When Darkness Comes, Run Like Hell

Only, it escalated. Slowly. It began with him asking to misgender me during sex, which is whatever you know? Kinda hot. And he asked first. But then he started asking me to wear panties and nighties whilst I was being fucked… Only he called me a femboy not anything too feminine. Unless his fingers were knuckle deep in my cunt or ass. I mean, he did get more forceful about it which started to get uncomfortable as hell… but not as much as he was until one night when we were curled up in bed after I rimmed him. I was falling asleep when he suddenly asked me something that had obviously been burning in his mind for quite awhile.

“What should I call you, hm?” Tyler grinned, his long thin fingers held my hip, his thumb brushed against that skinny hairless arch that connected it to my thigh.

“I dunno, my name?” I mumbled, I turned away from him in our bed trying to fall back to sleep.

“What’s a good girl like you go by?” Tyler taunted instantly making me tense, I wasn’t in the mood for this.

“Fuck off, Tyler.” I tried to pull away to little success.

“I told you, I’m not a fag. If we fuck, it’s because you’re a girl.” Tyler always knew where to shove the knife.

“If I’m a girl then you’re a girl, asshole.” I didn’t try to hide my anger, and Tyler’s tone instantly made me regret it.

“You shouldn’t talk to Daddy like that,” Tyler growled, he grabbed one of my nipples and twisted it until I cried out.

“Daddy? Seriously? Gross.” I scowled and screwed up my nose, it’s not that I cared if people said that during sex I just didn’t like it. And if I know that, then Tyler knows that.

“What did I just say, Princess.” Tyler twisted my nipple again, harder this time.

“I- Fuck. I’m sorry!” I said between my teeth, exhaling in relief when he let go.

“You should be grated I’m not calling you Sloane, babygirl.”

“I- Fuck. Fine. Just didn’t know you had a fakeboy kink or whatever.”

“Hmm… Well, how about-” Tyler paused, digging his nails into my thigh, his thumb brushing against my brown pubic hair. “Libby.”

“Libby? Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s cute. Girly. Just like you.”

“Oh, fuck y-” I gasped as I felt Tyler make a fist around my pubic hair and tug on it.

“Don’t talk to Daddy like that, little girl,” Tyler growled, a tone that sounded horrifyingly familiar and made my stomach feel like it was screwed into a tight ball like paper.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” I swallowed, meek and desperate for it to stop. When Tyler let go I sighed in relief, until he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and started to tease my vulva. “Tyler, no-“

“Shhh, baby girl,” Tyler whispered before he kissed my temples. “Just let Daddy take care of you.” I curled up and looked away but didn’t stop Tyler as he started to finger me.

“I really hate that, what is this like a weird age play thing?” I tried to sound angry but it came out like a whine.

“No, I’m just your dad and you’re my grown up daughter who is my sex slave, obviously.” I could hear Tyler rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, obviously.” Whilst I couldn’t do anything to stop him shoving a second finger inside, I didn’t have to be happy about it and let my displeasure be known through my sarcastic tone.

“Time for us to break in the new boy, huh?” Conrad grinned as he entered the common room, the fraternity were sat amongst two sofas, with Emmett sitting on the floor. In the middle on the antique mahogany coffee table was the pretty blond Harvey Dent himself. Now instead of wearing some plain, Walmart looking outfit he was completely naked with his belly against the wood. There was an ice bucket of beer cans between his thighs and a bowl of nachos resting on his back between his arms which met at Harvey’s coccyx as his wrists were duct taped together. His ankles were similarly bound to the legs of the table, and next to him on the ground was the frat’s baseball bat just to make sure Harvey didn’t misbehave.

“Uh-huh,” Calvin mumbled as he took another hit from the joint they were sharing. “Just remember to only piss in his mouth and fuck in his ass, remember when Emmett did it the wrong way round to the hillbilly freak - you know, the drop out - and he shat all over the carpet?”

“Oh come on! Not my fault the sister fucker couldn’t handle it,” Emmett sulked as he took another beer bottle, he smacked Harvey’s balls with the bottom in annoyance before sitting back down.

