Murdering, murdering, just for fun.
- Live or Die
Long, elegant fingers parted the blinds of the kitchen window and black eyes widened at the glittering world outside of the servant's quarters, so different from the stuffy, grimy kitchen full of waiters in black tuxedoes and long-legged waitresses in skimpy black cocktail dresses.
Even from here, Selena Kyle could see the diamonds that glittered on wrists of the wives of millionaires, floating across the lawn in designer eveningwear. She could see them laugh and twist the pearls on their necks as if they were just pieces of string, easily replaceable in case they tore and scattered.
Laughter jingled and champagne flutes chimed, intermingling with the whine of baroque violins and boring conversation.
She was close enough to touch that sparkling world, where money rained from the sky and the earth spat out gold. She could breathe in that metallic, papery smell of cash, tainted by Chanel No. 5, could feel it but never actually touch it.
And she hated them for it.
Every single one.
They were like leeches, lighting cigars with hundred dollar bills, sucking down profit like a shot in a glass, leaving barely a drop for the scavengers below them.
All her life Selina was a scavenger. From her childhood in the orphanage to an unsteady adulthood working lousy jobs serving the very people she hated – and grudgingly envied.
"You're not getting paid to stand there."
Selina dropped the blinds.
One of those said leaches, a fat, balding toad and heir to an oil fortune pushed past the double doors of the kitchen, demanding more cheese-and-spinach rolls. He came to stand behind Selina, so close that she could smell the dank scent of wine on his stale breath, and feel the silk of his Hugo Boss against her bare arms.
"Though I could…uh…arrange for you to earn your share lying down, my dear."
Selina's breath caught in her throat. "Sir, I should get back to work."
He ignored her, and she gasped when he put his sweaty hands on her hips, his meaty fingers digging into her waist, travelling lower.
"Sir, please." She wanted to spit at him, claw his eyes out like a cat. But she couldn't afford it now. She couldn't lose this job. How would she pay rent? What would she eat?
She threw a desperate glance at the kitchen staff, but they were a few yards away, engrossed in their work and hidden by the steam.
His disgusting hand rubbed the spot below her breasts, and Selina grit her teeth to keep from screaming. "Sir, please stop."
The double doors ahead of them swung out violently and the leech jumped back as if he were electrified. Without a glance to see who entered, Selina vanished into the kitchen steam as fast as her high heels could carry her.
She stopped, suddenly, and a low cackle rose through the steam.
"Hello there, Chubby. Are you the host?"
Curious, Selina stepped behind the doorway to the wine cellar and peered around the edge.
The devil stood there, in purple.
Selina didn't know how else to describe it. For it was an it, a vision not a man. He had paint on his face. Red, and black, and white. Green hair fell into his eyes. He looked like a clown, but there was nothing comical or funny about him.
He was all diabolical, and she felt a rush between her shoulder blades.
The leech, fat with blood and money, opened his mouth, "What are you doing here? This is a black-tie event. How did you get passed security?
Even behind his thick makeup the man looked bored. "I take it you're not."
There was a flash and like a magician, the clown made a large, polished butcher knife materialize into his gloved, purple hands. "See, I just hate wasting time." He rolled his eyes at the now-stuttering leech. "You know how it is. I could have saved a couple seconds if you hadn't been standing there, causing me to…uh…mistake your identity, per se. Then you wouldn't have had my attention, and I would've been on my way. I think I deserve to have a little fun as compensation for my wasted…uh…time. Don't you, Chubby?"
The fat man stumbled backwards. "What, do you want money? Is that it? How much?"
The tall man in the purple suit through back his green head and laughed, I high, metallic chuckle that hurt her ears while both disturbing and intriguing her.
Covered by the noise of their cooking, the kitchen staff remained blissfully unaware of what was happening; only Selina could see the sweat on the leech's forehead as he pathetically tried to look courageous in front of the strange, eerie man.
