Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dark Knight characters, but I wish I did =D
Warning: There is also a very extensive use of profanities, so this shouldn't be viewed by the younger generations.
Thank you and please enjoy!
THIS STORY IS GOING TO UNDERGO SOME REWRITES AS I FIX MY MANY PREVIOUS MISTAKES AND THEN I WILL ADD A NEW CHAPTER AFTER I HAVE FINISHED.
This is stupid. Why am I here again? Oh yeah, 'cause I'm part of this stupid gang! I roll my icy eyes to the ceiling in search of a better reason, but find none. I cross my arms. I can't believe they convinced me into coming here. I was out of my damned mind! I break my gaze on the crusty ceiling and look at the group of men positioned at a gigantic, rectangular table. Each man was here for the same ridiculous reason. Money. Money, money, money. That's all everything was centered around nowadays! Nothing more, nothing less. Maroni had dragged me with him to this rundown, dirty, old building where, unknown to me at the time, Maroni was meeting about ten to fifteen other Mob members. The only one, though, who was of real importance was this really, really rich man named Lau or Lou or something like that. He was the reason they were all here, and the money of course.
Maroni, accompanied with some of his gang and I, had shown up some time ago and were waiting for the last person, the Chechen. When he finally showed up he just about sat down before two muscular men, who I swear appeared out of nowhere, came in carrying a large TV between them and set it down on the end of the table.
"The hell is this?" one of Maroni's men questions angrily. Yeah, what was this? Where the hell was this Lau guy? Don't tell me this is a no show. I'll be pissed. And sure enough, the TV turned on and smack dab in the middle of its screen was this Chinese guy. Lau. Right then and there I completely lost interest in whatever the hell he was saying. I didn't care. I didn't give a damn about him or his money. All I cared about was the fact that this asshole had somehow gotten Maroni to drag me here with him for no reason, especially when Lau wasn't here in person. And all of this time I could have been out doing something other then 'business', as Maroni put it.
I should be furious, and I am. But, at the the same time I can't be because stupid me came willingly. Well, willingly enough. I sigh. I just don't have the energy righ now. I've been so tired lately running errands for Maroni and the rest of The Mob seemingly with no end.
I think Lau just finished his little speech and must have said something funny because I hear one of the men laughing slowly. My eyes quickly scan the room and apparently everyone is just as confused as I am. Whoever is laughing, is not in this room. The door on the opposite side of the room loudly bangs against its hinges and the slow, drawn out laughter fills the room completely. The laughter's owner leisurely makes his way from the back of the room, stepping from the dimness into the light of the overhanging fluorescents, and continues forward. At that very moment I instantly notice one immediate thing about this man. Scars. That, and a face done up in grease paint that makes him look like a demented clown.
"And I thought my jokes were bad," he says darkly, turning his head to the side and giving the men at the table a sidelong glare. I see some of the men rise apprehensively from the table, unsure what to do.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off?" Gambol questions, motioning to one of his goons next to him.
"How 'bout a magic trick?" the clown-man states. Gambol's face is priceless. It looks like a true WTF face. But I quickly turn my attention back to the clown as he slams a pencil into the table.
"I'm gonna make this pencil disappear," clown-man says as Gambol's goony heads toward him. As soon as the goony gets within three feet of his target the clown-man, quick as a flash, grabs the unsuspecting man behind the head and wrist and smashes the mans forehead onto the pencil.
"TA-DAAH!" the clown sings triumphantly, releasing the dead man from his grasp as he quickly sits in the nearest convenient seat at the head of the table.
"It'ssssss, ahhh, it's gone," he sighs, looking around the room from one face to the next, then intently at mine. Those eyes. I'm not afraid of this man, but I feel like he is looking right through me. Under his intense gaze I can't hold back a shiver and see a little glimmer of laughter dance in his eyes.
"Oh, and by the way, the suit, it wasn't cheap" he says, leaning back in the chair. He continues without waiting for a response. "You 'ought to know, you bought it," he remarks, readjusting the lapels of his dark purple coat. Gambol stands from his seat, surely ready to smash this clown's lights out. The guy sitting around the corner of the table from the clown speaks.
"Sit. I want to hear proposition," the Chechen says in his heavy Russian accent, leaning back in his seat and waving his hand out to the clown-man adjacent from him. Gambol looks at the clown. The clown just glances from Gambol to the Chechen, while pointing at the Russian as his tongue glides over his bottom lip. Gambol glares spitefully at the clown, but sits down.
