Alright, here's the first chapter of my series. So far, the beginning will give some background on Josephine before heading toward her relationship with Jonathan. Be patient my dears, all will reveal itself.
Disclaimer: I own no DC characters. The only characters I own are Josephine and Jack.
She felt herself gliding over the street, legs straddling the pavement in a rapid tempo. The speed needed to escape her foes was one that took some time to work up. It was not that she wasn't use to running. No. Everyday was a new workout whether by choice, job, or involuntary exercise. There was always time for running in her schedule.
Josephine did not expect any different from anybody else in her situation. She didn't have a lot of association with the outside society other than what she saw while roaming the streets in disguise or peering at the skeptical doctors from behind bars. There was plenty to learn.
Josephine had a dark gift. She was the unnatural daughter of an evil man. One day, she was assured that she would be the sole heir of that man. That sole opportunity came with a price. Being the daughter of the Clown Prince of Crime came with a list of derogatory crimes against her and people who regarded her as the bane of Gotham's Underworld. Lower criminals slunk away into the shadows when she was near. Henchmen took up with the Mafia for protection. Families of Joker's victims hired out assassins and the Mafia to get rid of her. They misunderstood her. By a long shot.
The petty criminals didn't understand. The Rouges Gallery embraced her. They were her family. They protected her. She was as much their child as the biological parents. They taught her everything. She could defend herself as well as the League of Shadows. Her knowledge grew under their tutelage and she had an appetite for books and blood. Her manners could be polite or savage. Lofty or equal. She considered few her equal and never was it a henchman or lower drooling inmate at the infamous Arkham Asylum. She was not to be reckoned with, ever. Even in her younger years she was something of a spitfire. Her nature had little changed in the years that had passed.
There were times. When she was younger, there was a time when she was taken from her home. Her parents went to Arkham, but she went to another form of prison. A couple from Gotham's elite decided to take her in as a foster child. The doctors were pleased, but she knew the truth. Her assumption was realized when they arrived at their manor. She found herself tormented, locked in a closet, alone. They wouldn't allow her any special privileges they had promised the doctors. They said that as long as she behaved herself and had no mad wanderings or tantrums, that they would feed and clothe her as their own child. This sham didn't pass her young senses. The wife would always stare at her as if she were a creature, an unnatural being born from an unholy union, a monster from a lagoon. She hated her. More than that, she had no feeling toward the child.
Josephine stayed with them for a couple of weeks. She repressed those urges, the gorging, bloody thirsting itches to claw and kill her benefactors, should they be called that at all. She played the role of a sweet child, an innocent, a normal girl. She behaved in the most satisfied and applicable manner with the dolls they gave to her.
She despised it the full allotment.
Josephine hummed to herself. Perhaps it was a trifle too loud, because Mr. Howard (her benefactor), marched upstairs, took hold of her hair, which was long at the time, hating scissors, and threw her into the closet. Content with his punishment, Mr. Howard removed him from the house and him and his wife went out to dinner.
Unbeknownst to them, Josephine knew a great deal about escapes. At the ripe age of six, her cunning methods of escapes were well beyond a magician's way to trick death. She found a screw driver and cut away at the lock in the doorknob until it sprung open. She crawled out quietly to avoid the servants. On hands and knees, she waded into her room where she hid a steak knife and a lighter. She untwisted the doll's head to find the mechanical device and divulged the slender silver dagger from a large teddy bear rewarded to her for not screaming and bleeding all over Mrs. Howard's nice hardwood floors when Mr. Howard had taken off his belt and beat her until she saw stars.
She clutched the cool metal with a fair skinned unblemished hand. A slim crimson stripe appeared when she removed her little palm from its unforgiving edge. Her eyes danced at the injured hand. Pounding began in her ears, her breath caught, and a thin layer of sweat sheathed her fair pearl skin. Unholy daydreams swam around her little mad mind. The Howard's had no time left. Josephine held up the young wound and ran her tongue along the gored place. The metallic taste was swished around the tiny baby teeth, staining them copper.
