe ich die Geschichten übersehen?

    LG earthy
    Entgegen der um sich greifenden Legendenbildung habe ich mein "altes" Forum nicht freiwillig verlassen, sondern ich wurde von den neuen "Betreibern" vor die Tür gesetzt, um den "echten" Fans den Anblick meiner Geschichten zu ersparen!



      ​​​​​Vielen Dank für dein Feedback. Die Geschichte viel mir beim joggen ein. Prequels oder Sequels sind erstmal nicht geplant.

      Captain Picard spukt ab und zu mal mit einer Geschichte bei mir im Kopf rum. Dann auch auf deutsch.
      Mal gucken, ob ich irgendwann mal dazu komme.

      Viele Grüße

      Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes. -- Walt Whitman

      If someone says: That's impossible. You should understand it as:
      According to my very limited experience and narrow understanding of reality, that's very unlikely -- Paul Buchheit