The nightclub had changed since he'd last been there. Not in location or appearance. It even held the same dark vibe. But everything just seemed...more. More low-level thugs, more thrashing masses worshiping yet another goth metal band. More noise, more smoke, more darkness.
Perhaps he'd just been in Arkham too long. One month of white walls was more than enough for the Joker, and it had taken four months before anyone had let down their guard enough to give him an opportunity to escape.
But escape he did (as if they could keep him anywhere he didn't want to be), just over a week before this particular trip to his favorite haunt.
Acid Burn, the most exclusive underground club in Gotham, was particularly busy this evening. Muse was doing a show, and the usually comfortable and spacious club was packed from wall to wall with bodies eagerly awaiting the band. It was for this reason that the Clown Prince of Crime himself was able to sit among them, hidden away in a back corner, shrouded in shadows.
The chaos was nice, after the solitude of the Asylum, and Muse was good band, in his opinion. These things helped to keep him seated nicely in his chair while nursing his whiskey, though he was feeling incredibly restless. One gloved hand of fingers drummed on the table under them in an irritated fashion. The other clutched a glass, half full of the strongest whiskey available, and slid it in aimless circles before him, pausing occasionally to raise said whiskey to his lips to take a sip. He chewed on the edges of his scars alternatively in a habitual manner, his dark eyes boring into the table in front of him. He hoped Muse was going on soon, because he wasn't sure how much longer he could go without stirring up some trouble. He needed a distraction...
One presented itself immediately, as the owner of the club, Ty Thatcher, hopped onto the stage and introduced the opener; a name he didn't recognize. It seemed she had a slight following, as many of the females packed before the stage cried out in approval as the girl stepped onto the stage. Xylophone notes soon sounded; a stream of steady, staccato notes. After several beats it was joined by a dark sort of techno sound and several female voices. Joker glanced to the stage, discovering three other women on stage beginning the song, while the one off to the side was now playing a harpsichord, her blond hair obscuring her face as she stared at the keys before her intensely.
Lolita, Lolita, the women on stage and in the crowd were singing, nearly chanting. Lolita, Lolita.
How old are you?
I'm older than you'll ever be.
Dark eyes were drawn to her immediately, the blond that had been nearly off the stage was, in fact, the main attraction. He could tell, not only by the crowd's reaction as she began the first verse, but because of her voice. That dark voice, so full of confidence and anger and disgust. It was her commanding voice that sparked the Joker's interest.
I've been dead a thousand years,
and lived only two or three.
I don't mind telling you
my life was ended by your hand
She moved away from her instrument as she claimed the microphone from the stand in front of her, weaving in between her back-up singers as she made her way toward the center of the stage, her head bowed, eyes on the first few rows of the crowd.
The kind of murder where nobody dies
But I don't suppose you'd understand...
He didn't know how, but pain actually seemed to tear through her voice as she raised her head slowly, eyes squeezed shut. Her blond locks stayed stubbornly in front of her face, until she jerked her head as an angry chorus began, her growling voice joined by many in the audience.
If I am Lolita
then you are a criminal,
And you should be killed by
an army of little girls.
The law won't arrest you,
the world won't detest you,
You never did anything
any man would do.
As a "psychotic serial killer/sociopath" (as they labeled him; he wasn't much into labels himself), the Joker wasn't exactly the type of guy to be shocked by a lot of things. So the sensation that made his heart hammer and stomach plummet was a strange one, but it filled him nonetheless as his vision locked on the singer's mouth. Plump and pouted lips, painted a deep crimson, and, from the right corner of her mouth, a jagged scar that ran up to her cheekbone. As she continued the chorus, her lips pulled back over angrily bared teeth, twisting the scar and making it appear as even more of a deformity.
I'm Gothic Lolita
and you are a criminal,
I'm not even legal
I'm just a dead little girl.
But ruffles and laces
and candy sweet faces
directed your furtive hand
I perfectly understand.
(It's my fault, Gothic Lolita)
He wanted her immediately, he recognized. Needed her, really. She had a story, and he wanted to hear it. He watched from the shadows, his eyes never leaving her pale face, and started really listening to the words she was singing.
Thank you, kind sirs
You've made me what I am today.
A bundle of broken nerves
a mouthful of words I'm still afraid to say.
I don't mind telling you,
Now that I'm old enough to lie;
I couldn't begin to even if
my pretty life depended on it.
And funny thing,
it does...