Tire squeals broke the deadly silent nursery. The motor purred as it lunged into the parking garage beside the manor house. The flies entered the web. Even larger flies cannot escape the strong binding web of a petite spider.
Josephine's head spun round as the loud clang of the double doors downstairs shut abruptly. Green eyes flickered in all directions, torrent thoughts collecting together. Her little mad brain seized the focus and chance. Standing up with her utensils, the little warrior walked toward the door. Her injured palm smacked the pearl door to the nursery. Blood violated the surface. Her hand slid down lowly until it was back at her side. She passed the now present crimson stripe on her room.
As she exited her room, she strolled dazed, pressing her bare feet onto the wood. Her weight shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, making her appear to be wobbling unsteadily. To her left were the stair guards that ran along the walkway until the end of the upstairs hallway where the stairway opening stood off to the left. She continued her walk until she reached the opening. She stood in her white lace dress at the top. Waiting. The flies will come.
Footsteps echoed about until a maid walked around the corner downstairs to go up. She pitter pattered up the flight, her gaze remaining on the white stairway. She did not raise her head until seven steps from the top. She looked inquisitively at the girl.
"Hello, what are you doing out here? I though Master Howard put you away-" Her plain brown eyes widened as she saw the child remove a knife from behind. She backed down a step and turned to flee. "Master! She's got a-"
The knife was swift and silent as Josephine lunged over the last few steps and ripped into her maid's uniform. The instrument impaled her kidney, blood pouring out as fast as the metal object had entered. The woman did not scream but exhaled a groan that echoed down the hallways. Her shoulders wobbled back and forth, her head hanging like she were to vomit. Josephine hung back at the top of the stairs, avidly gazing at her victim.
A few seconds later, the maid spat up blood. By this time, the Howards both collected at the bottom of the staircase. Their faces were ablaze in horror at the sight of their help, powerlessly spewing blood onto the white marble staircase.
"Should we call the ambulance?" asked Mrs. Howard. She was too terrified to look to her husband. HE gulped loudly. His temper unable to ignite at seeing the helpless human being before him crumble to the floor.
"No, I don't think she needs it now."
Mrs. Howard made a muffled cry or gasp and covered her mouth as the fresh bloody corpse rolled down the stairs, plopping splashes of blood onto each step. At last the maid arrived at the tiled bottom floor. Her face was visible, the eyes still wide with shock. The reflection of the child was still evident in her murky irises.
Mr. Howard tossed his head back at Josephine, who stood aloof at the top. "Demon child!" he screamed. "The police will be on their way! You little bitch!"
Josephine stood unmoving. His words were lost to the wind as she was not listening to him at all. Her thoughts were muddles in a pool of collective madness that brewed into a fine recipe of disaster for her benefactors below. They did not realize it yet but before the police arrived, she would have turned their running, soulful bodies into nothing but cold, bloodless corpses. They would join their maid in happy after life. She smiled at the thought. What a happy thought.
"This little light of mine,
I'm going to let it shine…"
In the present, she was constantly scanning her area for a perfect hiding place for either her or for the future corpses from the men following her. It was going to be one of those mornings.
She led them down an alleyway. That was the easy part. No doubt they were told by their boss, whether Mafia or another outsider, that they must follow her to no end. She was not surprised. It only made the day go by a little faster.
There was a cluster of damaged goods boxes lying in her wake. They were piled high above her height. It was an easy fix. She jumped, foot landing on one box and springing to a higher level, continuing the effort until she reached the pinnacle, then subsequently sliding down on the either side. A barbwire fence greeted her there. She repeated the same offense and managed to prance over the sharpened edges without so much as a scratch.
There she would wait for her prey.
Sure enough the men all sweaty and angry from the chase shoved the boxes aside, their faces shiny and beaded with sweat. Josephine cracked a grin at them.
Daddy would be pleased today.