"Now, lets wind the clocks back a year." He glances up to the ceiling. "These cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you." the clown says, his eyes rolling from the ceiling to look around the room. "I mean, what happened? Your balls drop off? Hm?" I can't stiffle my laugh. Now all disapproving eyes are on me. Oops.
"What?! I thought it was funny!" I snap as I glare back at them with equal force. "And true," I mumble under my breath, then glance at the clown. He is looking at me with a mocking grin, accentuated by his scars, while pure amusement dances in his eyes. I just smile back at him. He then goes back to talking.
"You see a guy like me-"
"A freak," Gambol interrupts harshly. Everyone laughs.
"A guy like me," the clown continues but then stops and makes a loud 'click' with his tongue. "Look, listen," he smacks his lips, "I know why you chose to have your little," he feigns a cough, "group therapy sessions in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night." He smacks his lips again "The Batman. See, Batman has shown Gotham your true colors, unfortunately. Dent, he's just the beginning," he admits, waving his arm away. "And as for, uh, the television's so-called 'plan'. The Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him and make him squeal!" the clown says as he clenches his fist, causing his gloves to squeak. "I know the squealers when I see them, and…" clown-man smackes his lips and points accusingly at Lau on the television. Lau looks scared shitless. I see him cover the camera with his hand and then the screen goes black.
"What do you propose?" the Chechen questions.
"It's simple. We, uh, kill the Batman," the clown says, pushing a lock of hair out of his face. Everyone laughs again.
"If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already?" Maroni quips.
"If you're good at something never do it for free," the clown says, pointing at Maroni while tilting his head down and looking up at him at an angle.
"How much you want?" the Chechen asks, leaning back in his chair.
"Uh, half," the clown states blankly. Laughter again.
"You're crazy," Gambol whispers to the clown.
"I'm not," he speaks lowly "No, I'm not-uh," clown-man says, rolling his lips together as he waits for everyone to quiet down. He glares at Gambol, but addresses the men. "If we don't deal with this now," he sticks his arms up and shrugs, the corners of his mouth pulling down, "soon little, uh, Gambol here, won't be able to get a nickel for his Grandma," the clown taunts, pissing Gambol off with a hint of laughter in his voice and a smirk plastered on his face. Gambol slams his fist on the table.
"Enough from the clown!" Gambol roars. He explods out of his seat and storms toward the clown-man. Said man rises quickly from his seat and pulls open the side of his coat exposing a bunch of explosives strung inside.
"Ahh tah-tah-tah. Lets not blow this out of proportion," the clown says, waving his arm out in front of himself with the chord to the bombs tied to a keychain ring around his thumb. Everyone rises from their seats. I don't. I cross my arms and give the clown a look that says 'I dare you'. He smirks and glances back to Gambol.
"You think you can steal from us and just walk away?" Gambol growls.
"Yeah," clown-man responds innocently.
"I'm puttin the word out. 500 grand for this clown dead. A million alive, so I can teach him some manners first," Gambol keeps up his rant. Damn you're in deep now Gambol. Well, it was nice knowing ya. The clown-man glares grimly at Gambol as he goes to point at him, but stops and turns his attention back to the other men.
"Alright, so listen. Why don't you give me a call me when ya wanna start taking things a little more seriously. Here's. My. Card," clown-man says, producing a card from his back pocket and lays it on the end of the table. He then starts to back out of the room. "Mmm mmm," he hums, waving around the string that is still tied to the ring around his thumb to the explosives in his coat. When he backs up to the door he swiftly kicks the door open behind him, steps out, and disappears down the hall. Gambol glares at the spot where the clown had been only seconds ago and slams his fist on the table. I too stare at the spot where clown-man had been and can't shake this gut feeling that I'd be seeing him again. And little did I know that the next time I see him, my life will chang. Forever.
It has been two days since the Joker, who's name I'd discovered after reading about him in Gotham Times, had shown his face to any of The Mob members. Everyday I wasted my time hanging around the guys, hoping the clown would show up. But so far, he hadn't. I decided that today I would dwindle my time away by playing pool with Gambol. Everything was going well until two of Gambol's men came into the room and made an announcement.
"Yo Gambol, there's somebody here for you. They say they've just killed the Joker," the one man says. "They've brought the body," the other man speaks as the two of them step out of the way as four somebodys enter the room, with two of Gambol's men carrying a body packaged in plastic garbage bags. The men place the body onto the pool table and Gambol steps up beside the table with me close at his side. He reaches out and rips away part of the bags, unveiling a scarred, smiling face. The Joker's eyes are shut and he isn't moving or breathing as far as I can tell. Something's not right here. It seems too easy, I think, gently poking the Joker's face as I glance to the four men who are gazing around the room. Gambol leaves the side of the pool table and slowly walks towards the killers. I remove my finger from the Joker's cheek and go to stand next to Gambol.