They began the chorus again, but everything was starting to fade as he studied the woman before him. He eyed the gash that marred half of her beautiful face while his tongue poked at his own absentmindedly. Curiosity niggled at his brain as he wondered how she had obtained such a...unique scar.
It took the harsh and rapid notes of a new song beginning for Joker to realize that he hadn't been in the nightclub at all, but in a dark alley, kneeling in blood, hands bound-
It's not the time,
It's not the place,
I'm just another pretty face
So don't come any closer.
You're not the first,
You're not the last,
How many more?
Don't even ask
You're one more dead composer.
In one swift movement Joker downed the rest of his whiskey, dropping the empty glass to his table with a thud, and stood from his seat, scanning the corners of the room. With his destination set, he began sliding through the mass of bodies, his unpainted face bent low. He picked a trail slowly, not one person giving him a second glance.
Misery loves company
and company loves more,
More loves everybody else
but hell is others.
I'm not for you,
You're not for me,
I'll kill you first,
You wait and see
You devil undercover.
You're not a prince,
You're not a friend,
You're just a child
and in the end
You're one more selfish lover.
He was halfway across the room and very tempted to start stabbing people out of his way. Taking an (attempted) calming breath, Joker began to push through with slightly more force and seemed to actually pick up momentum.
Do I need you?
Yes and no.
Do I want you?
Maybe so.
You're getting warm
You're getting warm
You're getting warmer, oh,
"Hello, Tybalt," he greeted cheerfully as he finally reached his target against the far wall between the stage and bar. "I see business is, uh booming, hm?"
The man's lips twisted into a half-scowl, half-smirk. "Heard about the breakout. What took you so long to get out here?"
"Been keepin' one of those low profiles," Joker explained, stepping closer so he didn't have to shout so loud over the music. Unlike countless others, this particular acquaintance didn't flinch away or react at all as the clown closed the distance between them. "But enough about me. Tell me about her," he jerked his head in the direction of the stage, eyes set on the man before him.
The club owner grinned, leaning forward with a cocky smirk, "I had a feeling you'd be interested in her. Hell of a singer, isn't she?"
His attention had, once again, been captured by the mystery on stage.
You're so easy to read
but the book is boring me,
You're so easy to read,
but the book is boring me
"Her name is Deirdra," Tybalt supplied after a moment, pulling a small notepad and pen from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket.
"Stage name?" Joker wondered out loud, watching the girl in question stalk about the stage.
"Nope, given. Likes to go by Dee," Ty corrected.
"A local?" he questioned, glancing back to Ty to find him scribbling something down on a piece of paper.
"Yeah," he answered as he wrote. A moment later he was tearing the paper out and pushing it into Joker's hand.
He worked his scar between his teeth as he scrutinized the note:
Deirdra Casey, 24
West Harlow
"I don't know her exact address but I know she lives in West Harlow," Ty informed him. "She's played here half a dozen times now. I don't think she's too far though. She always walks home after her gigs; leaves from the back."
"Well isn't that...daring," the Joker muttered as his eyes inevitably found her again. She was finishing up her song now, the crowd in fits, practically screaming with her.
Pray for me
if you want to,
Pray for me
if you care,
Pray for me
if you want to,
Pray for me, you fucker,
if you fucking dare!
The audience continued their cheering as the women on stage bowed and thanked them before exiting off the side of the stage, slipping backstage to their dressing room. Distraction now absent, Joker turned back to the man before him.
"You're a good man, Ty," he thanked, clapping him on the back, perhaps a little rougher than necessary. "Remind me to throw you a bone when I get up and running again, hm?"
"Certainly will, J," the club owner smiled appreciatively at the clown whose presence causes so many others to cower in fear.
He eyed the stage briefly, wishing that it had been only her on stage and now back in the dressing room. Seeing that a meeting would have to wait, Joker began to pick his way through the mess of bodies (now screaming in approval as Muse made their appearance), toward the exit this time.
The chilly air was refreshing and revitalizing after the stuffy heat of the packed nightclub; Joker tipped his head to the sky and took a deep breath. A quick glance up and down the alley showed it deserted. The hidden club resided in the heart of Downtown Gotham, but the area was always free of traffic at night. Though it was a relatively easy place to arrive at, it wasn't so easy to actually get in the doors. Most of the city didn't even know of its existence; where Acid Burn was concerned you'd either been there, or never heard of it.
