"The boy you loved is the monster you fear. The one that is always haunting your nightmares. The boogieman in the closet-" Sarah cut herself off, flipping over another tarot card and continuing. What she flipped over was DEATH and,- Sarah's eyes widened as a gasp escaped her partially parted lips. The girl across from her stared fidgiting nervously.
"Wh-What is it?" she asked meekly.
"I-... I don't really know. With how it's been going, it's probably not good." the customer opened her mouth, about to ask what she meant by that but Sarah cut her off. "Don't worry," she said. "it doesn't mean you're going to die. The DEATH card usually just means the end of something." Sarah half lied. She wouldn't tell the other girl this, but she was doing her own reading. There had been something plaguing Sarah's mind, and this was the only time she could do this.
Sarah was kind of a mock fortune teller of sorts, coming and going occasionally in the streets of Gotham. She had a reputation. Well, her fortunes did, for almost always being right. Though she knew this is one fortune that would be wrong. For the customer, at least.
The woman was about to continue before the customer across the purple-clothed table stopped her.
"N-no. That's fine. You don't need to continue. I-I'll be going now." the girl stutterd out quickly, before hastily skittering out, leaving not a cent behind in payment.
Sarah didn't mind. She didn't charge people. Though, some did pay her, quite heftily for this area, after their fortunes were told. Some came back afterwards, their fortunes having been proven true before paying. She didn't need it, though. See, Sarah worked in the most sucessful area of Wayne Enterprises, their main building. She got very good pay for how little she worked. Then again, she worked under Mr. Fox and was still a student (she was taking Psychology at Gotham University). So him, being the understanding and kind person that he is, gave her usual pay once a month, even if she missed more days than she should have.
What no one knew, though, was that she was very, very interested in The Joker. She had her T.V. recording the best news channels almost 24/7, just waiting for something Joker-related to play for documentation. Her interest wasn't a romantic one (ew), but more of a curious one. Like most, she was interested in how his mind worked (psychology class, remember?). Unlike most, though, she was doing it out of free will. She wasn't getting paid, she wasn't getting fame, she was doing it because she could, and wanted, to.
The black haired woman packed up her Tarot cards. She couldn't finish now that the other had left. As Sarah was walking back to her apartment, her deep forest green eyes were lost in thought about the reading.
The boy you loved is the monster you fear. The words echoed in her mind. There really wasn't anyone she loved. Sarah's a quiet person and keeps to herself, mostly.
Unless, she thought, I'm taking it too literally.
Maybe it wasn't the person themself, but a trait, or something unique. As this thought arose, her mind immediately turned to the Clown Prince of Crime. She didn't love him (again, ew!), but she did love learning things about him. Maybe that was it? But the other line, 'the monster you fear'. What could that mean? Sure, he's The Joker. He's terrifying. But she knew that wasn't what the cards meant. So then what did they mean? Augh! This was all so confusing!
Sarah let out a long, obviously frustrated breath as a hand moved through her dark locks, messing it slightly. Her free hand moved to her pocket, freeing her keys from their confined space so that she could unlock her apartment door. She traded her cards for her keys, making sure the fortune-telling cards wouldn't fall out. Unlocking and stepping into her small sudio apartment, she shut the door behind her and dropped her keys into a small ceramic bowl that was resting atop a wooden stool next to the door. Or at least, she would have put them there, if her hand hadn't gone slack at the surprise waiting for her. Her keys slipped through her fingers and landed on the floor, the carpet muffling the noise of impact.
Her apartment was a mess. Papers scatted everywhere creating a sea of white with grey scribbles and blue lines with the occasional red one. Her VHS recorded tapes strewn everywhere, ribbons pulled and decorating everything like multicoloured confetti. There were other things that didn't stand out as much like the pillows and things torn up, lamps and lights broken, fridge door wide open. But all that was soon forgotten as the figure standing in the middle of this chaotic mess caught her attention.
Sarah recognized him right away with his dirty, greasy green hair and tailored green and purple suit. It was hard not to, even with his back to her. The Joker. The Joker was in her apartment. But why?
He knows, She thought. I don't know how but he knows.
