Daryl Gordon opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the semi-darkness. The last thing Gordon could remember was being at his job as a security technician at Arkham. The back of his head throbbed painfully and he vaguely recalled being hit over the head with something heavy. He tried to shift his position, but discovered quickly that he could not. Someone had tied his legs and arms to the wooden chair he was seated in. Gordon was interrupted in his thoughts by a high pitched feminine giggle. A young woman stepped out from the shadows somewhere to his left.
"Wakey wakey!" she giggled, "time to get up! I don't have all day yanno. People to kill, places to bomb, I'm a busy girl!" The strange women flicked a blond piece of hair of out of her eyes and then reached out and caressed his cheek. "Aww… are you too stunned to speak? No? Oh, maybe this has something to do with this." She ripped the silver tape off his mouth. "There. Now we can have a proper chat."
Gordon watched her warily. "What do you want?" She giggled in response and sat on his lap. "You're not very polite. You didn't even ask my name! Well, it's Mime. But you can call me ARRRRRGHHHH while holding your throat and dying horribly because that's all you'll be able to say while we are having our fun little play date." Mime winked at him. Gordon was not amused with her joke. Rather, he was more terrified than he would have liked to admit. In the faint light he could make out some details about her. She had black lipstick that curved up her cheeks into a demented smile. Her dark blue eyes were surrounded by black make up and it dripped down her cheeks as if she had been crying. The whole effect was completed by her outfit. Mime wore a tiny black and white dress that would have made a prostitute blush and a small matching top hat. She reminded him a circus performer on some really bad drugs. The large knife she had seemed to be made of bone and it glittered ominously in the dim lights. He couldn't take his eyes off of it as she waved it around, trying to get his attention.
"Oh, you like my knife? Mr. J gave it to me as a birthday present. He told me that it's made from the femur bone of a human." Mime grinned wickedly. "It's my most prized possession. I love it more than annnnnnyyythiiiiing!" She gently dug the tip of it into his cheek, drawing a tiny bead of blood. Mime watched in fascination as it rolled down to his chin, leaving a faint red trail behind it. She smiled wider, her astonishingly white teeth bright in the darkness. "Well…. Almost more than anything… I love my darling Mr. J more. But sadly, he's not here to play with me anymore. And it's your big brother's fault." Mime dug the knife harder into his cheek, causing him to wince as more blood rolled down onto his chin.
"Life is soooooo unexciting without Mr. J. So I've decided to take it upon myself to get him out of an early retirement. But I can't do it without your help. And I'm gonna be honest with you. You really don't have a choice. No. Wait, I lied. You do have a choice. You tell me and I let your family live, but if you don't…. I kill them and all my little friends in the police station will make it look like your fault. And I don't think big brother Jim will like the fact that his baby brother killed his entire family. He won't like it. Not one bit. In the end it's all up to you. Tell me the firewall codes for Arkham's security cameras and anything I should know about the guards around Mr. J's cell. Or padded room. Whichever you put him in this time. I would also like to know which Doctor has been assigned to rehabilitate him. Let me assure you, Mr. Gordon. My Joker doesn't need to be fixed. He is perfect just the way he is."
Gordon glared at her. "What, you mean an insane, murdering, psychopathic clown? Well in that case yeah, he's perfect." He spat out at her. "And you will never, ever touch my family."
Mime cocked her head, giggling to herself. "You are a stupid one, aren't you?" She pulled the knife away from his cheek, and without notice, stabbed it into his leg. Over his ragged breathing, Mime laughed mockingly at him. "Oh, you will tell me." She twisted the knife viciously in his leg. "Every single little detail."
*4 and a half hours later*
Mime crouched over the broken body of Daryl Gordon, a small smirk on her lips. "Well, that was easier than I thought." She muttered softly to herself. In her left hand she clutched a bloody piece of paper that had numbers and letters scrawled on one side, while on the other side, a detailed sketch of the guard's route around the Joker's cell block.
Mime leaned over the corpse and kissed its cheek, leaving a perfect black kiss. "Sweet dreams."
She got up and walked out of the abandoned house and onto the dark streets of Gotham City. She knew that the smell of the rotting flesh would draw the attention of passerby's and that Jim Gordon would never let his brother's sudden disappearance go unchecked by the GPD.
Things were going perfectly and the sun had still yet to rise.
