DISCLAIMER : I do not own anything relating to The Batman comics. They belong to DC and other respective owners. Aurora and any plot events you don't recognize, however, belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended, I just couldn't stop myself from writing this story. Enjoy.

Chapter One: Meet Aurora

She snapped the blade open with a simple flick of her wrist, circling the sobbing woman in the chair in front of her. Her painted black lips curling into a vindictive smirk as she leaned down behind her victim, whispering in her ear with mocking sympathy.

"It's too bad about your husband, babe. It really was just a case of 'wrong place, wrong time'," The girl with the knife snickered, dragging the blade of her knife against the woman's exposed thigh. The woman in question had her eyes fixed on the man on the floor, bloody and lifeless.

"Please!" The woman exclaimed in agony as the knife dug deeper into her skin. "S-stop! What do you want from me?" She sobbed hysterically, her eyes locked in an unreturned gaze with her husband's.

"'Want from you'?" The woman withdrew her knife in a fit of maniacal laughter. "Oh, I don't want anything from you. I was just…bored," Again, the woman was cackling, but her knife was now trailing lightly across her captive's collar bone.

"A-are you going to kill me?" The middle age woman stuttered, her wide eyes staring at the large hunting knife in the girl's hand.

The younger girl grinned, twirling the knife through her fingers with a disturbing familiarity and skill before replying, "Eventually."

She approached the woman with a cruel determination, her emerald eyes shining with malevolence.

Eyes set to kill.

XXX

Aurora returned to her house that night in a rather cheery mood, humming Metallica songs under her breath as she headed to the bathroom. She turned on the stereo before stepping into the shower, throwing her ruined clothes in the trash bin. She scrubbed the blood of her latest victims off her skin with glee; Her blood lust fully sated.

What she told her victim was true. Aurora killed for nothing but the thrill of it. For her, there was nothing more exciting than playing with knives and dynamite. She preferred the former, loving the intensity that came from killing in such a personal way. The family of two she slaughtered meant nothing to her. She did not know them before the beginning of the night when she picked them up and she could hardly remember their faces now. The faces all blurred together at this point…

She wasn't always a monster. No, at one point she was a sweet little girl, with dreams and a conscious. Blood ran down her body in diluted streams, washing over the abundance of scars that marred her skin in various shapes and sizes. That was before the scars, of course. The day she received them had been her rude awakening to how unforgiving reality actually was. Since then, nothing really mattered to her.

She felt no guilt whatsoever when she had murdered her parents after she had received them. It was their fault, after all. She didn't stop there, though, not by a long shot. It was the most addictive feeling in the world, having that much power over another. And Aurora Jane Sykes was an addict.

But Aurora was over thinking of the past; no good ever came from it, anyway. She turned off the water, feeling clean and refreshed. It was hard labor hauling the bodies from the warehouse into the car, even more so when it came time to dump them in the river. She was always very careful to wear gloves, and when she didn't she put them in one of the many abandoned houses in the narrows and set it on fire. There were enough criminals around here that she would never be caught. An explosions or two was commonplace here in the slums of Gotham. It was even worse than it was when she arrived here eight years ago-scars fresh and her first two accounts of murder already under her belt. That could only be expected with the Joker running around the city like a mad man, blowing things up for the Hell of it.

It always amused her whenever she heard people talking about him on her rare excursions into Gotham. She tried staying away from the general population as much as she could manage. More often than not, someone would do something to annoy her and she always ended up dirtying her knife. She couldn't honestly say she wasn't happy with the latter, not when the thrill of fresh blood was as enticing as it was. They would talk about him in hushed whispers, often avoiding saying his name. Their fear for him was misguided, to say the least.

Sure, he blew up buildings at random and didn't appear to have a reason behind most of his…performances, but he shouldn't be the one having them quivering. If they just paid a bit more attention to the messages he was sending the city, they could see he wasn't as insane as they would like to believe. He was just trying to tear Gotham apart and they let him. They were so easy to manipulate, it was hardly a challenge. Even she saw it in her excursions. Once she waved a knife in front of someone's face they begin begging like coward, losing all dignity and self-respect. They grovel and plead, promising to do anything she wished just to be spared. It was pathetic, really. No, they shouldn't be afraid of The Joker; they should be afraid of themselves.

But that was enough about him, she thought. It was getting early, the first rays of sun already peaking through her room as she made her way into her closet. Although her house looked run down and worn on the outside like every other house on the filthy streets in this city, it was just a cover. She had enough money to move out of here long ago, however she stayed here for the cover and convince. No one asked questions in the Narrows, and if they were stupid enough to question her they were easily disposed of. Her room was well furnished, decorated in purples and blacks. She had a simple bed in the center of her room, king sized with the comforters ruffled from the night before. The left wall was lined with rows of dark wooden shelves. One side was full of books, and the other her music collection. In the back of the room, was her walk in closet. She would admit it shamelessly, she had a spending habit. She had the money to support it though, and that justified it in her eyes. Whenever she found the perfect pair of heels or a dress she knew she'd look amazing in, she simply could not resist the urge to buy it.