All of this had registered in her brain in an instant, for as her keys hit the carpet with its muted thump, he swiftly turned. He had acted as if he was surprised that somebody had come back so soon, but as soon as his eyes landed on Sarah's form, his scarred lips stretched out into an unbelievably wide grin. The serrated scars became more prominent as he did, the white and red war paint on his face cracking, the black around his eyes untouched.
"Well," he clicked his tongue once. "Well," again. "Well." And again. His speech was slow and announciated, like he took great time and care into what he was saying. With each word, the clown stepped closer to the woman who had become paralyzed with fear. "Lookie at who's here so, uh," he took this time to wet his lips with a slick tongue, enjoying the fear in the Sarah's eyes. "So~on." He drew the word out, his voice becoming a sadistic purr as he did.
Sarah swallowed hard, trying to control her trembling as she looked up at the scarred male. She was sure she had never felt so scared in her life. It was like an ice fire, burning through her veins and leaving a frigid, empty space behind. Steeling herself, she took a breath to try and calm her racing pulse enough to speek in a hopefully even tone.
"Wh-why are you here?" It failed.
She was unprepared for the sudden bought of high pitched laughter that burst from him like water from a fire hydrant. Jumping in surprise, Sarah wasn't even sure it could be considered laughter. It was like a mix of laugher, giggles and cackling, if that can even describe what this insane noise coming from the psycho's vocal cords was.
"Now, now Miss- Sarah- Quintet," he pronounced her name seperately, once more taking great care with what he emphasized. It was a tactic he used constantly, and he could see working once again. The girl wasn't very good at hiding her emotions well. With this thought, he took great pleasure in watching her facial expression change with his next words, his already wide grin widening more. Wetting his lips, he leaned in close to the woman's face. "I think you know," Sarah heard something she recognized almost immediately. It was a common sound in Gotham. The sound of a switchblade coming from its sheath. Her assumption was proven true when she felt the cold, sharp steel against her face, the light dancing off the blade. "Why I'm here."
She had to revise her earlier thought as her rattling bones screamed. This wasn't fear. This was sheer, unadulterated terror. He was insane. She never fully understood it before and right now, she was really wishing she didn't now. He was insane, and he was going to kill her with his monstrous insanity. Before she could stop it, the words that would haunt her for eternity popped into her mind.
The boy you loved is the monster you fear.
The monster she fears. His monstrous inasnity. She was terrified, that much was obvious. She knew what the reading meant now, but it was too late. Far too late.
"O-.. Oh god." She whispered, but it was quickly drowned by The Joker's maniacle laughter.
It had been barely a day, but Lucius Fox was worried. Sarah hadn't called like she normally did. She was a sweet, honest girl, he knew. That's why he let her have a normal pay, even when she doesn't work. But she normally calls. To restate, he was worried. This wasn't like her.
He let Bruce know of his worries, but since Lucius couldn't leave work, he asked Bruce if the young enterprise owner could check on Sarah himself. It took some persuading, but he finally agreed.
That had been a few hours ago now and Mr. Fox hadn't heard a word from either of them. It was then that his phone rang. If Lucius moved any faster, he could have been an Olympian. Picking up the phone, he opened his mouth to say something but Bruce spoke first.
"Lucius, you better get down here. Now." Then a dial tone.
The urgency in his voice is what made the older gentleman move quickly out the building, ignoring his secretary who called after him.
When Lucius got there, people were crowding around the door of Sarah's apartment, a disturbed murmer going through the crowd. Lucius slowly but surely pushed his way through the ever-growing crowd to see Bruce keeping people from getting in. As soon as the Wayne saw his CEO, he pulled him in through Sarah's door and quickly shut it behind them before any prying eyes peeked in. About to ask what was going on, the older man had opened his mouth only for once again finding himself not being able to speak. This time, though, it wasn't because someone interrupted him. He had seen the room.
It was a sea of paper with tape-ribbon as confetti. That was the only way he could describe it. Just like with Sarah, the mess was over-looked, but not because of an insane mass murderer in the room. No. It was because of the blood. The nearest signs of it were near Lucius and Bruce's feet. It was just in a normal pool, but it was still disturbing none-the-less. Unfortunately, it only got worse. Looking around, the older male's eyes landed first on the bloody hand handprints that littered the walls, then next on-.. wait,.. was that a finger?