"So, dead, that's five hundred," Gambol informs the men as he steps to the front of the pool table with me slightly off to his side. Suddenly, as fast as a lightning strike, the 'supposed dead clown' comes to life as he flings knives into Gambol's two men on either side of the table and sits bolt upright.
"How 'bout alive?" the Joker says, securely grabbing Gambol behind the base of the head as Gambol spins to face the clown, who now presses a knife to Gambol's lips. The four men who had claimed to have killed the Joker now have Gambol's three men down on their knees at gunpoint. I stand rigid as one of the men takes out another handgun and points it at me. Dammit. The one day I don't have my handgun.
"You wanna know how I got these scars?" the Joker whispers to Gambol, then nods his head quickly, making the decision for Gambol as he rolls his eyes to the ceiling and takes in a deep breath of air. "My father, wasss… a drinker," his tongue flashes out "And a fiend. And one night he goes off crazier than usual," his tongue flashes again. "Mommy gets the kitchen knife and defend herself," he shakes his head vigorously, "He doesn't like that… Not. One. Bit." He smacks his lips. "So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me and he says 'Why so serious?' ", tongue again, "He comes at me with the knife-'Why so serious-uh?' Sticks the blade in my mouth, 'Lets put a smile on that face-uh!' And.…." I see the Joker look past Gambol's shoulder at one of the men held at gunpoint. "Why so serious?" he asks and then slices Gambol's mouth, who in return gurgles blood and goes limp. I shudder as I watch the Joker drop Gambol's lifeless body carelessly. The Joker jerks the garbage bags off of himself and kicks them away.
"Now," the clown talks, walking around the back of the pool table, "our operation is small, but," he heads toward the pool sticks "there's a lot of potential," he snatches up a pool stick " for aggressive expansion!" the clown says waving his arms up wildy. He steps in front of Gambol's men and I. "So which of you fine gentlemen would like to join our team," he sings, looking among Gambol's men and not at me. "There's only one spot open right now, so we're gonna have," the Joker snaps the pool stick sharply over his knee and observes the broken halves "tryouts." He picks the sharpest half and tosses it on the ground in front of Gambol's men. "Make it fast," the clown whisperes as he steps through the group of men, snatches me by the arm as he goes, and walks out of the room with the other half of the pool stick still firmly in his other hand, partly resting on his shoulder.
I try to jerk my arm out of his grasp as he half drags me, but to my dismay I find that he had a good, firm hold of me.
"I can walk on my own ya know, so would you let go of my arm?"
"No can do toots," he says with a smirk as he continues to drag me along. I try to dig the backs of my shoes into the floor, but the Joker hastily pulls my arm so that I am jerked forward and then he just lets go of my arm. He just lets it go.
My body continues to fly forward as I stumble crazy past him, but luckily I regain my balance. When I turn around to face him, he had dropped the pool stick and is doubled over with his hand out on the wall next to him to give him some support as he laughs hysterically. I glare at him. He looks at me and cackles even harder as he clutches his stomach. "Whoopsy. My bad," he manages to say in-between laughs as he wipes away the little tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes, smudging some of the dark paint around his eyes. I continue to attempt to shoot laser beams out of my eyes as the Joker calms himself down to a few giggles, brushes himself off, and stalks toward me. I panick and glance around for the closest weapon, not because I was scared, just because I had no idea what he was going to do to me. Ok, maybe I am a little scared. He chuckles darkly.
"What's the matter kiddo? Ya look nervous… Is it the scars?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. He is now within three feet of me. The close proximity of his body to mine is causing my stress level to skyrocket. I am on high alert, trying to anticipate his next move. I look him straight in the eye.
"No," I say between clenched teeth, "It's not the scars." He looks at me funny.
"Mm hmm, of course it's not-uh," he says as he rolls his eyes. He looks over me. "You wanna know how I got 'em?"
"I already heard how you got your scars when you told Gambol. I was standing right there smart one," I hiss. I didn't want to, but I am stressed and tired. I don't function so well when the two are mixed. The Joker bares down on me, grabbing my wrists and pinning me between himself and the wall. I squirm and try to knee him so he will get off, but he overpowers me and I fail. He leans into me so that our faces are so close that our noses almost touch. He reeks of gasoline, gunpowder, and faintly of blood. It is very intoxicating.