He set about locating the door from which the singer would be leaving. Having found it, he leaned against a wall right around the corner, settling into the shadows. Then, he waited.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Are you sure you won't stay and drink with us?" Veronica asked for the third time as Dee was stepping into her jeans.
Deirdra gave her friend a weak smile, though she was beginning to get tired of saying no. "I'm just not up to it tonight. I feel really tired."
"But...MUSE," Aprella protested with wide eyes. The ballerina grabbed her friend's wrists and shook them, as if trying to shake some sense into her. The act made it difficult for Dee to finish zipping up her pants. "How can you pass up a free Muse show?"
Peeling out of the girl's grip, Dee gave a shake of her head, feeling as though she were trying to explain something to a three year old. "I've been going overboard lately and you three know it," she informed them, shooting an accusatory glance in each of their directions. "My body is screaming at me to slow down, and tonight I have to listen. It would be no good if I got sick right before we went to London, right?"
Knowing this to be true, Deirdra's three closest friends turned backup singers finally conceded defeat. The trip was still two months away, but the small tour they were doing in England was so important for their music career that no one was willing to risk any mistakes.
"Ohh, that reminds me, Veronica!" Lucina piped up from the feinting couch that she had collapsed on. "Guess who's going to be in London for the next six months...?" her tone held great implications, hardly causing her subject of conversation to be a mystery.
"Really?" Veronica beamed, "When did you talk to Callum?"
"A few days ago. He asked how you were doing..."
Dee tuned the other girls out as she rummaged through her messenger bag. "Shit," she muttered as her search resulted in empty hands. "Anyone bring an extra shirt, per chance? I forgot one."
Her band of miscreants answered in the negative simultaneously, ushering another curse from Dee's throat.
Veronica laughed. "Just wear your corset home."
"It's like 50 degrees outside, Naughty V," Dee informed her flatly.
"Doesn't look like you've got much of a choice," Lucina pointed out. "I need a drink, 'scuse me ladies."
Dee chewed on the edge of the scar that ran up the right side of her face, her eyebrows furrowed. "Well at least I remembered pants," she caught her reflection in the mirror, probed her right cheek with her tongue.
"Yeah you could be walking home in your underwear," Veronica giggled. She gave Dee's ass a hearty slap as she passed by on her way to the door.
"Well I wouldn't want to steal your signature look," Dee threw over her shoulder, causing a cry of laughter from Aprella. In the mirror, Dee could see Veronica flick her off before blowing a kiss and dancing out the door.
"Here sweetie," Aprella appeared next to Deirdra in the mirror. "Sorry, silly I know, but it's all I've got with me," she handed Dee a mess of purple silk, and it took her a moment to figure out it was a scarf.
"Thanks, 'Prella, it's better than nothing. Go get wasted, I'm heading home."
Her friend tossed her arms around Dee's neck, planting a kiss on her scarred cheek. "You did wonderful tonight, darling. London is going to be fabulous." Following suit, Aprella landed a quick blow on Deirdra's rump before skipping out of the dressing room. "Two more months," she sang lightly on her way down the hall.
"Two more months," Dee repeated, staring at her reflection. With a sigh, she wrapped Aprella's scarf around her neck a few times. The thing was definitely designed for fashion over function, but it was better than being completely exposed to the elements. Dee had never before regretted their performance costumes of fishnets, underwear and corsets, but she had also never forgotten clothes to change into afterwards.
She took one step outside and immediately shivered. With a slight growl she rubbed her bare arms briskly, setting off for home. She had just rounded the first corner out of the alley when a cool gust of wind attacked her, and Dee curled in on her self instinctively, a surprised squeak escaping her throat.
It took her a second to register the deep chuckle, but when she did she spun about until she spotted him; leaning against the wall next to her, what looked to be a hand-rolled cigarette hanging from his lips, which were twisted into a smirk and ended...
In a Glasgow smile.
Dee blinked what felt to be several times in a second before she glanced away, blushing. "You startled me," she glanced back to him, flashing an embarrassed grin.
"My apologies," he tilted his head, and blond curly locks seemed to fly everywhere. "Just enjoying the night...for which you appear severely under-dressed I might add," he eyed her with a raised eyebrow, and Dee felt her blush deepen.
"It's part of my costume...I forgot a shirt to change into..." Dee hugged her arms around herself and took a slight step toward this mystery man, her eyes disobeying a direct order from her brain and scrutinizing his scars.
