The unrelenting buzz of the fluorescent light echoed loudly in the quiet room, as if desperate to end what had already been quite a lengthy silence. This, along with the dim, flickering illumination it provided, was giving Commissioner James Gordon one of the worst headaches he'd experienced in his career; and he'd experienced a lot.
With a sigh, he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, before replacing his lenses and looking at the young woman who sat in front of him, a very unimpressed expression in his face.
"What is it, about young girls, that seem to think pursuing a dangerous maniac is a good idea? All that potential, thrown away, for someone who will never feel for you what you think you feel for him. Someone, who thinks blowing everything up, destroying our city, destroying families, destroying lives is fun sport. It's sickening." He had to take a deep breath, urging himself to keep cool, and not lose his head as he was so tempted to do. He leveled his gaze at the girl, and continued with the carefully scripted out speech he'd spent the last half hour mentally rehearsing, willing the temperature in his face to decrease.
"I don't know what he has on you, or why you seem to think you are in any way indebted to him...I can guarantee he's done nothing to ever deserve it." He practically spit the words out, and had to take another calming breath before continuing.
"But you have to understand, he's not worth this. He's not worth ruining your life over. He is evil. He's killed mothers, fathers, children...and he doesn't care. He is without empathy, and completely incapable of any sort of emotion." Unless you count sadism, he added as a bitter afterthought.
He sat down, and leaned across the table. "Whatever the reason is that drives you to do...this," he gestured, bringing attention to her apparel. "I promise you, there's nothing you can do that will make him love you. If you stay with him long enough, he will kill you. Just like he did with Harley Quinn."
Completely immobile until then, the girl finally moved, glancing up at Gordon through her green bangs, giving him a silent smirk, before returning her makeup blackened eyes to the table. Even if she had something to say, her face was in way too much pain to speak.
The commissioner did not seem to share in her amusement.
"Oh...you think it's funny, what he did to her? You think it's funny, to destroy somebody's mind, break their free will, then toss them aside like trash? You think it's funny, for her to be so besotted with him, that when he gave the order, she marched to her death simply because he told her to?" His voice continuously raised in pitch, and he had to once again take a pause, willing his emotions down.
"You think it's funny, that he's doing the same thing to you?"
Though she raised her eyes to look at him, Gordon could see she wasn't seeing him. Her mind was traveling millions of miles away...
The floor was hard and dirty, and if close attention was paid, one could make out small paw prints, presumably belonging to a rat. The occupants of the small room however seemed not to care, as all their attention was focused on the cards the older boy held in front of him.
"The idea is to never get caught with the queen of spades; she's the one who's gonna kill ya." He began dealing them out, placing the deck down just as loud, angry voices began floating up the stairs.
The small girl looked at the boy, a frightened look in her eyes, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"I'll be right back Evey. Start building a house for me, I'll show you how to play this later." It was a short sentence, but by the end of it he was almost being drowned out by the screaming, and he hastily departed, trying not to upset the youngster.
Little Evey gathered up the cards, her brows creasing violently as the yelling became louder, and sounds of fists on flesh began to accompany them, along with some breaking glass and what sounded like the already decrepit kitchen table cracking. She slowly built her house, all the while imagining her actually building a new house, and being able to leave, never come back, just her and-
The door opened when she was about half done the card house, and she looked up, staring unflinchingly at the new cuts and bruises that donned her companion's body. He sat down without a word, a scowl etched onto his face, which he wiped with his now even more ripped, and slightly bloodied shirt.
Evey knocked the house down, and began gathering the cards.
"Does that hurt?" She pointed to a gash above his eyebrow, which seemed to be the main source of blood.
The boy shook his head.
She looked back down at the cards, carefully putting them into a neat stack. One card separated itself from the group, and she picked it up, adopting a slightly annoyed tone.
"Why do they even have this card? It's totally useless." She held it out to the boy, who looked at it for a minute before chuckling.
"That's not true, Evey. Actually, in the grand scheme of things, he's the best card of all." He gave her a meaningful look, face slightly tilted to the ground, as he handed it back to her.
Evey looked at him, confused. "Why?"
He met her gaze full on and grinned, revealing red stained teeth.
"Because he plays the part of the fool. Nobody ever takes him seriously, or gives him any credit; but that's why he's so powerful. Nobody expects him to be capable of anything. And in the end, the Joker's the only one laughing."
SLAM.
Though she didn't start, Evey was abruptly brought out of her reverie, the present scene returning to her. Commissioner Gordon was still sitting in front of her, both hands lying flat on the table. He did not look pleased.
"Anybody in there?" His voice had adopted a rather rude tone to it, and he struggled to keep it in check.
"We're talking about saving lives here...potentially thousands of them. You're our only hope to do that right now; don't you want to help?"