"Oh my lord.." Lucius breathed, Bruced nodded solemly in agreement.
"I've already looked around," the young owner commented, "it was brutal, what he did to her." Lucius' eyes snapped to his boss.
"You know who did it?"
"So will you when to go into her room." Bruce motioned to the doorway where a boody hand had once clutched the frame, only to be forcably dragged from it. Walking to the doorway, the CEO found he could move no further. The first thing that hit him was the smell, it was so overpowering and hung the air like a thick blanket, permiating his senses. It was what some would call the scent of death. He was surprised he didn't smell it when he first entered the apartment. His stomach churned at the smell, but practically flipped upside down when his brain finally processed what he was looking at.
His employee was laying on her blood-soaked sheets, green eyes now dulled with death and widened with the terror running through her system when she finally passed. Her stomach had been cut open-, no, gutted was the better word. She had been gutted, her intestines having been ripped from the large, uncaring laceration, and were hanging over the side of the bed. Had they found her sooner, a drop of blood would occasionally drip from the internal organ and add to the large pool it had created on the carpet below.
When Lucius looked up, he could even see blood on the ceiling. Some of it was obviously from a suddenly punctured artery that had sprayed upwards, but most looked like a mist. Like heat or steam had evaporated some of her blood and the ceiling had blocked its progression from going any further skyward. Letting his eyes trail back to ground level, the white and grey haired man took inventory next on what looked like a kidney on the ground in a bloody heap. His eyes trailed up the blood on the wall above it, stopping when he reached the large splattered mark on the wall. The CEO quickly figured it was thrown against the drywall and had slid down.
Even with all that, what caught Lucius Fox's attention the most was Sarah's face. There were large, obnoxious lacerations going from the corners of her mouth to high up on her cheek bones, creating a queer, grotesque smile. Her skin was completely split open from the jagged wounds, giving an open view of gums and teeth that were usually covered. This was The Joker's calling card, and the poor girl was more than likely alive when it occured.
Lucius had seen a lot in his life, but never something to this degree. His hand came to cover his mouth, eyes closing as he tried pushing the image of the dead woman from his mind so that he could calm his queasy stomach. Bruce was right, he did know who did this. But why? What would The Joker have to do with her? Lucius highly doubted this was just a random murder for the sake of pleasing what sick, twisted boredum the psychopath had. Bruce obvious thought this as well, because as soon as the elder gentleman thought this, Bruce came up with untouched papers in his hand. Untouched in this sense meaning in perfect condition with nothing marring the prestine white of the paper. It was an oversized medium in bulk, to say the least, and looked to be carefully and neatly organized. Opening his eyes once more, Lucius focused on his boss and what he was doing with the papers, glad to have the distraction.
"I think this was why he did it," Bruce explained. "I found it in a drawer under a false bottom."
"What is it?" Mr. Fox couldn't help but ask, not being able to wrap his head around much at the moment.
"Research," Bruce replied. At Lucius' lack of understanding, he elaborated. "On The Joker. It seems our little Miss here had a hobby." With this comment, both men's eyes moved back to the dead body on the bed. "She was profiling him, Lucius. And doing a fine job, from what I could see at looking at some of these papers. She had guesses, no- theories, mostly, on things not even the doctors and psychiatrists at Arkam never even thought on." Lucius continued to stare at the body, ignoring at the gruesome details of it and her untimely demise, awed at what such a drawn back, nice person accomplished. Bruce did, as well, and seemed about to continue when the front door opened. From where they stood they heard the gagging of the officers who had entered and not yet seen the state of the room and all the fine details. In a quick, smooth motion, Bruce had stuck the papers into his suit, holding them close to his body with help of his armpit and turned to face Officer Gordon who had just entered the room, being followed by queasy-looking cops.
After the officer's initial shock of the scene faded, Gordon told Bruce and Lucius to stay for questioning, since they had found the body. The two agreed, knowing that Sarah's unwilling sacrifice could help bring down The Joker a whole lot faster. Hopefully it was fast enough.