TC Stark: Alright, I must be crazy to be taking on three projects at once. But, I can't help it. I love writing and thinking up different story lines, so yea. I will say first and foremost that my Bane story and my Lawless story come first. This right now is an experiment. I have written every villain in the Nolan universe, except the Joker. I have always been afraid of writing him. He's so complex and hard to pin that I feel anything I write will not be accurate. This is my attempt to capture the Joker. Please let me know how you guys feel. I am looking to make this a dark story, so beware. Also, I clicked "romance", because of the sexual content, but this is in no way fluff. Anyway, let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own anyone in the DC universe. I own nothing except my OC and my ideas. Anything else I cannot take credit for. Nolan is a genius and Heath Ledger is a genius, they will take all the credit for creating the most memorable Joker ever. Also, the inspiration for the tital of this story comes from "No Excuses" by Alice in Chains.
Chapter One
Gotham was in a state of panic.
In a matter of forty-eight hours, everything seemed to have gotten worse. Harvey Dent, the city's shining White Knight; was slain by the man they all thought would protect them. The Batman. As quickly as he had proven himself to be a hero, he had showed his true colors. Just like every other lowly criminal, he was a killer. Threatened by the idea of having a bright figure take his place, the Caped Crusader made sure Gotham would never feel relief. They would never have another man like Dent and it was all the Batman's fault.
And probably more alarming, the Joker had escaped from Arkham. The people of Gotham were only able to breathe easily for a short period of time, before the news was discovered. Commissioner Gordon would have liked to keep this frightening fact a secret for a little longer, but somehow it had leaked out. Now the people of Gotham, who were already frightened from almost being blown up; were thrown back into chaos. The Joker was free.
Mayor Garcia had assured the citizens of Gotham that they were going to find the Joker. That everyone should calm down and go about their daily routines. Go back to work, school, and life. He was determined to not let the clown ruin his people anymore. They would not give in and play his little games.
But, the public knew better. The more they ignored the Joker, the grander his games became. The bigger the explosions. More would be at stake. Almost every boss, except those who worked at hospitals or the police force; sent their employees home. Even the buses wouldn't run all night, just late enough to make sure everyone was home.
The Joker didn't like that. Not one bit. The people of Gotham were such a bore. They were also insulting. How dare they think that he was that predictable. That if everyone was home that no harm would come to them. Oh, he would show them. Yes, yes. He would teach the people a lesson. He would make them realize the error of their ways.
It wasn't hard to escape from Arkham Asylum. Not hard at all. After all, they didn't have the means to hold someone like him. So unprepared. Insulting really. They should have prepared. Given him a grand entrance and a room worthy of him. Or at least a proper straight jacket. It was as if they hadn't put any thought in to it at all. Tsk tsk.
Tonight, he would show Gotham that as long as he was around, there would be no time to rest. Humming, the Joker waited patiently, with his hands held behind his back; for the local five bus to arrive. He waited behind three of his goons, each dressed, well...normally he supposed. It would be absolutely hilarious to see the look on the driver's face, as soon as he brushed by.
"Ah, here we are, boys." The Joker announced, as he rocked gently on the heels of his feet.
They all tensed up, as the bus rolled to a stop and the doors flew open. Was he the only professional out there? Groaning, he quickly pushed past and stepped up into the bus. The driver was instantly struck with shock and fear. As well as all the patrons on the bus. The Joker had been hoping for something a little more theatrical, but his help was a little flat on the delivery.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," The Joker dramatically greeted, as his goons stepped into the bus and held a gun at the driver. Taking a look at his watch, he observed, "It's, ah, a little early for so many people to be on the bus. You all wouldn't happen to be...scared would you? All because of little ol' me?"
The innocence in his question sent chills down everyone's spine. He was so unpredictable. So frightening. His eyes searched around, as if demanding an answer. Those dark eyes of his. One passenger in particular, seemed to be frightened. He held his body close and shook in fear, knowing it was not going to end well.
As the Joker's eyes scanned around the bus, he noticed something that caught his attention. Almost every seat on the bus was filled. Most likely because of the panic that the news had sent Gotham into. Everyone was frightened and their attentions were completely fixed on him. Worried that if they made the slightest move, they would be killed.
But, in the back; there was someone who wasn't frightened. In fact, not awake at all. The Joker raised an eyebrow and began to move towards the back. Just as he thought; this passenger's arms were folded and her head was rested against the window. Almond, shadowed eyes closed and mouth slightly hung open in a deep sleep.
The entire bus turned silent, as they watched the Joker peer closer to creature that peaked his interest. Whoever this girl was, she was in her early twenties. Height; five feet seven inches. Bone structure was soft curved, but had strong shoulders. Not a lot of body fat, he would guess a size four. Probably a Narrows girl who didn't have much money to eat.
