So. New story from me, Jerri Maverick. First one in a long time and in a totally new section then I'm used to. However, with the sudden interest of Batman come back, my own obsession with the Joker came back and a story soon followed. I hope to be able to write out the entire story, instead of writing 8 chapters then abandoning it because I get distracted by another story idea. Luckily, this is the only story floating around in me brain at the moment, so yay!
Disclaimer: If I owned Batman I would be a very happy girl. But I don't. Hell, I don't know who owns Batman. And besides, I would only want the bad guys, cause behind all the sturm and bat-o-rangs, Batman's just a little boy in a playsuit, crying for mommy and daddy! It'd be funny if it weren't so pathetic. (Disclaimer in disclaimer: I modified the line from Return of Joker.)
Note: Harly Quinn is dead. I don't know how she died, but in this story she is el dead-o. Maybe a story of that will come into my brain and I'll work it into this story somehow. Only if my brain thinks it though.
And here…we…go!
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Joker straddled the woman he had just finished tying to the headboard with a couple silk neckties he had found in the dresser beside the bed. Green and purple silk neckties. The Joker smiled a grin that was only partly manic. It only stretched across 15 teeth, instead of all the way to his molars like his best maniacal smiles did.
He gazed down at the young woman. Really, she couldn't have been called a woman, she couldn't have been older then 20. But her taste in entertainment must have run in the same gauntlet as his own, apparent by the many and various knives that Joker had found in the kitchen during his little sweep of the apartment that she and her boyfriend lived in together. Now the smile went wider and if anyone, anybat, would happen to have crashed through the large window to the right of the bed, they would have been witness to the unraveling of the grin so widely known of in the city of Gotham, and even the world.
Joker trailed the knife he held in his left hand down the girl's small pert nose, getting a feel for it under the blade, then pressed the steel between the full lips of her small mouth. He thought about putting a smile on the innocent face, but decided he wanted to have some fun first. He pulled the knife down the pale smooth neck and into the collar of the huge sleeping shirt that was the only clothing Joker could see at the moment, then slowly sliced through the thin cotton material, being careful to only cut the material and not the tender skin underneath. It wouldn't be fun to break in a new toy with out it knowing, he reasoned.
When he was finished with the shirt, he was careful in cutting off the sleeves as well so the girl in question would have absolutely no protection between her flesh and his steel. Lowing his gaze from the girl's arms and throwing the decimated shirt into a dark corner at the same time, the Joker's eyes and grin widen again with pleasure. Underneath the hideous, large, and unshapely shirt hid a body that Harly, Devil rest her soul, would have been jealous of. Oddly enough though, at least to Joker, who could never and would never understand the female mind, she was wearing a bra under the tee. (A/N: Am I the only girl who does this? Pray to god that I'm not…) It was purple striped, with yellow lace around the edges. It fit perfectly with the rest of the room's color scheme, purple and green with accents of yellow.
Joker pressed the point of the knife into the flesh of her right breast. "It wiggles." He chortled. He lifted the knife to the other breast. "And it jiggles. But it sure ain't JELLO! He-He!"
Joker jumped off the girl and stood still for a moment, letting his giggles pass before heading for the door. The girl could wait for the moment, right now he had business to attend to. From the living room banging and muffled yells for help could heard. The boyfriend had woken up.
A little while later, Joker walked back into the bedroom, where the color scheme couldn't be seen anymore by the dying winter sunlight. Wiping the blade of a knife he had found in the small but well used kitchen onto a crisp purple handkerchief, Joker stood at the bottom of the bed, contemplating the girl before him.
While busy taking care of the nuisance, there had been an untimely but very eye-opening telephone call for Ms. Jacqueline Smith.
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"She's a bit tied up at the moment." The Joker snickered, eyeing the pad of paper on the stand beside the phone. He picked it up, shifted the telephone to the other ear, and replaced the bloodied knife in his left hand for a pen. "But I could take a message."
"Alright then, could you please tell her that the vest, shirt and coat of the Joker outfit are complete, but could she please send in the lower measurements again? It would appear that those measurements have been lost somewhere."
"…need measurements of pant-ular region. Got it." Joker slammed the telephone piece back onto the receiver and waltzed over to the quivering heap of human that was the male tenant of the apartment. "You're girlfriend got a thing for me?"
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All trace of red was gone from the knife, and it sparkled. Or would have sparkled had there been light. The Joker's gaze fell upon on the breathing form that was laying on the bed which took up half the room. The female hadn't moved a hair since his untimely departure. Moving closer, Joker placed the used knife back in his pocket while extracting one with a longer blade with his other hand. She was finally starting to wake up when the Joker finally got close enough to see in the gloom her matching panties to her bra. In one quick motion the Joker straddled her, placed his right hand over her eyes and his left hand to lightly press the shiny blade into her throat.
"Hello." He breathed into her ear.
The girl's eyes opened under Joker's hand, her eyelashes brushing up against the leather of his gloves. She stiffened, struggled against her restraints and attempted to buck Joker off her. She started to scream, but the sudden pressure of the serrated teeth of the knife on her throat caused her to stifle it before she could get any body into it.
"Now, do you promise to behave?"
She froze, her eyes going wider if possible under Joker's hand and whispered, "Yes."
Joker giggled and the girl under him started to shake. He smiled. The sweet smell of fear was radiating from her lithe form and it had been Joker's last psychologist that had said he needed to experience life more. And if his last psychologist had been Harly Quinn well, so be it.
He leaned in for a closer whiff of the intoxication aroma. His nose touching hers, he could feel her quiver. He took a large intake of air, letting the smell wash over him. Joker was about to let a witty and horrible joke out between his ruby lips when he paused. Underneath the smell of fear, other, stronger notes could be made out.
Arousal.