He was looking down as he fished around in his pocket, but glanced up at her a moment later, offering a cigarette. "Hand-rolled natural tobacco," he advertised with a smirk, and Dee instantly had jelly legs. She accepted the smoke with a nod of thanks and he lit it for her. "It's Dee, right?"
Dee nodded as she took her first drag of the day (she had a strict 'no smoking before shows' rule). "That's me," she glanced down the road, to her feet, to her nails—anywhere but his scars. She wasn't going to stare at his scars when she was always getting annoyed of people doing the same to her. But what were the odds?
"Caught the show. You were outstanding."
Dee startled back to reality, "Oh, thank you," she glanced up and caught his eye, was then trapped staring at him stupidly. His gaze was...intense, to say the least. Dee shifted her weight, moving half an inch closer, and once more her blue eyes went rogue and drifted down to his lips. She immediately corrected this, and felt a tingle in her core when she realized that he was examining her scar as well.
They met each other's gaze a moment later and shared a small smile. He was...handsome. Incredibly handsome, scars and all. She was about to ask who he was when he straightened from his resting place against the wall.
"Well, I've got to get going," he informed her apologetically, "but, I hate the thought of such a beauty freezing in the night. So-" he paused and shrugged out of the dark gray jacket he was wearing. "I insist you take my coat."
He held it out to her and Dee blinked, her lips pulling into an amazed smile. "Are you serious?" she half-laughed, her smoke puffing out in a cloud. She took another quick drag and dropped the cigarette, snuffing it out with the tip of her stiletto.
"Ever so, my dear," he responded earnestly, pushing the article into her hands.
"I can't just take your coat," she laughed again. "Don't you need it?"
"Not really. But I come here often, so if you'd like to return it you're more than welcome," he gave a deep bow, "Have a nice night now. Do stay safe."
And then he turned and walked away casually, leaving Dee holding his coat and gaping behind him. A moment later another breeze swept down the street, and Dee shoved her arms into the shelter of the jacket. It was still slightly warm, and it smelled like cologne and...something. Something intoxicating.
She set out for home then, giving in and glancing behind her a few moments later, but finding the only other figure on the street blocks away. She wrapped the jacket around her tightly and hastened her pace, trying not to breathe though her nose.
Who just gives someone their coat? Dee was still thinking. I guess chivalry isn't dead after all. She spent the last six blocks of her walk thinking about his smile. As she let herself into her building, methodically checked her mail, and climbed the three flights to her apartment she played his voice over and over again in her head.
Caught the show. That had stood out in her mind. He caught her show, but didn't bother staying for Muse? Maybe he doesn't like them...she reasoned, then discarded that notion a second later. "No, that's stupid. Who doesn't like Muse?" she asked her front door.
Dee blinked. How long had she just been standing in the hallway in front of her door? She gave a small scoff and reached into the right front pocket of the jacket, looking for her keys out of habit. She realized the moment her hand entered the pocket that her keys weren't in there, but her fingers did brush against something strange...
She did actually take a moment to consider that whatever was in the pocket wasn't hers and was therefore none of her business. However, Dee also wagered that no one in their right mind would just hand over their jacket if they didn't want someone going through the pockets.
Curiosity winning out over morality almost instantly, her fingers grasped the object and pulled it out, eager to inspect...
A chill ran through her body and her heart flew into overdrive. She was only aware of her hands shaking because it made it difficult to read the already sloppy red print on the face of the playing card that was in her fingers. Dee stared at the dancing black jester, framed by the message:
'Next time I want YOUR autograph'
- J
OoOoOoOoOoO
Alrighty, well that's chapter 1 in the second Joker fic I've ever done. I looooove feedback, so please review if you've got the time!
A great big thanks to Emilie Autumn, whose brilliant musical works have inspired much of this plot and my OC Dee's background. The names of Dee's three friends (Aprella, Victoria, Lucina) are all names of a few "Bloody Crumpets" that sing with Emilie Autumn, so thanks to them for having sweet names for me to use!
The two songs I used in this chapter were Gothic Lolita and Misery Loves Company by Emilie Autumn. I highly recommend giving them a listen as it's a very unique type of music, and so so beautiful. Also, be my Facebook friend! My FB link is attached to my 'Homepage' button on my bio!
Finally, a great thank you to The Queen of Mean and ClownQweeny'69 for being so willing to look over my stuff and give me advice! They are both amazing writers, so you should check out their stuff as well! !promo'd!