Worst Fear - a Joker Story
Meeoko
Summary : Ever wondered what happened to The Joker before he came to Gotham City? Sometimes, your fears can catch up with you. Short one-shot fic. Rated M for violence, gore and language.
Author's Note's : M'kay. I know I'm supposed to be working on my Avatar fic, but I couldn't get this out of my head. It was just too much fun! The Joker is the most unbelievably awesome, complex character you could ever hope to write about and I only hope that here, I have done him justice.
This is a tribute to you, Heath Ledger, for your wonderful, inspiring acting.
May you rest in peace.
Crunch!
The brass knuckles connected with his face, a satisfying crack following it. The white make-up scraped over the bloodstained gold and Big Marty smiled to himself. That's why people feared him in this neighbourhood feared him. He wasn't afraid to take what he wanted and he would do it by any means necessary. Better yet – he loved his job.
"Now tell me," Big Marty smirked, cradling his knuckles excitedly. "where'd ya stash the money? And ya better be quick about it, clown. I ain't got all day."
Big Marty raised an ear, hoping to hear the beautiful sound of begging that usually accompanied his 'discussions'. The wonderful, intoxicating sound of hysterical sobbing, gasping and wheezing. Begging for mercy and praising his glory.
He wasn't the top dog in Starholm City for no reason!
But his head snapped up as instead, he heard the slow grumbling build of laughter. Throaty, pained, insane laughter.
The goddamn clown was laughing at him!
"Hey, hey." the clown laughed, his jaw hanging at a funny angle. "Ya mind hitting me on the other side? This kinda hurts. Suppose you'd better even it out. Or you could just smack it back into place."
Big Marty looked incredulous. What the hell did he just say?
So, the clown wasn't a talker, eh? Well, he'd soon beat it out of him. Despite his words, Big Marty did have all night and he would enjoy every second of beating this 'Joker' to a bloody pulp!
Scowling furiously, Big Marty arched his fist backwards, bringing it down with as much force as he could muster into The Joker's face. The clowns head shot backwards, but snapped right back again, as if he had barely felt a scratch!
What was he – made of metal, or something?
"Ah, thanks, Big Guy." The Joker moved his jaw about, a satisfying crunch indicating that his jaw had been popped back into place. "That was really starting to ache."
Big Marty felt a vein bulging in his neck. What the hell was with this freak? There was something weird about him. What kind of self-respecting criminal wore make-up to a bank heist? The freakish, poncey kind!
And Big Marty wasn't in the mood to deal with smoke and mirrors.
"Why you son-of-a bitch." Big Marty growled, bringing his face as close to the clown's as he dared. "You're gonna tell me where my goddamn money is, or I'm gonna just kick the crap outta you til you'll need more than masks and face paint to cover up! How's that sound, funny man?"
The Joker didn't seem to be listening. He looked over to the side, chewing something in his mouth.
"You know, there's this old saying. That the people we love take away the mask we fear we can't live without, but know we can't live within." he looked up at Big Marty. "I don't really get it, myself. Not much of a philosopher. But I always thought it sounded better the other way around. The mask tends to take away the people we love."
Marty frowned. What the hell was he talking about?
"At least that's my opinion." The Joker continued, licking at his lips. "But then again, love hasn't really got a place for people like us these days. Ya know the drill – they get burnt, or stabbed, or shot, or mauled. It all gets a bit tiring after a while."
Marty felt wary.
He walked around the chair, wanting to avoid The Joker's gaze for a moment. His words were beginning to unnerve Marty a little. In all his years in organised crime, working his way up to the top, starting as a hired goon – he'd never encountered anything like this before.
It was like the guy didn't have any rules.
"And by the way," The Joker licked his lips, turning his head back to look at Marty. "I don't wear a mask. Too blasé. The man who has something to hide has everything to lose. That's why I like to keep things...out in the open, shall we say?"
With a swift kick to the back of The Joker's cuffed hands, Marty sent the chair flying. He smiled as The Joker's face skidded into the floor with a satisfying crunch.
"I ain't got time for games and riddles, ya filthy clown!"
Marty knew he wouldn't stay down – but it still made him feel safer to let the clown know that his place was on the floor. With the rats.
You had to let these people know who was boss.
Sure, he was handcuffed to the chair – he wasn't going anywhere – but despite his bravado and brute strength, The Joker still managed to scare the absolute crap out of Big Marty.
He had wanted the job himself.
Usually, he would have called upon a lower hand to begin the interrogation, but there was something about this guy. Something that Big Marty felt had to be dealt with personally.
The Joker coughed from his place on the floor, his face stuck firmly into the dirt. A small chuckle blew away the dust from his mouth and stuck to the face paint, dirtying it to a dull grey.
