Sweethearts in a Getaway Car
Prologue
My name is Phoenix Larkin Blake. I am twenty years old. I am in Gotham City. I am alive. I am not crazy.
Phoenix had to repeat that to herself the start of everyday, while staring at herself in the mirror (albeit, begrudgingly). Well...ever since what she called the incident, she had to repeat that to herself. Although, she was beginning to be very unsure of the last statement.
With a heavy sigh, the brunette turned off the light of her small bathroom and turned away from the mirror. She couldn't even bare to look at herself anymore. The scars upon her face made her think herself ugly. Especially after the fresh ones healed. People called her Scar for a reason. Although...he called her Scarface. She hated that.
When she had met him, she'd only had one scar on her face. It went just over her right eye and all the way up to her temple. She liked to cover it up with her half bangs. Now, she had a couple extra ones. Thanks to him. To J. Or, as most people tended to call him, The Joker. The Clown Prince of Crime. The Harlequin of Hate. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Yet...why did Phoenix feel the need to free him? Why did she feel the need to scheme and plot to get him out of Arkham?
Well...she guessed that's what Bonnie and Clyde syndrome did to a person. Now, don't get her wrong...she had been no angel when she met him. He had just...broken her already damaged halo and replaced it with horns, so to speak. He had made her. And she, in return, had made him, in a way. They had complemented each other well, even if they hated to admit it.
A smile stretched across Phoenix's face as she made her way to her kitchen. She wasn't there for food, however. She had all of her plans laid out on the counters and the table. She was there to plot and scheme even more. Right now, she knew exactly who she needed to be J's psychiatrist. A blonde haired floozy, Harleen Quinzel. She would be perfect and, luckily, Phoenix happened to know her. J would fuck the bitch up and she would let him out. Now, Phoenix just had to hope that he wouldn't get himself too attached. If it even got that far, that is.
She paused a moment, her back hunching as she leaned on the counter. She was filled with a sudden sadness. The young woman was pretty sure that J didn't even know that she was still alive. She was pretty sure that he though she was dead. Hell, sometimes she thought she was dead. But, the way that Vicki Vale pestered her for interviews day after day definitely said otherwise. Everyone wanted to know what it was like to be on the inside of The Joker's lair, in the middle of all of his plans. Everyone wanted to know what he was like in private. And Phoenix wouldn't give the media that satisfaction of knowing.
In all honesty, she couldn't care any less. Even if she fucking tried. All that she cared about was getting him back.
Getting him back so they could go back to being two sweethearts in a getaway car again.
And Phoenix Blake always got what she wanted, no matter what the cost.
AN: So, hi! I hope you liked the prologue of Sweethearts in a Getaway Car! This is my first Joker story. However, I cannot give myself all the credit here. This whole idea is based off the tumblr roleplays between myself, sexdrugsmxrder, and myfaceontheonedollarbill. The mun, Rachel/Mike, is a fucking fantastic roleplayer and has J's personality down to a T. Without them, I wouldn't be writing this story.
*gets off my soapbox*
Now, go review and follow and yadda yadda!