Just a little something I wanted to try out, present tense and all that. After watching the Dark Knight 3 times, I had to let the ideas out somewhere. So obviously, this will contain spoilers. This particular scene is right before Comissioner Gordon gets back, after they trick the Joker. It might turn into a series of connected little stories, or it might just be one big one. I'm not sure yet, but please keep reading. And review, of course.
Positively Lethal
The Joker stands, insolent and sneering, in the middle of a dozen cops at the MCU. He's handcuffed and bruised, and he still sends a chill through even the most hardened men. The caked white makeup along with the dark circles painted around even blacker eyes, the scarlet paint smeared haphazardly across his grinning lips…
They look at each other, not knowing how to start. None of them want to touch him. Joker rolls his eyes, baring his teeth in a gruesome smile.
"So what can I do you gentleman for, hmm? I won't be able to, uh, entertain this evening, seeing as I am…" a breathy giggle, "incapacitated. At the moment."
Jack Reeve, the youngest cop there, was sick to his stomach. Just looking at the man, knowing how many innocent people had died because of him…his friends, some of them. He looks away as the clown catches his eye. He can't meet that curious, knowing gaze. Like all of his darkest secrets are on display, and that smug look somehow validated them. Jack had never wished death on anyone except for this murderer, this psycopath who left victims like candy wrappers strewn over the cracked sidewalk of his sick playground…
He doesn't notice as Joker shuffles forward, smacking his lips together in thought. The irons around his ankles clank together. Jack doesn't know that he is made weaker, more pliable through his emotions. That he only makes the game more interesting.
"Huh. You look nervous."
There's dead silence as the man –boy, really – looks up in surprise, then horrified realization dawns. The clown face splits in two with a wide grin.
"You're new to this, aren't you. Let me give you…let's call it a helpful hint, shall we? These guys," the Joker jerks his head at the men behind him, never taking his eyes off the cop's youthful face. He steps closer. The rest of them stand motionless, powerless. "They don't get it. Give them a cause, and they'll fight like crazy for it. Know what I mean? Fight to the death. And for what? Trying to control things, makes 'em feel in charge of their petty, insignificant-"
A punch to the gut. One of the older guys, his face twisted with anger. And suddenly they all close in, like hungry wolves to a kill. They forget that their prey is defenseless. They forget that this is what he thrives on. Chaos.
His laugh sounds more like a wheeze as a burly cop grabs strands of oily hair, jerking his head back roughly.
"Give a guy a chance, will you?" he snickers breathlessly as they pull various knives out of his pockets, slicing through fabric carelessly.
"Watch it, that vest is Armani!"
Th shrieks of laughter echo within their heads, and several cops back away. They can't take it either. He watches them go, chafing his wrists against the handcuffs that hold him captive. Finally only a few uniformed men stand in front of him, surveying his clothes. He wets his lips, cocks his head to the side.
"You missed a few."
The sound of choking and coughing comes from the other room. There's a few murmured whispers of "It's Jack," and one more leaves the starkly illuminated room.
The Joker smirks at the two cops left. "Want to give it a go?"
All of their heads turn as a third figure enters the station. The captive's painted mouth opens in a silent "O" of surprise as a higher voice rings out.
"You guys need some help with…that?"
She stands a full head and a half shorter than the two men, a mass of dark curly hair cascading over her shoulders. She stares at the Joker with two parts disgust and one part horrified fascination. He notices that her eyes are an odd shade of hazel. He can't tell if they're brown with a hint of green or mostly green with a few flecks of brown. For some reason, it angers him that he can't place the color. There's a handgun and cuffs attached to the belt slung around her slim waist. She notices that he's staring back at her with his permanent grin and turns away, disturbed.
"I think we got it under control, Jess," one of the bigger men says, his eyes trained on the twitchy Joker.
Jessica follows his gaze and flinches back as the Joker winks at her, motionless for a second. She can't look away a second time, as he rolls his head from side to side like a boxer preparing to get hit in the face.
She continues on, her voice a little weaker this time. "Are you sure, Chris? Because Gordon told me you needed as much back-up as possible for-"
"I'm right here, y'know," the chained man interrupts. "I can hear every word you're saying. How did that thing, that…rhyme go, again? Oh yes," he continues in a horribly fiendish soprano, "sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me."
He looks thoughtful for a second, his tongue darting to the corner of his ruined lips. "What's the girl here for? Trying to tempt me into spilling all my deepest, darkest secrets?"
Joker ducks down and avoids the punch headed towards his head, cackling. "So, Jess…May I take the liberty? … What's a sweet girl like you hanging around all these thugs for?"
She lays a hand on Chris's arm. No one fought her battles for her, ever. This wasn't the medieval ages, for God's sake.
"First of all, Mr. Joker, I am just as capable of doing my job as any of these men here…"
"I'll bet you are," the Clown Prince sneers.
"And second, you may call me Officer Williams." She looks him straight in the eye, businesslike, trying to hide the tremor in her hands and her voice.
"What a cheeky little thing! How re-freshing. You remind me of someone…"
Jess speaks loudly over him, addressing no one in particular. "Does he have any of his weapons left with him?
