In Another Life
"Jack, quit playing with that damn card and pay attention!"
Jack Napier sighed, folding the Joker playing card back into the pack and pocketing the deck.
"Now when you get inside, I want Chuckie and Buzz covering the guys at the cash registers. Jack, I want you covering the guys on the floor and making sure nobody leaves. Jack, you listening?"
"On the floor, yeah, yeah," muttered Jack.
"I mean it, Jack. If someone gets out and alerts the police, it won't be funny."
Jack smiled. "Got a joke for you, Sal. What do you call a hostage who tries to escape from me? Dead meat!"
Jack laughed. Nobody else did. Salvatore Valestra, the leader of the gang, suddenly grabbed Jack by the collar and pulled him out of the backseat of the car towards him. "You need to stop trying to be a comedian, Jack," he hissed. "You ain't funny."
Jack glared at him in loathing as Sal shoved him away. "Now get outta here, all of you. I'll be waiting with the engine on – you got ten minutes and we're gone, get me? So don't mess around. Get the cash and get out."
Chuckie and Buzz muttered, "Yes, boss."
"Jack?" demanded Sal.
"Yes, boss," muttered Jack.
"Good. Beat it," said Sal.
The three gangsters climbed out of the car and slammed the door. "Ok, seriously, guys, don't tell me I'm the only one who thinks Sal is losing it," muttered Jack as they walked.
"He's gotta point," said Chuckie, shrugging. "These places are pretty hopping at lunchtime. Could take a good wad of dough."
"There's more dough elsewhere," retorted Jack. "Banks, museums, jewelry stores, for Christ's sake."
"Yeah, but those places are heavily guarded," retorted Buzz. "And Sal don't want a lot of trouble."
"The guy's no fun," muttered Jack, pulling out a cigarette. "He needs to loosen up and learn how to take a joke, instead of planning jokes like this whole operation. We're gonna look real stupid, a bunch of gangsters holding up a fast-food joint."
"Thought you wanted people laughing at you, Jack," retorted Chuckie.
"Not because I look stupid," snapped Jack. "Do I look like a clown to you, Chuckie?"
"Nah, you ain't got the red nose and the funny shoes like this guy here," said Chuckie, gesturing to the clown statue outside the fast-food restaurant.
"That's because I ain't a clown," retorted Jack. "I don't want people laughing at me. I want people laughing at my jokes."
"I dunno, Jack," said Buzz, grinning. "I reckon you'd make a pretty good clown. My girlfriend can loan you her lipstick, if you want. Might suit you. Kinda be difficult to take you seriously as a criminal, though."
He laughed, and Chuckie joined in. "Oh, I dunno, Buzz," replied Jack, grinning. "You fire a couple rounds in someone's face and people tend to take you pretty seriously, however you look."
To prove his point, he pulled out his gun and shot the clown statue in the face several times. "Aw, Jesus Christ, Jack, you got 'em panicked!" shouted Chuckie, as he and Buzz rushed into the restaurant, pulling out their own guns and shouting for everyone to put their hands in the air and get down on the floor.
Jack chuckled to himself, smiling at the clown's mutilated face. He wasn't a huge fan of clowns. They tended to creep him out. "Just gave you a round of applause, Funny Boy!" he chuckled, lighting his cigarette and strolling leisurely into the restaurant.
He inhaled deeply, looking around at the chaos. He enjoyed this. There was nothing like the smell of fear and the look of terror in people's eyes during a hold-up. Although he was getting really sick of taking orders from idiots like Sal Valestra. If he was in charge of the gang, they wouldn't be hitting small-time targets like this. Where was the fun in that? They'd be going after big things – Gotham City Bank, Gotham History Museum, Wayne Manor, maybe. Sal just didn't have any style or flair for crime. And what was the point of crime if you weren't going to have a little fun? And speaking of fun, it was his time to shine.
"All right, ladies and gents!" he said, scanning the room with his gun. "Just stay calm and nobody is gonna get hurt! I should tell ya though, I got a bit of an itchy trigger finger, so if anyone makes any sudden movements, they tend to end up with a bullet in their brains. It ain't nothing personal – just a nervous tick, y'know." He laughed to himself. "So, who wants to hear some jokes? I got a million of 'em for occasions like this. How about this one? Why do they call it fast food? Anyone got any guesses? Anyone? No? It's called fast food because you're supposed to eat it really fast. Otherwise, you might actually taste it!" He laughed hysterically, glancing around the room.
He stopped laughing suddenly as his eyes fell upon a teenage girl not far from him. The group of friends surrounding her had terror in their eyes, just like everyone else in the joint, but not her. She glared back at him with wide, blue eyes, annoyed, but not afraid. And as much as he enjoyed seeing fear in people's faces, the fact that she wasn't afraid was kinda intriguing. And kinda hot.