Evey cocked her head, and began swinging her feet, which, thanks to her 5'1 frame, hung almost half a foot off the ground.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The humming of the lights was nothing compared to the incessant contact her feet made with the wooden chair legs. Coupled with the light smile she kept glued to her lips, Jim was quickly running out of patience.
"Bringing the Joker to justice would be a big win for the city; and you would without a doubt be recognized for your actions. No matter what you were forced to participate in under his rule, no judge would condemn you; especially if you were to play a key part in capturing him."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"We could even offer you protection, in case you were concerned about the ramifications of telling us what you know. I know these guys can be scary, but I promise you, miss...we will protect you."
At that, Evey could no longer keep silent, and a small giggle escaped her, before she hushed it with a hand over her mouth, though she was careful not to touch her face.
This brought Gordon's attention to her cheeks, and his already short fuse almost reached it's end.
"Those look painful...perhaps you should let someone clean them up and take a look at them for you." Evey lowered her hand, and once again directed her eyes at the table in front of her. This encouraged Jim slightly.
"Do they hurt? They don't look like they were very well taken care of. Did..." he stopped, putting on the most understanding tone he could muster, "did, he, do that to you?"
Convinced he'd hit a nerve, the commissioner was both shocked and appalled to see a genuine smile appear on the girl's face, though because of the wounds it was not big.
Before he could stop her, her eyes glazed, and she once again retreated into the depths of her mind...
"Please...please..." The whimpering man reached out a bloodied hand weakly, barely able to lift his face from the cement floor. He grabbed the brown, dirtied shoe of his assailant, who leaned down and started stroking the man's head.
"Oh Bob...it's not you..." His gloved hand twisted into Bob's hair, painfully jerking his head to an angle it was never meant to bend.
"It's me."
The gunshot that followed echoed loudly in the warehouse, and Bob's face was no more. Evey squirmed, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. Things were always exciting when the boss got back from a hiatus; which, in this case, was due to his month long not so voluntary stay in Arkham Asylum. She folded her hands in front of her, balancing between her heels and toes.
"Where to next Jacky?" The man turned and looked at her, eyes blazing, adrenaline still pumping strong in his veins.
"Now now Evey...you know better than to call me that in public." Evey's face flamed, though one couldn't tell beneath the white face paint.
"I'm sorry...Joker, it-it just, slipped out."
The Joker gave an exasperated sigh, and started lazily skipping towards her, only slowing to step over the bodies of his henchmen, leaving bloody footprints in his wake.
"I think, uh...you may need a little reminder of um, who, it is you're talking to. " Evey bowed her head and slouched, loosening her stance, preparing for whatever was to come.
He roughly grabbed her jaw, and pulled her face towards him, forcing her to stand on tiptoe just to reach the bottom of his chin.
"Maybe..." He put his pistol away, replacing it with his favourite little flick knife. He traced the scars on her cheeks, which were, at the moment covered with red paint.
"I guess...you've already forgotten the uh, last, lesson."
A tear fell from her eye, but neither acknowledged it. He stuck the knife in her mouth, and smiled nastily.
"Nothing like a little negative reinforcement to refresh your memory." He pulled the knife taught against her cheek, only pausing to say, "Try not to wriggle so much...I don't want to go outside the lines." before giggling maniacally, and starting to saw.
Evey wasn't an overly vocal person, but no power in the universe could keep her agonized screams at bay. She tried not to move, but it was hard, so the Joker quickly moved them onto the floor, where he straddled her arms and chest, holding her head securely in one hand. He had his tongue sticking out, as if sculpting a rather difficult project.
When he finally finished, his hands were soaked in blood, and even if Evey's face wasn't caked in paint, the amount of blood would have very efficiently prevented any facial features from showing through.
Though originally very aware of what was happening, by the time Joker started on the second cheek Evey lost feeling, retreating to the place in her mind she'd created as a small child. She only vaguely registered getting picked up, and when she finally came to, she was lying in bed, her face haphazardly patched up with what were now very blood soaked bandages. She sat up slowly, trying not to focus on the intense throbbing that seemed to envelope her head. She looked around, and, seeing no one, decided to go for a bath.
The place wasn't much better than her childhood home, but it kept the rain off her head, and had hot water, even if one had to run the tap for a bit to ensure the water was somewhat clean.
She turned on the tub, and turned to the spider cracked mirror, opening it to reveal what was actually a very well stocked medicine cabinet. If her cheeks were to permit it, she probably would have smiled at the thought of her having more experience tending wounds than any doctor.
Her face was gruesome. It had swollen up, and the tender flesh made it nearly impossible to stitch herself together. She did, however, and was almost done the second cheek when the door, already hanging off one hinge, was pushed open. Evey gave a little wave.