The heavy sleeper had a light blonde pixie hair cut, fair skin, and a few freckles on her cheeks. Cute. He wondered where she was coming from; wearing a black zip up hoodie with fur lining, tight black jeans, and buckle boots. His eyes shifted down and took a look at her hands. Short nails, no polish. No money to get a decent manicure. But, her face looked fresh and she obviously had enough money to buy new clothes and make up for her eyes. Not homeless.
Wanting this stranger to join the party, the Joker clapped his hands loudly in front of her face. When that wouldn't work, he retracted his hand before sending it flying towards her cheek. The smack was loud and caused the rest of the bus to shudder. They were all powerless as to what this maniac was going to do to the innocent girl.
The pain sent the girl flying forward; her eyes snapping open. Brown eyes. She gasped at the pain, though; quickly slammed her back against the window upon seeing who was in front of her. Eyes wide and mouth open, she held her cheek in shock. Grinning wildly, the Joker greeted, "Oh, well, ah, how good of you to, ah, join us."
"I-I...I was just sleep- I've had a long day at work." She desperately tried to explain. Oh, God, when did the Joker hijack the bus?
Cackling, the Joker reeled back and asked, "And, ah, what's your name, doll-face?"
The girl gulped, as she attempted to calm her nerves, "Da-Darya...Darya Orlov."
"Orlav?"
"My grandparents...my grandparents, they are from Russia." She stuttered, hoping her name wasn't enough to get her killed. She had no traces of an accent and it was obvious she had been born in Gotham.
The Joker mused over Darya for a while. All while the others waited nervously. She was absolutely terrified by him. Her body was glued to the window, as if somehow that would protect her from harm. In that moment, she was almost willing to say whatever would keep her alive. But, she wasn't lying. He hated liars.
Suddenly bursting out in a hysterical fit, his gloved hand lashed forward and grabbed a hold of her forearm. Yanking her forward, he beckoned, "Come, come, you and I have, ah, a lot to talk about."
Darya was easily pulled out of her seat, her feet stumbling slightly as she was pulled towards the front of the bus. She turned and looked around, pleading for anyone to help her. No one even looked her way. She supposed she understood. After all, who would be crazy enough to stand up to the Joker? No one could help her.
Keeping his grip firm, he instructed his goons to, "Kill them all," before removing Darya from the bus.
The screams of dying passengers filled her ears, even as the Joker shoved her into a nearby white van. There were two more goons in the car, the driver instantly turning on the engine and taking off. Her brown eyes turned and watched, out the window; as blood was sprayed all along the windows of the bus. Everyone dead. It was then she felt a tightening in the pit of her stomach, overwhelmed with the realization that she was alive and they were dead. Well, for how long would she be alive?
"Now, ah, Darya," The Joker leaned forward while licking the sides of his lips, "I need a, ah, favor from you."
With her heart sinking, the blonde turned around and choked, "Um, w-what do you need?"
There really was nothing creepier than the Joker's smile. It was the scars. If he had been just a man in clown make-up, it wouldn't have frightened her so much. But, those scars. His Glasgow smile was always there, a part of him until he died. And when he actually smiled, everything was exaggerated. It wasn't just the physical appearance of the scars, but the curiosity as to how he obtained them. There would always be a mystery and each scenario was frightening.
"I need you to...ah...lift up your shirt."
At this, her brown eyes widened and she gawked, "W-What?"
Tilting his head curiously, he spoke in a threatening manner, "Don't make me tell you twice."
It wasn't a very ideal situation to be in. Darya had no idea what the Joker would want with her shirt gone. Somehow she knew it wouldn't be anything sexual. It didn't seem to be his style. Besides, it wasn't frightening enough. As traumatic as it was, for anyone; the scarred man needed something absolutely terrifying. Dismemberment. Torture. Hanging. Something horrible that no normal human being would ever fathom of being possible. That anyone could even have those kind of thoughts. No, rape was below him.
Darya took an uneasy breath in, while undoing the zipper of her hoodie. Her hands shook as she tore the furry outer layer off and worked on yanking a white camisole off her torso. Her eyes looked worrisome, flicking up to watch the Joker. His eyes were fixed along her skin, observing the light toned muscle that rest atop her stomach. Saw the way her skin wrapped around her ribcage. And most of all saw the small Old School style Skull Tattoo with a top hat, on her right hip bone.
Joker's lip's curved upwards, as he observed, "Looks like, ah, you're experienced in the field of...pain."
Looking down, she touched upon her old tattoo. Gotten on her eighteenth birthday. She also had a Gothic cross inked on her inner right forearm. That was done a year ago. Four years after her original. Biting her lower lip, she explained, "I just liked the way they look. You have to deal with the pain, but in the end you have beautiful art on your body."