“Has anyone fucked him yet?”

“Me and Dante, and I pissed in his mouth, it’s early yet,” Calvin grinned. He slapped Harvey’s ass before passing the joint to Conrad and pulling apart Harvey’s cheeks showing the pink butt plug. “Good thing we used the gay one because this hole takes cock so well no way he ain’t a fag.”

“Well, I’ve got a raging hard on because Sheila blue-balled me so, it’s my lucky day,” Conrad grinned. The truth was he’d been reluctant to touch her, he always was. They’d only had sex twice in the three years they’d been together, Conrad always had an excuse ready when Sheila was desperate and begging for it.

“Sure, enjoy feeling my splooge around your cock,” Dante taunted, taking the next hit of the joint.

“Better sloppy thirds than sloppy fifteenths like Emmett’s gonna get,” Conrad snorted, he approached Harvey and twisted on the butt plug, causing him to whimper with the movement.

“Make them good pornstar noises this time, alright?” Calvin barked at Harvey. “Seriously, Con, you need to hear this. He’s so good at it. He’s got an ass like a pussy and he takes it like a champ.”

“Mm, I can’t wait,” Conrad pushed the butt plug in deeper chuckling as Harvey let out a whine. “Given how much Dante cum buckets you’re not gonna need any lube, huh?” He pulled out the plug, took out his cock and pushed the head against Harvey’s hole, watching as Dante’s seed dripped onto Conrad’s piss slit.

“Yeah well, with the size of your prick he probably won’t even feel it after the fucking I gave him,” Dante sneered before he took a large gulp of beer. Conrad huffed and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t offended really. Dante’s nine inch hog was bigger than any of the other frat boys, and Conrad knew it gave Dante the impression Conrad’s perfectly good six incher wasn’t much to brag about. Instead, he focused on groping Harvey’s ass, his thumbs pulling open his asshole.

“Come on, white trash, show me what a good fuck hole you are,” Conrad taunted before he slammed his cock into Harvey until Conrad’s scarred balls slapped against Harvey’s ice cold behind. “Oh fuck,” he gasped as his hips gripped Harvey’s hips and he felt his soft insides tighten around him. “Oh man, we might as well have a girl in here.”

“Or maybe you’re just a fag,” Emmett muttered. “Can I have him next?”

“No,” Calvin snapped, he kicked Emmett in the thigh, pretending it wasn’t just him defending his childhood friend. “You’re last. You were just being our coffee table cum jar six months ago.”

The problem was the second surprise.

One. The Vecna from Hawkins, not the one Steve had seen in this world before. Whatever the thing was called, it was here. He saw it the second the trial started, or felt it rather. He heard his voice and smelt that musky rot that filled that fucking house with those intimidating clocks. Steve grabbed Eddie’s wrist and pulled him behind him, desperate to keep him safe. He knew this Eddie would come back, but he couldn’t let him die. Not again. He could stay with him this time, make sure he wasn’t a hero.

Unfortunately, when they were both close to death and in what looked like the final stretch… Eddie pushed Steve out of the way and took the hit. As he watched Eddie be killed again Steve screamed, it seemed that spark of heroism was still there. Steve watched as Eddie ensured One’s attention was fixed entirely on him. Steve should have run then, but he didn’t, he stood and watched. He grabbed Eddie’s hand as he hung there, so at least this time he was with him at the end.

After the Entity took Eddie Steve heard a low laugh, he swallowed and turned around. It seemed the creature hadn’t left.

“Sh-shit,” Steve stammered, he tried to back away as the monstrosity that unfortunately was horribly familiar stood in front of him. He swallowed and tried to regain some composure. “So, took the freaky death God thing a while to bring you here. Seriously, I’ve fought the weird alien thing from well Alien, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, but someone from my actual life? Wait, there is the demogorgon but you’re an actual person. Right? Crazy.”

“I do not… know you,” One said in a disjointed but familiar voice. Steve gave a hollow humourless laugh, that made sense. Eddie was taken before they met Vecna, but when he was still Steve’s. Maybe it was the same here, or maybe not. He couldn’t be sure. Maybe One was just trying to unsettle him.

