The plan was simple, go in, shoot a couple of bullets through the ceiling, take rich people's stuff, and leave. Maybe kill a few people, depending on the mood.
It was as much of a plan as he felt like coming up with, similar to his other plans, basic outlines with lots of probabilities of things going wrong. Like his first bank heist, he hadn't expected that man to come out of his glass office with a shotgun, firing. It had been fun though.
He'd gone through with his plan, he came out unhurt, of course, but a few of his goons had been harmed, and were currently taking care of one another.
So what was he doing?
Well, after such fun activities, he was antsy. It was like after sex, where one person might be dead asleep, but the other could run laps for the rest of the night. Yeah, he was the second person in that little scenario. He needed to do something. Get this excess energy out of him.
He should've reapplied the face-grease when he had the chance, most of it having been rubbed off or sweated off during the heist earlier.
It was the middle of the night, so anyone out this late was just asking to be screwed with. So when he found a female figure, or so he guessed from the long hair, he began to quietly skip over, pulling a blade from one of the various spots inside of his jacket, the retractable blade thrust out into it's longest form.
"I don't have any money if that's what you're after," The voice of the woman sitting on the bench, her back to him, startled him a moment, though he quickly collected himself.
"Wha-uh-t's to say I'm after money?" He grinned a grin that only he could sport, though it was dropped when the woman wouldn't even look his way.
"Well, you have a knife, or a switchblade or something, right?" She leaned back comfortably into the bench, her hands crossed over her lap, he noticed as he neared her, keeping a good distance away from her. Something was held in her hand, it looked like a short stick.
She wasn't drop dead gorgeous, like some of the women that Bruce Wayne had sported on his arms when he went to parties, but she was pretty. She wore no make-up, had a few freckles on her lightly tanned face. Her hair hung down in a plain style, bangs nonexistent, being as long as the rest of her hair, a button nose, lips full with youth. Curious thing, though, he noticed, her eyes were shut. Maybe that's why she wasn't panicking yet. He could wait.
He put his knife away, holding his hands up in an 'I surrender' motion. "Look, it's gone now."
She smiled. He scratched his head.
"That's good. Why don't you sit down? Keep me company," She patted the seat beside her, scooting as far over as she could before she bumped the rail. Awkwardly, he sat beside her. This girl… intrigued him, for lack of a better word. Why would a woman, dressed in a dark, knee-length skirt, a white blouse, and suit jacket be sitting on a bench in the Narrows.
"What'cha waitin' forr..?"
"A cab."
In the Narrows? Really? He doubted it would get there. "What happens when it doesn't sshow?"
She let out a light laugh, "I call my friends and pray they answer."
His smile grew, extended by the scars on his face. "Oh? If they don't?"
"I'll ask the man beside me to walk me home and keep me safe from the creepy crawlies of the night," She shook her head, letting another laugh escape her lips. Even if it were a joke, he could hear that she actually meant her words, which weirded him out.
"I ain't such a good guy, kid." She looked younger than he did.
"Really?" She tipped her head to the side in thought before flashing a smile in his direction. "You really don't sound like a bad guy."
"You doh-n't watch much... news, do you?" Click noises, he licks the corners of his mouth.
She shook her head, eyes finally opening at him, looking ahead instead of at him. "Sir, I don't watch a lot of things." She turned her head to him again. He blinked. Whoa. Blind lady. Her eyes were green, though most wouldn't have gotten past the cloudiness that they hid behind.
He cracked up laughing.
She blinked.
"What? Is there something funny?"
"A blind dame in the middle of the nih-ght in the Narrows who hasn't been robbed and is talking with me! And there I thought I heard all the bad jokes!"
Obviously, Joker isn't mine to be owned, nor is Batman, or else things would've been a lot different.
This was made out of pure boredom and I sorta forgot about it, then remembered, so here it is!
Sorry if you don't like it.
It's a one-shot, for now... If I ever feel like writing more for this, then maybe. Probably not, though.
Comments appreciated.