"Several," Joker answers. An exquisitely timed pause. "Officer."
She knows he's mocking her. The anger rises over her fear. She flushes angrily, her pale cheeks flooded with red.
"Such a delightful color," he crows, gesturing with his head for her to come closer. "Come get them yourself, princess. Don't worry, I don't bite."
Against her best instincts, she takes another step forward. She waves away her colleague's protests with one small hand, resting the other hand on her holster.
"Don't try anything, Joker," she warns. "I'm not afraid to use a gun."
He raises one eyebrow and then bursts into giggles. "Are you serious?" he laughs, bending over at the waist in hysteria. He nearly falls on the floor as she watches him, hands on her hips. Now she's just pissed off.
"Did I say something funny?"
He straightens back up, still snorting with laughter. "Nothing…at…all. I'd love to see a demonstration; you look positively lethal."
And he goes off again, throwing his head back and chuckling.
"That's it," she says, stepping up to him with only the slightest hesitation and dipping her hand into the lining of his jacket. She couldn't stand when people made fun of her just because of her size. Somehow, he had already exploited the one weakness that always got her. Jess worked hard to get where she was, and now some clown thought he could embarrass her in front of everyone…well, she would show him.
He quickly quiets down, watching her go through his pockets with some vestige of amusement. With his hands behind his back and his feet shackled to the floor, he couldn't do much except leer at her. Which he does, to her ever-growing feeling of unease. Still, she ignores the sounds of warning behind her (they didn't expect her to listen anyway), and continues searching for any other concealed weapons. The petite cop wrinkles her nose – he smells like gunpowder and smoke and that musty scent she always associated with death. She can hear him breathing…in out, in out…
"Ha!" Jess pulls a small blade from inside the sleeve of his shirt. Another from the small of his back.
"Bravo," he says dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. She steps away and takes a deep breath, flinging her hair over her shoulder. "Had enough for today, babyface?"
"Not unless you have any more knives."
"Keep looking, then."
She does so, checking around his collar. She doesn't want to go anywhere near his pants. An officer steps forward, about to pull Jess away, when the Joker shakes his head at him. "Nu-uh, having way too much fun over here. In fact," he brings his voice down to a husky whisper, "I think she likes me."
Forgetting who he is for a second, Jessica turns her face to his and gives him her best I-don't-think-so look. He pretends to look offended. She freezes as he brings his face close to hers, her eyes wide.
"She loves me, she loves me not," he sing-songs into her ear, breathing in deep. She bites her lower lip but doesn't move. Her legs are frozen – she's sure that if she'll collapse into a heap if she tries to unlock her knees. Jess has never felt so alone in her entire life. Move! she shouts silently at her feet. But they won't budge. He nudges her cheek with his nose and she resists the urge to scream.
"Check my shoes," he tells her. She can hear the smile in his voice as his breath fans out across her face. She sinks to her knees before him as if in a trance and pulls a pocketknife from his sock. She hears the click of guns behind her and stands back up, trying to look reassuring.
"It's alright, I'm fine. He can't have any weapons with him, you know that…"
She looks back at the Joker. Her face feels like a frozen mask, like she too has chalky makeup running down her cheeks. Her stern voice is ruined by the underlying fear. "Is that all?"
He's looking at the knife in her hand, his mouth working as if he was just about to say something. Jess frowns.
"What is it?"
"That's my favorite," he says, nodding at the blade held carelessly in her grasp. "People take themselves so seriously. A couple of slices with that thing and…well, they just look so much happier."
Jessica can't keep the disgust off her face. She drops the knife on the table like it's contaminated. She knows what he wants her to ask. She doesn't disappoint.
"What happened to you? Do you…do you remember, at all…?"
"Funny you should ask. So I have this shrink, right, who doesn't know his head from his ass, and he tells me-"
"Williams, Gordon's gonna be here soon and this freak has to be behind bars."
Joker doesn't look very pleased with the interruption. At all. In fact, the look on his face is completely murderous. Jess takes another step back, feeling a shiver down her spine.
"Okay, then. I don't think there's any more."
The captive raises his eyes to the ceiling and jerks his head downward, towards his pants pocket, whistling. He's happy to oblige – having a weapon isn't really top priority at the moment. She sighs and glances at him cautiously, reaching out an arm to pluck the handle from his pocket. It doesn't budge.
"You might have to pull a little harder than that, beautiful."
She grumbles under her breath and braces herself for a trick. She yanks hard and it finally flies out, along with a grenade. The men draw back, horrified.
The Joker shrugs, raising one bony shoulder. "Oops. Forgot that was in there."
The minute Jess stands back, the two cops hustle him into general holding, gripping his arms none too gently. He turns his head, searching for that girl. He's decided that her eyes aren't quite as confusing when she's afraid.
"I'll have to tell you about the scars next time."
"Don't count on it, Mr. Joker," she calls back, hands on hips again. She turns away from his terrifying smile and runs a shaking hand through her hair. Time to go home and take a relaxing bath. Maybe a scalding hot shower. She runs her hands up and down her arms, feeling dirty. Not for the first time, she contemplates moving far, far away. The Joker's voice resounds in her head.
She loves me, she loves me not…