"Now....that wasn't very nice."
Marty grunted in exasperation and rolled his eyes. For a moment, he placed his foot on the back of the chair, making sure to grind the toe of his polished boots into The Joker's wrists. The metal chair groaned under the weight.
Marty loved that sound!
"I think you should start talking, circus freak." Marty lowered his voice slightly. "Things can only get so much worse and I'm not a patient man."
Another chuckle skipped across the concrete floor as the metal chair shook with The Joker's laughter. It was beginning to grate on Marty's nerves.
Letting out an aggravated breath, Marty grabbed the back of the chair and hauled backwards, bringing the clown back up with it. His arms stuck out at a funny angle and Marty smiled at the discomfort the man must be feeling.
Surely he was getting to him by now!
For a moment, The Joker just sat there, licking his lips as the dust settled. He cocked his head to one side, arching his back and bringing his shoulders forward. There was another sickening crunch as another bone was roughly set back into place.
Marty scowled as the clown let out a sigh.
"You know," he breathed "I'm running out of time and you're running out of bones to break, Big Man."
Marty held still, clenching his fist around the golden knuckle-duster.
Alright, so maybe he wasn't making as much progress as he first thought.
The Joker took in another breath and let it out through his bleeding lips. He looked around the empty concrete bunker, almost as if he was bored!
"Ya know," The Joker spoke, licking his lips. "there's a place in a man's head devoted entirely to fear. I think I turned mine off a couple'a years ago. Or maybe I just wasn't born with it – I don't know."
Big Marty was stunned. Was this guy for real? He'd been beating the hell out of him for almost two and a half hours now and still the crazy son of a bitch just fed him riddles and metaphors!
"Anyway," The Joker continued, chewing the insides of his mouth "I'm not important right now. What I want to know, Mr, uh, Marty, was it?"
Big Marty clenched his teeth together. The goddamn punk didn't even have the stones to learn his name!
"What I wanna know is – what is your fear?" The Joker met his eyes, suddenly serious. "I'm not talkin' spiders or heights, or any'a that crap. No - I'm talking deeper than that. The darker, smaller part'a your little brain. What's in there, d'ya think?"
Big Marty lunged forward, bringing his fists down on the clown again and again. What the clown had said was too freakin' weird for his taste. He just wanted to get this done as quickly as possible, and get his 30 million back.
"Is it your wife?" The Joker called under his punches. "Your little girl?
Marty froze in mid punch.
His daughter? Mary-Anne? What dirt did the clown have on him?
No, he shook his head. They'd be fine. They were hauled up in a safe house.
There was no way they could get involved in this! The clown was bluffing!
"Is it, uh...your money?" The Joker shook his bloody head. "No, no, it couldn't be that. See, most criminals out there are all about the money. But you, no, I can see that you're no materialist. You had to work your way up, but you know there's more important things out there."
Marty reared up with a booted foot and belted the clown in the stomach. He gasped, but it soon turned to the same infuriating laughter that chilled Big Marty's blood.
"Hehe, no? Not money. Your boys, right? You're the kinda guy who worries about loyalty. Am I right?"
Marty was getting desperate now. He didn't like the clown's tone.
Why wouldn't he stop laughing! It was like some sick sort of pantomime and Marty had the front row seat. He wiped the sweat away from his brow with podgy fingers, spitting onto the warehouse floor as he did so.
"Shut it, ya goddamn freak!" Marty raged, determined to recover his lost ground. "Tell me where my money is, or I'm gonna add a few more scars to that face'a yours!"
The Joker rolled his eyes, making a popping sound with his bleeding lips. Marty felt himself beginning to burn up inside.
"No offence," The Joker pouted his lips, nodding his head to the sides like a twitching animal. "but you seem like the kinda guy who tells lies quite a lot. I mean, don't get me wrong – I just met you. This is no judgement from me, just an observation. But again, no offence intended, I gotta say – I've screwed girls scarier than you."
He threw his head back, bursting into hysterical laughter. The chair he was held to rocked back as he swayed, braying his head back and forth as he laughed. Marty's eyes went wide and he finally felt the vein in his neck reaching the surface.
His fists tightened over the skin of his hands.
"I mean, seriously!" The Joker howled. "The – the big gold knuckles! You've gotta be compensating for something, right?"
A growl rose in Marty's throat and he reached for the knife in his belt.
Raising it above his head with a furious cry, he plunged the knife into the clown's leg as hard as he could. Blood spurt out as the knife connected with ligaments and slowly dripped down the man's leg as The Joker's laughter was abruptly cut off.