“Well, I mean, you killed my- you killed Eddie. Remember him?” Steve spluttered, he stumbled as he kept trying to increase the distance between him and One, unsuccessfully as the thing seemed to be able to glide without so much as a momentary hindrance.

“Eddie… ah. Edward.” One paused, but then he gave a small nod of recognition. “The banished… the bats did that. I didn’t touch him. Besides. He is here. I killed him again. You watched him hang.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. I guess,” Steve snapped, wondering if he could pick up a brick from the pile on the ground. Would it even hurt his hunter?

“Wait,” One hissed, his eyes burning and his fried lips sneering. “You were one of the brats who kept getting in my way.”

“Not an inaccurate statement.” Steve tried to make a run for it, seeing if his old basketball trick to get past One would work. It didn’t, he discovered that was a hand that was more like a talon grabbed his arm, burning him at the touch.

15th of December 2004

Bruce knew there was a lot of deaths associated with this town, like a dark cloud was hanging over it. Since Father had brought him here on a work matter, Bruce decided instead of sitting in board meetings as he was supposed to he’d investigate the mountain of death as he’d christened it. It looked fairly mundane he thought as he stood by the base of the mountain, but undeterred he still took photos of the rocks and wrote in his notebook anything that seemed relevant. He thought he was alone, which was why the sudden Minnesotan accent from behind him caused him to jump out of his skin.

“Your Mister Wayne’s kid, aren’t ya?” The stranger asked, Bruce turned around sheepishly to see a boy around his age of thirteen with dirty blond hair. His limbs looked too long for his body and he was still growing into his navy parka. Bruce clung to his camera and avoided looking into the boy’s face.

“Yes. Bruce. Thom. Either is fine,” Bruce shrugged, generally he was the former with everyone but the family. In that case he was the latter but he was still figuring out which he wanted to be. Honestly, he had no idea who the boy was. An embarrassing fact. “I’m sorry, I’ve been avoiding all of the meetings so I- are you…?”

“Harvey. My dad is-” Harvey began, Bruce felt foolish as he realised.

“Mister Dent, right,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning pink.

“What are you doing here?”

“Research. I want to document the mountain.”

“Why?” Harvey seemed curious, but Bruce began to worry that he was trespassing. Maybe Harvey would report back to his father and it would effect the buyout of the mine.

“A school project.” It was a lie, Bruce had no such thing, he simply wanted to document hikes in dangerous areas and figure out the most likely cause of death would be.

“You don’t sound like you’re from Gotham city. Gotham state maybe.”

“Why not?”

“You have longer vowel sounds, but you don’t cut off Gs. I guess that’s a rich people thing.”

“Unfortunately my father did not wish me to speak with the dialect of the place my family has lived for generations.” Bruce’s bitterness was clear, he’d been curious about his city, the one his family supposedly benefitted so much. However he was rarely allowed outside of the mansion grounds and never without an escort. Harvey crouched and began to peer at the rocks Bruce was interested in.

“This here,” Harvey began, picking up a large black rock. “Smart of you to point this out, this comes from the mine but it shouldn’t he here. It’s from one of the carts. It’s coal. So, for it to be here someone would have had to have taken and dropped it.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bruce replied excitedly, him and Harvey shared a secret, small smile.

“I can take you into the mines if you like,” Harvey suggested, there was a clear attempt to seem casual but a hint of nervousness made him stammer slightly. Bruce’s eyes widened, his ears pricked up and he suddenly felt a rush of excitement fill his stomach.

“Are we allowed to go in there?” He asked, not entirely sure he cared what the answer was.

“Technically no, but since my dad’s a mining inspector, I know how to. He’s taken me there a lot.” Harvey ran one hand through his mop of blond hair, Bruce’s eyes were fixed on his lips. “Do you want to go?” Harvey speaking again threw Bruce out of his little daydream.

“I- Sure. Is it safe?”

“If you know what you’re doing.”

“Sure. Let’s go.” When Bruce agreed Harvey’s eyes lit up, Bruce felt a rush from actually being able to go somewhere secret, without anyone watching him… that was enough. That was exactly what he needed.