She deposited the dirty towels in the wash basket before putting on her customary sleepwear of a pair of shorts and a tank top. She pulled the blinds down, effectively blocking all sunlight from coming in before she snuggled into the familiar warmth of her bed. She knew she would fall asleep easily, her muscles burning in a pleasant way from that night's activities. She fell asleep with that twisted grin on her face as usual.

XXX

She stared into her vacant refrigerator with an agitated expression, her orange tabby cat winding through her legs. She paid no mind to Oli-her feline friend and only housemate. She was focused on her annoyance at having nothing to drink except for Sprite, which she only kept in the house to mix with Vodka. She did not remember polishing off the bottle of alcohol that had once been place in her cabinet. Either way, she knew that simply would not do and grudgingly went to her room to find something acceptable to wear to the liquor store a few blocks down the street.

In the end she decided on a simple black and white checkered skirt and a black polo. Having no patience for higher heels, she finished the outfit off with her favorite pair of Mary Jane's. She tucked one of her smaller switchblades into her garter belt before feeding Oli who was demanding to be fed before she left. Once she situated the kitten with it's saucer of milk, she headed off to get her own form of refreshment in the hard liquor section of the store.

Drinking was not usually a part of Aurora's schedule, but she would admit she always drank more in the summer months. They always brought up bad memories for her, and she often got as out of control as the heat if she let herself. That was something Aurora could not afford, not with her plans coming along so well. Aurora knew the day she got those scars that revenge would be her downfall in the end and she would be damned if she didn't go out with one hell of a bang.

All along, she has been plotting the day she'd extract her revenge. It started with daydreams and fantasies, nothing serious. The doctor's she had been forced to see told her it was normal to be angry and vengeful. She didn't tell them how violent they got at times, how sadistic. It wasn't information she shared with anyone, save her only friend, Jack…

But that was a story she didn't have time for. She was already half way down the street and she had to keep her guard up. It was almost midnight and being a criminal herself, she knew every street in the Narrows was a virtual hunting ground for all of Gotham's crazies.

She normally worked alone, but would acquire expendable help to carry out big jobs that needed more man power. But once in a while, if someone proved themselves to be extra useful, she would allow them to live. She didn't care what they did in the between time, but if she called on them the had to be there. If they weren't there the exact time she said to be there, plans were set into action to kill every family member they had left. All it took was a simple phone call. She couldn't afford to be anything else but ruthless; it was the only way things would get done. After a few years she now had as many as a hundred men and even a few women on her beck and call. All of them were willing to do whatever it was she asked because if they didn't, they knew she would have all of their love ones killed in brutal and degrading ways.

She never denied she had issues. It was what drove the fire within her. She had obtained almost all the information she needed about her targets to make her move and she already had all of the people the job would require. But she wouldn't make her move yet. There was something in her gut telling her it wasn't the right time. The timing was crucial for her plan to work and she would not mess up all her years of hard work with impatience. She wanted this to be the greatest account of fulfilled vengeance to ever be heard. She wanted everyone to know what would happen to you if you fucked with Aurora Jane Sykes.

By the time she reached the store, she had worked herself into a frenzy. She was biting the inside of her cheeks, her eyes fixed in a fierce glare. She all but stamped down the isle until she found what she wanted- ahandle of Jack Daniel's. Once she had the bottle in her hand, her violent mood had subsided a bit to allow rational thought. She decided to grad a bottle of Bacardi as well as orange juice to mix with the rest of the Sprite. Once she was at the counter she bought herself a carton of Marlboro reds and tried her hardest to ignore the sleazy leers the man behind the cash register shot her.

"That'll be a hundred twenty, miss. I'll need to see your driver's license, a pretty lil' thing like you," The middle aged man smirked, not even trying to conceal his lustful gaze at her chest. He couldn't help seeing her come in here like that, dressed in those tiny little skirts she wore and swinging them hips like that. He could ignore all the scars with a body like that. Her shirt showed the perfect amount of cleavage and he could see a lot with the couple of inches of height he had on her. Those dark red lips would look perfect wrapped around his cock. His dark, rough skin would feel so against her soft, alabaster curves. He wanted to grab her and fuck her on the counter.

She glared at the man as he shamelessly stared at her. She could practically hear the thoughts shouting from his gaze. Slowly his hand began to reach forward and she had had enough. The weight of the knife on her thigh felt heavy, her loyal friend aching to come out and play. But she wouldn't, not then. She needed to stay focused and control herself, she needed to relax. She slapped the money on the counter, not bothering to show the man her id as she snatched the bag and left the building in a fury. She ripped the seal off the bottle of Jack and began drinking in the parking lot, not caring what she looked like.

People like him were pathetic; she was young enough to be his daughter. She wouldn't even bat an eye if every single one of them dropped dead in an instant. The private smile on her face marked her as the true sociopath she was as she gripped the handle tight and light up a cigarette. To be honest, she was used to the staring. She hated how those dirty old men would look at her even if their wives were right there. It was disgusting and more often than not she made sure they paid for their actions. If there was one thing she couldn't stand it was an arrogant pervert.