Marty smiled so that he showed only his teeth. It was an animal grin. He would show this psycho who was boss! He wasn't going to let some goddamn circus freak psych him out over nothing!
What was he going to do? He had nowhere to go!
The Joker didn't laugh anymore.
One side of his mouth twitched as the oozing blood trickled down his leg and he shut his eyes, letting out a slow breath through his nose. But that was it.
No screaming, no begging or pleading as Big Marty was used to. Nothing.
A small smile crept over The Joker's face and he opened his eyes, looking up at Marty with something that he didn't expect. He sighed, almost happily and licked at his lips.
What was that on his face?
Excitement? Pleasure? Euphoria?
"Would you mind maybe doing that again, a little bit more to the left?" he asked. "I've got a really bad itch."
Something crept through Marty like a slow-spreading poison. It shot up his spine and clenched around his heart and his gut with icy fingers. This guy wasn't just some small-town nut. This guy was something else entirely. Something Marty didn't like.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, you goddamn psycho?!" Marty reached out, punching the clown full in the face again. "Just give me my money and I might let you leave with your fingers!!"
Reaching down to the knife embedded in the clown's thigh, Marty grabbed the handle and twisted. The splintering, gurgling sound of muscle tissue ripping and tearing echoed throughout the empty warehouse.
"You wanna know whose boss 'round here, funny man?" Marty shouted in the man's ear. "Well why don't you ask my little friend here, huh?"
The Joker's expression didn't change.
Taking in a few haggard breaths, the smile continued to grow as the blade twisted deeper and deeper into the flesh. He chewed on the inside of his mouth thoughtfully, squinting his eyes every so often.
He licked at his lips again and Marty was really beginning to get sick of the stupid little habit!
"Ooh yeah." The Joker sighed, chuckling. "That's the spot. Right there."
Marty pulled apart like a shot, kicking a heavy boot into the clown's bloodied leg.
This was too much! Screw the fuckin' money! He wanted out! This guy was just a big joke! It was scaring the crap out of him!
He was just about to leave and send for one of his handy-men, when the laughter stopped.
"Okay, okay! I'll tell you! Jeez, no need to leave so soon."
Finally! Marty thought to himself, more than a little relieved. The clown's ready to start talking!
He turned back to The Joker, who was jerking his head, as if asking him to come towards him. Warily, Marty bent down lower towards the man. The smell of stale sweat and face paint made him want to gag.
"Come on, closer, will ya?" The Joker scoffed. "Jesus, I don't bite!"
Unwillingly, Marty got a little closer. He was the most feared man in Starholm City, with the strength and reputation to make the Chief of Police shiver in his polished boots, but he was also incredibly stupid.
When Marty was close enough, the crazed clown whispered in his ear, looking around guardedly, as if somebody was listening in.
"You know, I just figured out what it was."
Marty didn't reply, too intent on avoiding the clown's eyes. The Joker continued.
"You know, that question I asked you earlier. I just got it! You're dirty little fear. See, you're worried about security, aren't you? How much longer you're going to be able to sleep next'a that pretty little wif'a yours, or if you're gonna live long enough to see your little girl grow up. Ooh! Or if your pretty little wife is gonna find out about all those half-dead girls in the slave trade you like to keep on the side?"
Marty scowled. The fuckin clown better not be baiting him!
"But seriously now," The Joker continued, shrugging his shoulders. "your fear just so happens to be one that I'm very good at, well....manipulating. It's a talent. Started off as a hobby, but as I always say – if you're good at something, never do it for free."
Marty pulled back. Screw this! He wasn't getting anything outta this freak!
"And, ya know, the funny thing is...." The Joker chewed the inside of his mouth, darting his tongue out to lick at his lips. "Your worst fear will be realised in about, oh say, fifteen seconds."
For a moment, there was nothing but pure silence. It echoed off the cool concrete walls and seemed to bounce back ten fold. Marty seemed to remember something his father had told him once.
The silence was deafening.
He shook his head. Marty began to walk back towards the clown.
"Think you can touch me, you sick son of a-"
Ssth!
A flash of purple.
The skidding of metal chair legs across the floor.
A jolt.
Marty stopped dead. A stifled gasp escaped his lips as his eyes readjusted. He looked down.
There. In his stomach.
Through clouded eyes, Marty raised a hand to the wound, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the knife. It must have been almost eight inches long! How was that possible?
"I wouldn't do that." The Joker's sing song voice echoed in his ear. "Stomach acid really does stain quite badly. And we wouldn't want to ruin that nice suit of yours now, would we?"
Marty could barely turn his head to look at the man behind him. He had been playing him all along. The sick bastard had sat there and let him kick the crap out of him just for kicks! And now...
"You...you -"
His vision was blurring.