He approached her, puffing on his cigarette. "Get the joke, sweetheart?" he murmured. "Need me to explain it to you?"
"Do I look dumb?" retorted the girl, eyes narrowing.
He studied her small, shapely body, just developing into womanhood, her blonde hair done up in pigtails, and her pretty little face, red lips pouting at him in annoyance.
"Nah, not dumb, sweets," he muttered. "Hot, though. Daddy wouldn't mind a piece of that."
"In your dreams, grandpa," she snapped.
He laughed. "You are kinda dumb if you start provoking your captors, sweets. It's a real bad idea, kid. Might have to give you a spanking."
He grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. "If you get the joke, why ain't you laughing, baby?" he murmured.
"Because you ain't funny," she snapped.
He chuckled. "Feisty little minx, ain't ya?" he whispered. "Daddy likes that. But he also likes people to laugh at his jokes. So why don't you do that before Daddy is forced to punish his bad little girl?"
He flicked out a knife and held it against the girl's throat. "Go on, sweetheart," he murmured. "Laugh."
"I ain't gonna laugh for you," whispered the girl, glaring at him.
"Wrong answer, kid," he murmured, pressing the blade against her skin. She gasped in pain. Jack slowly danced the blade over her face and neck and chest, teasing. "Where should Daddy mark his precious baby?" he murmured, sliding the blade back up to her face. "Oh, I know. How about a nice big smile?"
"Jack, time's up, we gotta go," said Chuckie, throwing the sack of money over his shoulder and heading for the door. "Boss ain't gonna wait for us."
"Oh, too bad, baby," whispered Jack, grabbing her face in his hand and dragging it close to his. "We're all outta playtime. Shame. There's no fun in a heist where nobody gets hurt. But ain't you just the luckiest girl in the world?"
She didn't respond, just gazed at him with a strange, indefinable expression in her blue eyes. They were really pretty, those big blue eyes, and those red little lips, slightly parted in shock. Too pretty to resist. He suddenly shoved his own lips against them, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She gave a little cry, but he wasn't sure whether it was pleasure or repulsion. Probably the latter, he thought, although it seemed to him that she pressed her mouth tentatively against his in return. Nah, that must have been his imagination, wishful thinking on his part, that a girl like that would want a guy like him. He drew out of her mouth and released her face, chuckling, and then reached into his pocket.
"You ever get lonely, baby, you give me a call. Here's my card."
He shoved a playing card into her pants. "See you later, sweets," he said, winking at her. The gangsters left the restaurant.
"Harley!" cried one of the girl's friends, rushing toward her and hugging her. "Oh my God, Harley, are you all right?!"
"Yeah," stammered the girl, staring after the gangsters. Her whole body was shaking. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Oh God, Harley, that was the scariest thing I ever saw!" exclaimed her friend. "You must have been terrified!"
"Yeah," murmured Harley again, her eyes glassy. She was confused about her feelings, actually. It hadn't been terror. She knew what terror felt like. This had been new and strange and exciting, intoxicating. It had made the blood pump through her, made her body tingle and her heart race like nothing else ever had before. That seemed really weird, considering she had been threatened. Considering she had had a weapon held against her body, so keen she could feel the point cutting into her flesh, caressing her skin...she hadn't wanted it to stop. That didn't make any sense.
And when he had drawn her face close to his, her heart had pounded in excitement at the thought that he might kiss her. And then he had, and it was…the most amazing feeling in the world. The feel of his lips, his tongue, invading her mouth was…incredible.
That was wrong. That was really wrong and messed up. It was disgusting. She was disgusting for feeling that way in that situation, and about a guy twice her age. What the hell was wrong with her? It was like she was some kinda sick freak. She felt ashamed and dirty…but that didn't necessarily feel bad.
She knew she couldn't tell her friend about it – she wouldn't understand. No one would understand.
Harley shook her head and hugged her friend back. "Hey, I'm ok, and that's what matters. Enough excitement for one day, though, don't you think?" she said, forcing a laugh. "But at least we got a good story to tell, right? C'mon, let's go home."
Her friends headed for the door. Harley was about to follow them, when she suddenly remembered that he had left her something. She reached into her pants and pulled out the playing card. She looked at it, puzzled, then shrugged and followed her friends, resolving to try to forget the whole thing. But she couldn't conceal a smile as she remembered how he had made her feel, what incredible, delightful sensations he had awoken, feelings she never could have imagined before. She carefully slid the playing card back into her pants, holding it tightly against her flesh. It was the face of a Joker.