Chapter Text
Daniel Jonathan Fenton would like it on the record, he did not intend for his day to go this way. He didn't intend for any of his days to go the way they did. Which is why he isn't really surprised with how the day went, just disappointed. So disappointed.
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Danny shuffles forwards, the firm hand between his shoulders shoving him unnecessarily with each step. Danny nearly trips over the chair he's pushed into, his arms twinging as the cuffs are forced at an odd angle. Harsh light filters past the mesh of the potato sack that had been dragged over his head, what uneven shading it provided did little to dim what must be an incredibly well lit room, bright in a way that reminds him of a stage. A thud to his left draws his attention, a sound similar to when he had been pushed down, so Danny assumes that was the other hostage being forced into a chair not to far from him. And crap, Danny needs to get this other guy out of here, he can deal with this himself, but not with someone else here.
Shuffling and manic cackling create a cacophony around him, and Danny has to stop himself from groaning as the speaker drones on, his voice is nasally, harsh and manic with laughter and insanity. Danny drowns him out, certain that whatever this guy was on about, some 'Batsy' who he assumes is actually The Batman, is of no actual relevance to him, and he should instead just focus on not doing anything stupid while he waits for rescue, like using his powers, the ones that had driven him out of Amity, caused him to flee to a place nobody would think to look for him a place the rest of America calls Gotham.
A heavy hand settled on his head gripping the sack, and a few stands of his hair, and tugging it off his head, and Danny was right, it is a stage. He gives a performative panicked struggle, like a good hostage, twisting and turning to discretely look around, eyes darting left to look at the other hostage.
And ancients, what a sight. Not in a physical sense, although the man is definitely a looker, no more in a, what the actual fuck am I looking at, kind of way. Because what? The mans core, at least Danny thinks it's a core, is like scarred remains of a bomb site, it's almost sickening to look at and Danny has to bite back the urge to heave.
When asked to describe what a core looks like Danny usually responded, 'Like a galaxy', vast and deep, twinkling with light and power, of vivid hues and vibrant swirls of ectoplasm, of (as ironic as it is) life and the possibility of it all. But this man? His core is like a void, dull and empty, vivid only in the sickening viridian hue of the sludge that seems to be holding it together. It swirls sluggishly, twisting with a lethargy speaking of starvation so severe it's like the man's core hasn't seen a drop of ectoplasm in years. Why the man even has a core Danny has no idea, the man is very obviously alive, and yet everything about him screams 'I'm dead'. His core, for all that is sluggish, spits and hisses with fire and combustion, an angry green that is reflected in the man's eyes. And aren't they a sight, an almost bioluminescence that reflects his core, and Danny would almost say it's fate for him to have a core that matched his eyes, if not for the fact that no human should have eyes that glow in their wrath, that promise vengeance in the very shade of their iris.
"I'm Danny." Danny isn't sure why he said it, perhaps it's the shock of seeing someone alive who's entire being screams otherwise, perhaps it's just to bring some calmness to the hysteria around them, or perhaps it's to keep himself calm. "Jason", the man, Jason, huffs back, and Danny has to pause and think on why that name was familiar. Oh right, it's what the man that had sacked him had called him, before he had kidnapped him. And Danny almost has to do a double take at the realisation, this is the real Jason? This guy has to have at least 4 inches and 50 pounds on him, he's tall, big in a way most people aren't, muscle and threat and definitely not Danny. What kind of absolute donut mistakes Danny for this guy? Danny supposes the man has similar dark hair, a black that when caught in the light just right one might suppose it has almost a reddish hue to it, and there is definitely a lot of light in this place, the guy has a similar impish beauty to him, if he had been shorter and more wiry then Danny might have understood the misunderstanding, but this is a little ridiculous.
Danny gives the guy a once over again, as if to prove a point in their differences, and has to hold back a wince, because yep, ouch, that's the core he was very much avoiding looking at. Danny forces himself to look away, to look back at whoever it is that seems to be in charge, and...oh ancients that's the Joker, right? It looks like how the pamphlet had described him, green hair, purple suit, crazy makeup? Danny wished the pamphlet had prepared him for how annoying this guy is. The Joker turns his attention towards the two of them and Danny sucks in a breath, because fuck, Danny might be able to get out of this safely, but the other guy can't. "You know, you're actually a really shit clown?" Danny blurts out, not registering what he's saying as he desperately tries to find a way to keep this psycho's attention on him. "Your costume is all wrong, your suit washes you out and that red is not your colour."
The Joker stops, blinking almost owlishly at Danny, then grins even wider. "Well aren't you a little brat?" and Danny really regrets deciding to come out today, he shifts so his arms are more firmly hidden behind his body and ghosts his hands, materialising them to catch the now empty cuffs. "You're not funny, your jokes are lame, like those awful dad jokes that nobody finds amusing and they all just groan at." Danny should really learn to keep his mouth shut when other people are in danger, but he's always been far too self sacrificing, even he knows that. "Not funny? I'm hilarious, kiddo, just you wait, you'll be laughing in no time." The nutjob is surprisingly calm, almost mellow, and it's unsettling, it's like he's focused, aware for the first time since Danny had been dragged in here. He isn't sure if he just made the situation better or worse, but he's really itching towards having made a massive mistake.
"I mean, you're the only one here who's laughing, you can't tell a joke, you can't make us laugh, you can't even hold a person hostage correctly." Danny taunts, lazily stretching out his arms as he stands, hand cuffs dangling from one finger. "Is there anything you can do right?" See, it's here that Danny suspects he makes a mistake. A mistake starting with the Jokers face twisting in rage, with the Joker stomping towards him and the other hostage, who he glances at to make sure is still okay. This momentary distraction occurs right as the Joker invades his space and he takes a step back, once more nauseated by the sight of the other hostages ruined core Danny makes three more subsequent mistakes.
He trips backwards over the chair.
He grabs onto the Joker for stability.
He forgets to regulate his strength.