Now he could feel it. The pain. It was coming.
Slowly at first, like indigestion. But as the contents of his stomach continued to seep out of the wound and mix with the sticky red blood, the pain began to jab and slice at him like a thousand more white-hot knives.
He'd been stabbed before countless times. But there were rules! Nobody would ever let another man die this way!
"H-how-"
A hand, slick with his own blood raised up and patted him on the head like a child. The Joker moved to stand in front of him, with a pleasant smile on his face. Green and purple began to blur together as Marty began to sway.
How had he gotten free? How long had he been toying with him?
"There there." the clown smirked at his bewildered expression. "It isn't your fault. I know - I'm the best -, but who could expect you to know that? It's a little unfair really, if you think about it."
The bloodied hand rose again to pat him on the cheek as Marty began to convulse with pain. He doubled over, the echo of metal clattering as the knife fell from his hand onto the floor.
"Does it make you feel a little empty inside?" The Joker's voice slinked past his ears like snakes. "To realise that all of your little plans and your guns and your walls were all for nothing? Does it feel like there was something you should have done? Or somebody you shouldn't have trusted?"
Pain exploded inside Marty as he heard the clown's words. He looked down at the wound, the acid pain slowly oozing into the tender outside flesh.
"You see," The Joker continued, tutting. "I'm not like other people. Well, apart from the obvious killing and stealing, I'm not like other people. See – I'm an opportunist. I don't plan for the future. I don't like to think of things inside boxes or walls or cages. That's why I don't have a fear."
He expanded his arms, gesturing at himself. He looked almost drunk from the way he moved.
"And I'm fine, see? Look where fear has gotten you." he brought his hands behind his back, stretching. "Ya know Marty - for a big guy, I expected more of a fight. I'm just a little disappointed."
Marty clenched his free fist, looking up at the clown. Through the pain slowly tearing at him, he tried to force his face into a snarl. This psycho was burning him from the inside out and he was calling him a pussy?
"Well," The Joker drawled lazily. "I guess now that I've cleared out your funds, taken out the Starholm PD, burnt a couple'a buildings and hung the mayor, I'd say it's time to move on. There's only so many people you can mutilate and things you can burn before you run out of things to do."
Marty couldn't breathe.
His hand bunched into a weak fist around the wound as his insides began to light on fire, each fibre and tissue exploding in flames like a trail of gasoline. How had things changed? How had he become the prey?
The Joker continued, as if he was noting down a shopping list. Something shiny glinted in his hand as he waved it backwards and forwards nonchalantly.
"Ya know what's just so....boring about this city?" he sighed. "No decision. No anonymity. No spontaneity. People in this city are like.....sheep. All you have to do is put in one wolf and the flock scurries wherever I want them to go. Mediocrity gets so tedious after a while."
The Joker knelt in front of him, though the bulky man could barely concentrate on his face.
"Now, there's this place I've heard of. Seem's like a good place to start a'fresh. Build a repertoire, ruffle some feathers. Gotham City, I think it was. Anyway, I've been hearing all sorts'a stuff about this guy. Some vigilante in a cape, goes around knocking off guys like us in the dark."
Marty almost spat.
Guys like us?
His eyes drifted to the safe grey of the concrete floor. A swift slap to the face didn't even raise his attention. He couldn't hold it in any longer!
Big Marty began to scream. Louder and longer than he ever had in his life.
A sharp hand cut him off, the nails biting into the skin on his cheeks.
He clamped his teeth together, unable to stop screaming. The Joker rolled his eyes.
"Hey, hey, hey! Shush now. Let's not be over-dramatic."
The clown barely even seemed conscious of his own wound, which was slowly seeping blood onto the floor to mix in with Marty's own foul-coloured blood. It was like he didn't even realise it was there!
What was this guy? The masochistic bastard was going to kill him from the inside out and laugh the entire way! He last thing he was ever going to hear was that insane laughter!
"Quiet now. There's a good boy.." The Joker licked his lips. "Screaming will get you nowhere. And I always hated the screamers. Children screaming, old ladies screaming – sure. But on a grown man, especially one of your stature. Well, you can see what I'm getting at. We don't want your men thinking you died like a little girl now, do we?"
Big Marty began to shake.
Convulsions tore at his body as blood flowed free and fast from the wound, the scorching acid from inside ripping and tearing at the open skin and pooling inside his guts. He continued to scream into the sweaty, bloodied hand clamped over his mouth.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it was dangerous to play with knives?"
Marty saw black spots dancing in front of him as his head was forced forwards, closer to the madman in front of him. Something cold dug into the skin under his jaw.
"Speaking of which," The Joker smiled. "You wanna know how I got these scars?"