The man stopped laughing abruptly, the red smear across his mouth stretching as he gave a silent smile. Then, like a flash of lightning, the silver blade of the butcher knife disappeared again, but this time, into the bloated stomach of the quivering leech.
If she wasn't so shocked, Selina would've expected him to pop like a balloon, but instead, the man screamed for half a nanosecond, only to be cut off by the taller man's fist, lodging itself in his mouth.
"Shh…shh…shh…" the clown mocked, grinning again as he twisted the knife in a several times, causing the lecherous man to squeal like the pig he was.
After a few moments, the old man stopped making any sounds at all, and the clown yanked out his knife like a sword from a stone, watching him crumble to the tiled floor without interest.
Selina felt sick. It was like a horror movie, and she heard herself gasp.
The clown's head snapped up.
He did too.
Selina's black eyes widened and she stumbled through the door of the wine cellar, trying to close it before he advanced on her. She threw back the heavy door but it made a sickening sound as it banged against metal.
The clown had shoved his knife between the door and the frame.
Selina drew in a breath of stale air but her lips were met by the cold leather of his purple gloves. She felt tears prick her eyes as he stared down at her with his horrific, painted mask. She knew she was going to die. If not by his blade then surely by her own fear.
"Well hello beautiful." He gave her a mockery of a charming smile, his white nose inches away from her own. She could see a long bump of scars outline his Chelsea grin.
She tried to squirm away when he pressed the blade of his knife to the smooth column of her throat.
"Shh…shh…shh…" He whispered, like he told the man. But this time he made his voice low, and if she closed her eyes, she could imagine someone else saying that to her, and it would have been deeply seductive, not scary. "I'm not going to hurt you…a lot."
She inhaled through her nose, and found that she could smell blood on him.
The rawness of it was strangely intoxicating.
"Look at me." He murmured, licking his lips, and she stared up at him, exposing her throat, looking blindly at his makeup, terrified to do something that would annoy him and end up sprawled on the floor like that leech. "Don't you know that spying is not polite?"
She felt him move the tip of his knife, lightning-fast again, once, twice, and winced as the skin on her neck ripped. It was a shallow cut, but she felt drops of pulsating blood ooze from it like it was deep.
He moved the knife from his throat and she watched him shove it back inside her pocket, placing his now-free hand on the wall beside her head.
Selina had been on the streets long enough to recognize an opportunity when she saw one, and an idea for escape smiled down at her in the form of his red-smeared lips.
Like she did everything in life, she would do this quickly, and without thought.
She threw both hands up in the air and he jerked his up, trying to catch her by the wrists. The distraction threw him off guard long enough for her to shove a heel into his shoe and bounce up to bite him, hard, on the lip, releasing once she felt a gush of blood where his cells exploded. Rounding out her shoulder she threw her body into him, catching her balance before she toppled to the cold, hard ground with him.
She ran for the door, but he threw out a leg and caught her by the ankle, sending her flailing her arms and wobbling. He reached up, and with a lazy flick of his wrist, pushed her down on top of him. Rolling them both over, he pressed his hard weight into the softness of her womanly body.
A drop of blood fell from his lip and on her chin.
"You've got some fight in you, I like that." He grinned, stretching her bite marks even more. Her whole body trembled beneath him as she stared at him with wide eyes. His smile grew impossibly broader. "Now normally I love me some good old-fashioned BDSM, but I've got aaaaa…prior engagement to attend to and you've already made me fashionably late." He pushed himself off the ground and reached for something in his jacket. Selina froze and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the reappearance of the knife. "So if you'd like to continue our little…frolic later, drop me a line, Beautiful, I could use something a little refreshing against old Batty."
A piece of card paper bounced off her cheek, but when Selina opened her eyes, he was gone.
All that was left of his presence was the blood on her neck and the small white rectangle he threw at her. Selina picked it up with shaking fingers, squinting at an address that was scribbled on it in fervent, spidery handwriting.
It was a Joker card.