A/N: Greetings! And congratulations to ME for another year on this wonderful site with all you amazing people. For those of you who know me and my writing style, I hope that this comes as something just a little different and surprising to you. Maybe.
And for those of you who don't know me...by the end of this...you will.
This story is sort of a triple cross between the Batman/Suicide Squad universe, the Fruits Basket universe, and my own original story. I had a difficult time deciding between the Batman universe and Suicide Squad universe because...this story is almost entirely motivated and driven by the soundtrack song "Purple Lamborghini." And I recently saw the movie for my New Year's celebration and it was simply WONDERFUL! If you have not yet seen the movie, I highly recommend it.
Also...this story contains characters from my saga including "Insufferable Bastards," "The Irresistible Force Paradox," "Fire And Ice," and "Roll Bounce." Though this is not really a part of that saga/arc, and I don't necessarily think you will need to read these to enjoy the unfolding story, it may make the characters make more sense.
Finally...I wrote this as a one-shot. Honestly...I did. But the whole thing ended up being so fantastically long that I had to split it up. So...without further ado, let the games begin.
"Honestly." This came whispered in an airy, almost effeminate lilt caressed in the faintest makings of a Japanese accent along practically flawless English. "I have no idea how you convinced me to do this."
"Please." Another...colder voice scoffed with a small snort of deprecation that dispersed the thin veil of cigarette smoke. "There was no convincing needed. When I told you what I was planning you practically begged me to come along."
"I should have you know I've never begged for anything in my life." These words came haughty in swift rebuke. "It is beneath me."
"Of course it is..."
"Honestly," The man's soft voice lifted in schooled irritation. "why must you always be so insufferably argumentative?"
"Because I know you like it, babe." This came a flat, pithy, straight faced retort to the man's question.
"You know nothing of the sort." The man bit back in growing vexation.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself in order to sleep at night." The other conceded passively along the makings of an amused smirk and drag of his cigarette.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I sleep just fine, thank you."
"...mmhm..."
Had either man been asked what had brought them to this moment. To such great lengths and extremes. There would have most likely been two very different answers. One might have responded that this was merely a statement. The other...might possibly have claimed simply being bored.
But...if they were to be asked what brought them together...?
To call what they had a 'friendship' would have been deeply misleading. No. They weren't friends. But to have called them enemies would have been a gross understatement. Because the mutual, violently destructive hatred they held for each other ran deeper than any mortal man's hate for his enemy.
What they had.
What they shared.
Was an alarmingly toxic sense of competition. Constantly attempting to outdo the other in a never ending game of Russian Roulette. Where both men knew the other's trigger, and willingly handed over the shared revolver. Daring each other to squeeze down and take the shot. They fed off each others rage and hostility...which made them dangerous when on their own.
But...together?
Together...they were lethal.
And it spelled misfortune in the truest sense of the world when they had discovered just how effective they were together...when a united front.
"Are we clear about the plan?" This question came a low, cold whisper from lifeless lips as they exhaled and dispersed another screen of smoke.
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"For the last time, yes." The man snapped in that sophisticated tone of his.
Precise and polished, just like his outward presentation. A beautiful facade that covered a very ugly monster.
"Good." The other quipped through a pointed pause and the drag of his cigarette. "Any mistakes, and it's your fucking ass along with theirs." And the man simply gave the soft cluck of his tongue before his delicate lips pursed into the lascivious simper of a smile to his partner, knowing full well that this was no mere vacuous threat.
To doubt this man's words would be to carelessly forfeit his own life.
A small moment of silence. The calm before the storm as they sat together in the car. Another soft drag of the cigarette and the release of a cleansing sigh through a perfect, slender nose manifested that ice cold voice once more.
"Are we ready?"
Another pause of silence met this question as the man gracefully contorted his lean, breathtakingly beautiful body in the seat, finally grasping the matching items he had been looking for. And that same mischievous smile played along his lips at the other's reaction to his token gift.
"...really..?" And the softest, chimelike chuckle pulled itself from the man's delicate lips.
"You don't like them?" The man cooed, playfully waving one of the objects in his hand.
"It's a bit theatrical, don't you think?" This fell flatly from thin lips held in a taut line.
"Well, that's quite the point." Lips held an alluring smile of amusement as a cold, calculating gaze regarded this gift. "Besides...you promised."
"Promised what, exactly?" This came dubious to the man's claim with the raise of a well groomed brow.
"That if I gave you something you would make sure to put it to use." The man purred as another puffed sigh passed through a thin, slender nose.
"Fine." The concession was murmured quietly before the small twist of a caveat followed. "But I want the other one." A soft chuckle interlaced this demand as that cool voice continued. "It suits me better."
"Hm..." The man hummed, happily complying and handing over the chosen gift. "I agree... Tragedy is more befitting of your temperament, my little Orestes."