"You always were horrible at aftercare." Pain flared when she spoke, and the one unfinished cheek flapped in a very gruesome way, causing another stream of blood to leak out.
He said nothing, just watched her work, his eyes lacking the excitement from earlier. Now, they looked rather dead.
She finally finished, did one last sterilization, and began to get undressed, completely non phased by the presence of a male. Though he watched, his eyes held no leering intent; he looked at her scars.
Once fully submerged in the tub, she turned, and saw that he'd already left.
She sighed, and leaned back against the tub, closing her eyes to rest. Judging by the 'fwump' sound of the mattress in the adjoining room, her companion was doing the same.
Commissioner Gordon stared through the glass, fogging it with his laboured breath. He'd finally reached the end of the line, and had requested back up.
The looming presence over his shoulder told him it had arrived.
"She knows where he is, but she won't tell me anything. Hasn't said a word to anyone since she's been here. We picked her up at an old townhouse, owned by someone named Evan Jayson. Old hermit man, no friends...been dead for two months and nobody even noticed."
He turned, tilting his chin slightly to address the man standing behind him. He looked slightly sickened by his next words.
"I need you to see what you can get from her. The Joker's planning something, and we need to know what it is."
"What do you want me to do with her?" His scratchy voice had a slight mocking tone to it, as the Commissioner was making it sound as if he was expected to exude physical force on the girl.
Jim remained silent, the unspoken intent hanging heavily in the air, before finally giving a slightly defeated sigh.
"Scare her, intimidate her...obviously nothing physical, the girl's too weak for that." They both turned to the young woman, who was still staring at the table, swinging her legs back and forth. Despite the creepy makeup covering her face, she looked so frail and harmless, it was hard to believe she was wrapped up in something so vicious.
"How'd you find her?" Though not quite convinced the girl was completely innocent, he wasn't sure whether or not she was necessarily involved or even close with the Joker.
Commissioner Gordon, breaking out of his momentary sympathy for the girl, gave Batman a black look.
"Two of my officers chased a convenience store robbery suspect to Fynch Street, and followed him into a very decrepit, abandoned looking house. Well, it turns out he was working for the Joker, and led us right to the hideout." Though not one to express his emotions, Batman's mouth did part slightly, not quite ready to accept that the discovery of the Joker's hideout was so simple.
Gordon nodded at his shocked look.
"The suspect in question was on an amphetamine when we picked him up, so we don't believe he was necessarily acting under orders." He hesitantly continued, the contents of his words making him visibly uncomfortable.
"It took the officers about three minutes to quietly park, and enter the residence, planning on sneaking up on the perpetrator; however, what they happened upon was our girl here," he swallowed, and took a slow breath, trying to keep a steady voice, "who apparently decided to discipline the rogue henchman by stabbing him in the neck, and letting him slowly bleed as she castrated him. She was in the process of attempting to insert the organ into the neck wound she'd created when my men found her." He looked back at the Batman with an icey gaze.
"We raided the house, found the late Mr. Jayson, shoved into a broken washing machine...then we brought her here, and she hasn't done anything but smile. I know she's been helping him, I know she's part of his team, and I know she's just as violent as him, but I hoped I might reach some sort of human side..." He shook his head, once again letting his eyes fall on the girl, who had not changed her position since Gordon left the room; hands under her thighs, and eyes cast on the table, hair shielding her face. She couldn't have weighed more than one hundred pounds soaking wet.
"She's the only connection we have to him. She knows where he is, and how to get him. We must exercise every possible peaceful route, but if that fails..." He trailed off, and Batman nodded, not exactly in accordance with the idea, but understanding that finding out what she knew was the ultimate goal, whether she wanted to cooperate or not.
Without a word, he turned and headed towards the door, mentally preparing for anything that may come. Batman had no reservations; Batman had no shame. Batman, if need be, could beat up a tiny, sickly looking female who viciously mutilated and murdered a man in cold blood. When it came to stopping the most notorious criminal Gotham had ever seen, Batman didn't have a lot of morals.
The Commissioner watched him enter the room, and saw the girl slightly tilt her chin up, and though he couldn't see through the hair, Jim assumed she'd briefly looked to see who had entered.
While Batman was not entirely sure what to expect, Jim was; she would look at him, smirk, then look back at the table, maintaining her infuriating silence.
Neither anticipated that upon recognizing her visitor, the young woman would straighten her stance, shake her hair back, and smile what was obviously a very painful smile.
"Hello!" She spoke excitedly, her tone slightly breathless. "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time. I'm a big fan."
Alright, just a short story I've been working on in my spare time. Hoping to wrap it up in one more chapter, but I'll see how it goes. There are a lot of takes on how the Joker came to be, and I read an interesting theory the other day that I believe is a very valid explanation (though I don't think it's the real story, it's a cool one). Hope you enjoyed, more to come hopefully soon!