"Well, looks like I'll be adding to your nice collection."
Darya raised an eyebrow, as soon the Joker's hand lashed out and gripped onto her neck. With brute force, he threw the girl's body down and jumped on top of her. She went to scream, though; received a hard slap to the face. The pain stung deep, it was a hard slap. One that caused tears to form in the pools of her eyes.
Cackling, he flicked out a pocket knife before adjusting her hands so that he was kneeling on them. He needed to keep them still and out of the way. The Joker gleefully giggled as his left forearm pinned Darya's chest down. She was completely immobile. Vulnerable to whatever the clown's sick mind came up with.
And then Darya couldn't stop the cries that whined out of her lips. It had hurt getting inked, but it was comforting knowing that she was getting her artwork done by a professional. Someone with steady hands and a nice personality. It made the experience virtually fly by and in the end, she had beautiful pieces of art on her body.
That wasn't the case with the Joker. His main objection was to cause as much pain as possible. There was no precision to his movements. No concern for the girl below him. Whatever he was carving, it was going to leave a nasty scar. It was going to be ugly, just like his Glasgow smile. Darya would have a reminder of this day on her forever.
As the tip of the blade pierced through her skin, her eyes began to water. Her vision was beginning to fuzz, as she felt her blood seep down onto her stomach. The knife tore violently into her, splitting open skin. Whatever he was doing, he was putting all his weight into it. He wanted to make sure the blade pierced all the way through; not just touching the surface of the skin.
Crying, Darya bucked her hips involuntarily. The very action caused The Joker to growl. Cracking his jaw, he reached up and gripped her chin, "Now, just a minute. Almost done."
Darya didn't have time, she quickly passed out soon afterward.
The police station was a chaotic mess. Hadn't they been through enough? The force hadn't had to work as hard as they did ever before. When the Joker had been caught, they all had taken a sigh of relief. It seemed that it was over. Everyone could relax, because the maniacal clown was locked away. Men could go home to their wives and not worry about their safety being threatened.
Well, they had all been wrong. Now that the Joker was on the loose, everything was on overdrive. It was bad enough that the police station was still being repaired after the clown blew it up, but now they had to worry about the whole city being blown up. It really seemed like Gotham could not catch a break.
Jim Gordon was especially stressed. Everything seemed to be in vain. Not only did he lose Harvey Dent, but he also lost the Batman. The Commissioner had thought the new DA would be Gotham's White Knight. That with him leading the way, Gotham could return to a time once forgotten. Instead, the Joker had corrupted him and made him a villain. As if that weren't bad enough, he also had to lose the Dark Knight. It was sickening that in order to preserve the reputation of a man who almost killed his son, he had to ruin the reputation of the only man who seemed to have Gotham's best interest at heart.
As grim as everything looked, Gordon was determined not to give up. He was stressed. There was no doubt about that. But, he would not allow Dent's death and the Batman's sacrifice be in vain. The Joker, or any foe in the future; would not be allowed to win. So long as he was the Commissioner, he would not lay down and accept defeat.
"Commissioner Gordon."
A young officer sprinted into the older man's office, looking pale as ever. Lifting his head, the older man asked, "What is it, son?"
"You need to come out here."
Nodding, Gordon jumped up and quickly ran out to the main area. He wasn't prepared for what was waiting for him. Barely standing was a young blonde girl. Bloodied and barely awake. Jim sprinted forward, catching the girl just before she collapsed, "It's okay, it's okay. What happened?"
Coughing up blood, Darya croaked, "The Joker...The Joker."
"Damn," Jim cursed under his breath, before shouting behind him, "I need a medic!"
All the officers scrambled around, some running to the phones to phone in an ambulance. Jim slowly eased the girl to the ground, not caring if he got blood all over himself. He needed to keep her awake, "What's your name?"
"D-Darya...Darya Orlov."
"How old are you, Darya?" He asked, while gently cupping her cheek.
Painfully coughing, the blonde winced, "Twenty-three."
Jim nodded, while reassuring, "Just hang in there, Darya. Help will be here soon."
"Jim," Darya reached up and grasped onto the older man's hand, "L-Lift up my shirt."
Jim raised an eyebrow. In the chaos of the moment, he wondered if she even realized what she was saying. As he looked into her eyes, he saw her pleading. As if not to let whatever happened to her be in vain. Nodding, he gently let go of her head and began to lift the bloodied shirt up. The material was quickly drying and he frowned as the newly formed scabs, which were dried onto the inside of her shirt; were pulled off. Reopening her wounds.
Frowning, he saw what The Joker wanted him to see. Cut straight across and right under the base of her bra, he had carved:
Gotham is Mine – Mr. J