Tails for No

Present Day

“You know what else I should have done?” Bruce continued into his dictaphone. “The next time I met you when you came into the morgue, I should have helped you. But no, I had some idiotic loyalty to the man who just- who didn’t- ugh.” He paused the recorder and his head hung forward, burying his face in his arms.

26th of July, 2022

“Doctor Wayne?” A far too smooth and even voice asked breaking Bruce from his concentration. He almost dropped his scalpel as his neck snapped upwards, he paused his dictaphone - old and battered but he did have a very specific way of handling things. Standing over him and the body that had been brought in that morning was the Internal Affairs agent everyone had been muttering about. Harvey Dent, or Two Face as Detective Bullock called him. Harvey was the youngest man in his field, and Bruce could hardly believe they were the same age.

“Oh. Erm. Yes. Hello. How can I help you?” Bruce stammered, mentally berating himself, he didn’t have his father’s- Bruce Wayne Senior’s- grace and poise when it came to such things. He hid behind his fringe as he placed the tools he’d been using neatly down next to the cadaver.

“I was hoping we could talk about some members of the GCPD,” Harvey asked, charm oozing from his every pore. Bruce swallowed, secretly he actually did support what Harvey was doing. However, he was fresh out of medical school himself and wasn’t exactly welcome in the building. It wasn’t as if his father’s connections would help.

“I- Yes. Of course.” Bruce swallowed, he bit his lip before adding. “I’ve not worked here long, so I don’t know if I can be of use.” He knew he was speaking too quickly and being defensive, but he didn’t know how to approach this situation.

“Of course but I hear you’ve known Detective James Gordon for a while now, is that right?” Harvey’s question was needless, they both knew the answer. Any lie Bruce told would simply make him look suspicious.

“I- Well, he is the only one who’s keep the case into the death of my aunt and uncle open,” Bruce mumbled, his cheeks burning red. “He seems to care about finding the killer. And I owe him everything for that.”

“So you’d do anything for him?”

“I- I don’t know-”

“Even if he asked for something you didn’t want to give?”

“What do you- what are you talking about?”

“Bruce,” Harvey began, oddly familiar. “Look, I know this is difficult to talk about but—

Present day

Bruce slammed the stop button on the dictaphone as his head fell into his hands. He swallowed, tears falling down his face as the memory filled his mind and caused his temples to ache.

“I can’t do this. I can’t,” Bruce muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes with the heals of his palms. “Fuck.” He pressed record again. “I don’t need to reiterate the whole story, it’s obvious. If I’d have given evidence Harvey would have been able to completely reform the entire department. If I hadn’t frozen when Harvey pushed and pressed me about mine and Gordon’s history… Fuck. I’m sorry, Harvey. I’m so sorry.”

HTeaaidlss ffoorr YNeos

Bruce kept the dictaphone on paused and resting on the table for quite some time, he stared at it, terrified to continue. Eventually he picked it up, swallowed and hit record.

“It’s… it’s strange doing this. As if you’re dead,” Bruce said between heavy breaths. “Because you’re not. You’re still there, half of you anyway. But you’ve- it isn’t just you now. And I can’t… I can’t see you without- Fuck.” He exhaled and ran a hand through his black hair. “I need to tell that story, don’t I? That’s the one that matters.”

Three weeks ago

“Doctor Wayne,” Harvey began, he was always at home in the court room. He had a confidence Bruce rarely saw anywhere else, it was so enthralling watching Harvey pace up and down, easy to hang on his every word. It was almost enough for Bruce to forget why he was there. He was a witness, the only one who could actually call out a cover up by the Falcone crime family. “I notice that despite being the one who did the autopsy for the victim you were not brought forward as a witness.”

“No, I was not,” Bruce said firmly, trying to pretend it was just another trial, not one with a man who’s cock had been hitting the back of the forensic pathologist’s throat the night before.

“Do you know why?” Harvey asked, throwing a glance at Falcone’s favourite hitman who stared at Bruce with two intense eyes. He wasn’t intimidated, Harvey was there. He could protect him, so Bruce thought, anyway.