Spared a frigid, threatening glance, the man said nothing further of his adversary's...complex...lest he squeeze this proverbial trigger a little too lightly. And the two exited the car as the doors were closed in tandem. A vehicle the man's partner prided himself on owning. A Lamborghini, though the man had heard it referred to as something else. A 'douche mobile' was it? The man still didn't quite understand this euphemism, but supposed that this name fit as well, judging by the response it had gained from his companion.
Though both men seemed so similar in appearance...both sporting a polished, sophisticated look...the two men none-the-less seemed to each hold their own individual sense of style and flare.
The man himself possessed thick, stick straight inky black hair that framed a pale, angel's face with a sweet cherub smile. His exotic, alluring, Asiatic features further set him apart form his Caucasian counterpart. And the expensive looking black silk button down and blood red tie he wore came underneath a finely tailored suit jacked. And the well fit, personally tailored top and jacket came paired with crisp black business trousers, finished with smooth leather shoes. Though his partner held a similarly classy style, there was just something that set him apart from the man.
Even the casual, almost strategic mussing of his own inky black hair could not hide the fact that behind this beautiful exterior lay a ruthless wolf. Having also dressed himself in an expensively tailored suit paired with opaque, designer Ray Ban sun glasses. The black fitted vest he sported in lieu of a jacket wrapped itself possessively around his slender waist. The sleeves of his white dress shirt came casually rolled to just above the elbows to give him a slightly more personable look than the man standing next to him. To set him apart. And this ensemble had only been further refined and personalized in the simple fact that he had forgone a tie for himself, having left the few top buttons of his dress shirt unfastened to reveal the delicate gold cross that hung from his neck. But this he seemed to sport with the effectiveness and power of any tie.
Snuffing out his cigarette along the sidewalk, the effeminate, Asiatic man's more disgruntled counterpart gave a small sigh.
"You sure this is the place?" He asked, his gaze falling along the unassuming brick building with the tacky neon sign displaying the even more pretentious name of 'The Ha Ha Hacienda.'
"If the information you provided me was correct, then yes." The man replied as he himself held the small playing card he had been given by his nemesis, his other hand holding the other half of the gift set he had offered. "I pay my sources far too much for them to mislead me." And his counterpart gave a small nod of confidence to this statement.
"So tell me again of this man's transgression..." The man murmured curiously, his gaze held transfixed along the calling card of the Joker.
"He's been interfering in my business." This came a cool response before a small, malicious smirk of a smile laced thin perfect lips. "And you know full well nobody tells me what I can and can't do."
"Mm, yes..." The man purred, his memory refreshed by having attempted a similar eradication tactic with his adversary when he had invaded the man's city of Tokyo with his affairs.
...it had been...unsuccessful...
"That's part of your charm, I think." The man mused, having grown to respect his foe's persistence and refusal to back down, though this trait had caused more than its fair share of problems between the two.
Because neither one of them knew exactly how to accept being told no.
But...the man had to admit that he still found himself just a bit baffled as to why his arch nemesis had desired to establish himself in a city such as this. Gotham City.
...why here..?
Fidgeting contemplatively with the card in his delicate hand, the man supposed that if he were to give his adversary's motives any amount thought at all, it would probably have been simply because he could.
"Look at this place..." This came a cold utterance, filled and dripping with disdain. "Who does this jackass think he is, anyway? Calling himself The Joker..." And the man listened, finding himself having to agree with his mortal enemy. "This place is a fucking shit hole." These words were as flat as they were harshly blunt, a part of his adversary's personality that the man had needed time to grow accustom to.
...but he was right...
This establishment was...pretensions... And it lacked tact and sophistication.
"When we're done trashing it to send a message, I want to burn the whole fucking thing to the ground." And the man found an almost erotic moan coaxed from his lips at this declaration.
"I do so love it when you talk this way." He purred, having truly come to appreciate the man's propensity for violence despite his disturbingly even countenance.
"...I know you do..." Was the only, pithy response he received as his foe removed and discreetly pocketed his designer glasses. "Ready..?"
"Absolutely."
"Do you trust me?" The man met his partner's gaze and the seriousness of his expression.
"Would I have armed myself so heavily if I did?" And he was met with a sharp snort of amusement and that malicious twitch of a smile.
"Excellent."
And the two donned their matching masks to conceal their faces, the theatrical representations of Greek comedy and tragedy, as they slowly approached the old, dilapidated brick building.
"Do you think we should knock?" This came a cold murmur underneath the mask and the slight cant of the head, to which the man loosed attractive chimelike laughter.
"Mm..." The man purred from underneath his own mask in consideration. "I suppose it would be terribly rude of us not to." He conceded to this as they paused at the door. "Shall I?" This caused yet another small, deprecating snort.
"By all means. Go for it." This came coolly murmured in a slightly muffled voice as two deathly firearms manifested in each of his adversaries hands. "I know how you just love formality." With that, the man kicked as hard as he could along the dilapidated door of the seemingly run down establishment.