"You've got quite a mouth there," he says as his tongue smoothly glides over his bottom lip, so close it almost glides over mine. "I wonder what else you could do with it besides talk back," he says darkly as his eyes take on a devious glint. His eyes trail over my face, then land on my lips. I swallow hard and manag to keep my voice unwavering as I speak.
"Don't even think about it," I growl. He smirks at me.
"Who said anything about thinking?" he asks as he glances around the room. "Not me," he says, pointing at himself "And not you," he continues, pointing to me. "I don't need to think. I just do things," he speaks with hand gestures.
"Whatever. Why am I here with you anyway? Why didn't you leave me back in the other room?" He looks to the ceiling as if the answer is written there.
"Why?" he questions, still looking at the ceiling then rolls his eyes around the room again. He mouths the word a couple more times like he is trying to come up with an answer. "So what you're saying, is that you wanna know why I, uh, brought you with me?" He looks at me intently and smacks his lips. "I took you because you looked quite interesting, and," he pauses dramatically, "you're mine now," he growls as he glares darkly at me. "You're my new pet," he states matter-of-factly as he harshly pats my head then ruffles my hair. I scoff.
"Says who?" Bad choice of words. The Joker grabs me by the neck, jerks me forward and then slams me back against the wall, knocking the wind right out of me. I gasp for air as he laughs hysterically, causing his grip to tighten on my throat. I cough and try, with all my might, to push him off me, but it works to no avail. My vision starts to wane as black spots appear and grow bigger and bigger, dancing before my eyes. The last thing I remember before I black-out is the Joker's mocking face and his maniacal laughter.
WHAM! I woke up as my body collided with the inside wall of a fast-moving vehicle. "What the-" WHAM! My body collided with the other side of the van as it careened around a corner. I heard a high-pitched giggle. His giggle. I groaned as I picked myself up off the floor and carefully crawled to the front of the van to grab onto the back of the front seats to keep myself centered. I barely managed to hold onto the seat as the vehicle took another turn at a 90 degree angle going about 70 mph. I heard the Joker cackle again and saw him turn his head to face me, his eyes straying from the road for a dangerously long amount of time.
"Better buckle-up kitten," he chuckled as he returned his eyes back to the road and threw the van into a hairpin turn and, of course, my body collided with the side of the van once more. This asshole told me to buckle-up, but knew I would have no time to do so. Fucking jackass. Then my body was thrown forward and violently slammed into the back of the seats as the van came to a halting stop. I heard the Joker cackle, jump out of the van, slam his door, and then open the back doors. I felt gloved hands around my waist and was thrown over the Joker's shoulder. He slammed the vehicle doors, took a few steps, placed me on my feet in front of himself, flashed a feral grin, then spun me around.
"Welcome home kitten," he sang happily as my eyes fell upon an abandoned, run-down warehouse. My jaw nearly dropped to the ground. There was no way in hell that I was gonna live here, especially with him. And what was it with the nickname? The Joker pushed me forward towards the front doors.
"God, give me a break would ya," I grumbled under my breath. This didn't go unheard to the Joker and he just giggled like a little schoolgirl. I really wasn't in the mood to be pushed around anymore because 1) my body was beaten and sore from the car ride from hell and 2) I was on the verge of beating the shit out of this clown, but I had an eerie feeling that he would enjoy it. I rubbed my sore side with one hand as I pushed open the steel front door with the other. When I stepped into the room fully I was actually surprised. It wasn't half as bad as the outside. It was a large room with three couches, an old television set up on a shabby T.V. stand, a pool table, and a metal table in the corner with a few chairs surrounding it. But it was all empty. Off to the right was a stairwell that went to the upper floors, to the left a hallway, and in the very back of the room was a doorway. Where the hell are his henchmen? I cast a confused look over at the clown who had his hands behind his back, smiling happily as he rocked back and forth on his feet. He seemed not to notice me until he finally glanced at me.
"Oh them? I sent them on a little, uh, shopping spree," he said.
"Shopping for what?"
"For things you shop for." I smacked my forehead. Talking to him was like talking to yourself in the mirror. He chuckled as he stepped next to me and casually slid his arm around my shoulders. "Hey, look at it this way kitten, we can spend some time getting to know each other. How 'bout it hmm?" he asked, his warm breath tickling my ear. I didn't answer him as I shrugged my shoulders in an attempt to get his arm off of me.
"How 'bout you get off of me hmm?" I said in a mocking voice of his own. He smirked and felt his lips on my ear.
"Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?" his lips brushed my ear.
"Y-Yes it does," I faltered as my face flushed slightly.
"Here, let me help you get comfy then," he said then pushed me onto the couch and straddled me. "Feel better?"