“Because I refused to state that the victim’s death was suicide,” he said firmly, his head filling with the image of the young man who laid on his table. The boy who’d been viciously beaten and garrotted.

“And if I may bring the Jury’s attention to Doctor Wayne’s report on page fifty six item 32b, your honour,” Harvey continued, picking up the file on the prosecution’s desk, he began flicking through the selection of evidence. “In this, Doctor Wayne you declare the cause of death to be head trauma and strangulation, not hanging?”

“That is correct.”

“Why come to that conclusion specifically? What makes you think it wasn’t self inflicted?”

“The first clue is that the victim was unconscious when the strangulation occurred,” Bruce began, his report had one clear answer and he kept telling himself he needed to make sure that story was told. For the victim if for nothing else. The scarring on the neck suggested that the wire used had been pulled downwards and didn’t cause the clean break a noose or similar would have done. This, as well as his many physical injuries such as a fractured skull, and a crushed rib cage, suggested he was garrotted until subdued, beaten unconscious, and then strangled until dead.”

“In your professional opinion, how likely is it that the victim was simply committing suicide after being in a vicious fight?” Harvey was very careful about repeating the defence’s story, not mocking or twisting, simply stating facts.

“Well, given that we know that he was unconscious during the act itself, it seems almost impossible to-“

“Objection your honour,” the defence attorney cried out, when everyone turned towards the man there was a deafening gunshot that rang through the room. Bruce didn’t even get a look into the Defence attorney’s face. All he saw was two bodies slumped forward, spilling out blood, fragments of bone, and chunks of brain onto the table. Stood in the lawyer’s place was a grinning, maniacal young man with ragged green hair - with copper colour roots. He had brutal scars spreading from his lips and cutting into his cheeks. He was dressed in a too large purple dress shirt, half tucked into green trousers with suspenders that didn’t look like they were even made of fabric but something more biological.

Everyone here knew who he was.

The Joker did not need an introduction.

“How many lawyers does it take to change a light bulb?” The monster asked, giggling as he strutted towards Doctor Wayne and Harvey Dent. “However many walk out of this courtroom alive.”

“Security, get him out of here,” the judge demanded, banging her gavel, the Joker simply giggled and strutted forward, approaching Harvey and staring at Bruce as if the man knew precisely what their relationship was.

“Tell me, Harvey, Gotham’s White Knight,” the Joker asked, wrapping one arm around Harvey’s shoulders and holding him down as he struggled. “If I tell you how I got my scars will you tell me how you got yours?”

“What sca-” Harvey interrupted himself with a guttural, twisted yell. Bruce stared, frozen to the docket in horror as he saw a container of acid be thrown in Harvey’s handsome face. Bruce felt his body freeze as the green liquid clung to Harvey’s skin, causing it to sizzle and hiss. The horrific stench of melting skin filled the room, as Bruce forced himself to look as Harvey yelled and screamed, his hands clawing as his skin thawed from his—

Present Day

“No. No. That’s it. Thats the end. There we have it,” Bruce swallowed, his chest heaving like he’d just come out of an intense cardio session at the gym. When he spoke it was a rambling, mangled stream of consciousness, he was barely aware of what he was saying. He didn’t even consider that he’d not stopped recording.

“The moment I watched your career be… destroyed. Alongside your face. I remember the sour, rotting smell. The sound of bubbling skin mixing with the way you cried.” Bruce began to sob, his tears falling on the dictaphone that whirred beneath him. “And how no one came to help you for a second. Everyone was too scared to stand up to the joker, too scared to do anything. I don’t know if I helped or if I made things worse. Maybe I should have taken Joker down, maybe I should have ensured his arrest him rather than jumping into saving you. I don’t know if you meant it when you said you’d rather die than become this… I don’t know if you’re even still you. But as much as it hurts to see you this way, I’m glad you’re still breathing. That I get to look at one of your eyes. Maybe apart of me is glad I get to see both of your faces now, I just wish it didn’t happen like this.”

Bruce swallowed, he left the tape recording silence for a moment before he picked the dictaphone up and held it to his lips.