By the time she arrived home, she had already taken a few shots of whiskey and was feeling much more relaxed. She walked into her house and didn't bother with the stairs. She grabbed a shot glass out of the cabinet and settled herself on the couch in the living room. Saturday Night Live played on the TV as she poured out another shot and drank it down. She opened the small wooden box on the table and withdrew a blunt she had rolled before she realized she had no alcohol to go with it.

By three she had smoked two blunts and finished both bottles of alcohol half way. The strange combination of the two had brought her to the door to her past and all the memories. She remembered Jack, as she always did. He was the only true friend she ever had, the only one that never cared about the scars.

She lit another blunt as she allowed herself to walk down the familiar path of Memory Lane. She remembered when she first moved here, when her scars were the freshest. She was fifteen when she killed her parents and moved in with her aunt. Nobody questioned their deaths. It was fire that burned away the house and all of its secrets. Everyone thought the mob burnt the house down after what they did to Aurora to finish the job. Nobody questioned the daughter with over three hundred stitches in her body and crutches. They just shipped her off to her only living relative willing to take her to "get a fresh start". But that was bullshit and everyone knew it, including Aurora. There wasn't a fresh start from this, she couldn't just start over. She was marked for life.

And they were right. She was marred, her once beautiful face ruined. But she wasn't bitter, not with her new nothing-matters-everything-sucks attitude. It was Jack that had taught her to accept them. He was her lab partner in the advanced chemistry class Gotham High School offered, as well as the two other advanced class she was in. There weren't that many kids in the higher level classes and Jack and Aurora has been the only outcasts amongst the others. Nobody liked Jack because he was confrontational, dark, quiet and rather sarcastic when he did talk. Nobody liked Aurora because the scars scared them along with my drastically obvious disinterest in anything anyone tried to say to her.

Their friendship began when they partnered up in Chemistry, due to their mutual abhorrence of the rest of the class. Both agreed that working with each other would be a more bearable experience than working with anyone else.

However, when Jack had come over to her house that day to work on their project, it had gone much better than anyone had expected. Her Aunt was a coke head, who had no problem with smoking in the house. Both teenagers knew the project would go much smoother once they had smoked the plant and would never turn the opportunity down. After smoking, all walls were gone and they found that they liked each other. Jack loved Aurora's bluntness and that twisted edge on her thoughts that reminded him so much of himself. Aurora found Jack hilarious and loved how she could have deep, intellectual conversations with him that left her feeling productive. Both loners were drawn together like they were never drawn to another before. They had always enjoyed being alone and found the company of others a waste of time, but somehow they both that spending time with the other wouldn't be the worst thing in the world…

Soon they were inseparable. Every day they would walk to Aurora's house after school. They never went to Jack's. His father was abusive when drinking, and being the worst kind of alcoholic, that was all the time. Jack almost had as many scars on his body as she did, though none of them were quite as prominent as the one scaring her face. They drank, and smoked, took pills and other chemicals they should never put into their bodies. They stayed up late together and shared secrets. Jack often stayed over in the summer time, her aunt away and his parents toed across that dangerous ledge of control together, depending on the other to catch them if they fell. They managed to become inextricably intertwined together in an intricate web neither of them knew was possible.

Neither Aurora nor Jack had thought they were even capable of loving someone else. But fate had other plans and it was true. They had loved each other as only teenagers can. She grabbed the picture frame from the table, laughing though nothing was funny. Jack and Aurora were standing together, arms wrapped around each other, with Aurora sticking out her tongue and giving Jack bunny ears. Jack was kissing her cheek but still making eye contact with the camera, that gorgeous smile reserved only for her caught on film.

She really did love him.

She downed three more shoots, a steady stream of heat tears trailing down her face. The water spilt down the length of her scar and she could barely feel it. She barely felt anything anymore, only when she thought of Jack and how he got away. It really is the worst thing to love something death can touch. Jack Napier died in a massive conflagration, two nights before they had planned on running away together to elope. He died on my eighteenth birthday, a night we had been waiting on for months. We spent years collecting enough money to get out of Gotham once we were old enough to do so and have any hope of succeeding. It was ruined though, when Jack's house was burned to the ground, him trapped inside it.

She lost it after that since there was no one to keep the crazy at bay. There was no one to keep her in control and every instinct was followed without any thought of consequent. And that was how she became the monster everyone who came in contact with her believed her to be. The best thing was that she loved it. It was the most freeing feeling in the world when she just let go. She cared about nothing now. Nothing except maybe the purring kitten curled up in her lap. He was a wonderful companion to her, someone she could tell her secrets to without worry of judgment. Something she hadn't had since Jack.

She fell asleep on the couch that night, drinking until she passed out and smoking herself to hallucinate. She blamed the weed for the footsteps she heard and a hazy brain for the shadows. If only she had know it had been her past visiting her…

XXX

Okay, so this is my first serious Joker story. I'm switching up my style and experimenting. So I hope you all enjoyed it and will stick with me on this. Chapter will usually be longer, this one was just sort of an introduction. Reviews would be lovely, but not necessary. I'd love to hear what you have to say about it. Until next time.

Ex's and Oh's

Audrey V. Sullivan