"I'd feel just damned dandy if you got the fuck off of me," I snapped angrily. He smacked his lips and I saw him reach into one of his coat pockets and pull out a switchblade. Fearing that he would slash at me, I brought my arms up in front of myself as a shield, but with his free hand he got a hold of both of my wrists and pinned my arms over my head. Shit, shit, shit. I thought about trying to thrash around, but I remembered that he had a knife and one of us, probably me, would get a nasty cut. Not that I was afraid of getting a little cut but, even though I hated to admit it, I was afraid of dieing. I hated my fear. It made me feel weak. I was snapped from my thoughts when I felt cold steel against my lips.
"Again with that language of yours. I noticed you have a very ugly mouth for such a pretty face," the Joker said as he stroked my cheek with the blade, then slipped it between my lips. "And you know what else I noticed? I don't think you smile enough," he said as he brought the blade to tug at the corner of my mouth. "How 'bout I give you a permanent one," he said, his question sounding more like a statement. "Come on, smile for me," he growled as the cold blade tugged harder at the corner of my lips. A coppery taste had slightly filled my mouth. "Do it!" he bellowed, the blade now painfully pulling at the corner of my mouth. I had no other choice but to smile. As I did, the Joker grinned a hellish grin, but kept the knife in my mouth. "At a girl," he said as he grinned, patted my cheek, then removed the blade and flashed it in front of my smiling face so that I could see my reflection. "See how much more beautiful you are when you smile?" I glanced to the switchblade and saw nothing more than my icy eyes staring back at me.
"Yeah, whatever," I mumbled. I just wanted him gone and maybe if I did what he said he'd leave me be.
"Aw, what's a matter sweets? Something wrong?" the clown questioned, his voice filled with fake concern. I sighed.
"I'm just tired," I mumbled. The Joker smiled an evil smile that I did not like one bit as he leaned into me. I thought he was going to try to kiss me so I turned my head away from him, but it hadn't been my lips that he was aiming for.
"Why don't we move this party to the bedroom," he growled into my ear, his hot breath falling on my neck. The Joker chuckled darkly as I felt the slick softness of a wet tongue glide down my neck. I shivered and tried to ignore the growing tension in my lower abdomen as the Joker licked back up my neck to growl into my ear. "Lets have some fun-uh."
"Thanks, but no thanks," I said quickly, shifting myself to try to get out from under him. The Joker just hardened his grip on my wrists and continued his assault on my neck, licking and biting it fiercely. This pushed me over the edge. "GET OFF!" I shouted angrily as I thrashed wildly, trying to get my arms free so I could hook him in the jaw. He responded by releasing my wrists, threading his gloved fingers through my hair, then yanking it up harshly. I instinctively brought both of my hands to grab his forearms and push him away, but he was far stronger than me.
"A little fight in ya. I like that," the Joker said admiringly. I growled deep in my throat.
"You haven't seen anything yet." I took my chance and lunged at the Joker, causing us both to fall backwards off the couch onto the floor, with our skulls colliding in the process. I landed on top of him, straddling him at the waist. The Joker just laid beneath me cackling hysterically as if he thought this was one big comedy. That was it. I was tired of this irksome clown and I was determined to shut him up. I pulled my fist back taking aim. The Joker looked at me and settled his laughter, an evil grin spreading over his face.
"Go on. Hit me," he challenged. I clenched my fist tighter, but kept it poised. "Come on. Hit me!" he yelled. I remained still, my eyes locked on his. "HIT ME!" he bellowed forcefully. And I did. My fist made brief contact with his jaw and came away with some of his white face paint. I shook my hand as the Joker laughed manically. I looked at him with disgust. How the hell could he have found that funny? I got up off the Joker, brushed myself off, then glared down a the clown who was still cackling.
"Fucking weirdo," I spat angrily. The Joker seemed as though he hadn't heard me as he moved his bottom jaw around. He looked me up and down with lust-filled eyes as he licked his lips. This guy was a fucking freak who was turned on by violence. I flipped the bird and saw that damned smirk on his scarred lips again. "What?" I snapped.
"You hit like a bitch," he said teasingly.
"I don't give a shit," I hissed.
"Yes you do," he continued.
"Not really," I growled irritably.
"Yes you do."
"No I don't, just shut the fuck up!"
"Make me."
"I'm not hitting you again you freak." At this comment he grabbed my ankle, causing me to fall backwards. My head got acquainted with the cold cement floor and I blacked out.
The next bits of my story are under construction and on their way so please be patient. Until then be safe and don't do drugs kiddies XD