I figured I should get some more chapters up on here to get this story going, so here's Chapter 2. I'm also going to post chapter 3.
Warning for this chapter: It has explicit scenes of assault. Sorry to those who are triggered by this, but it really is necessary for the plot and the character development of my OC. Wouldn't have done it otherwise.
Anyway, enjoy and review!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. The Joker and Bruce Wayne/The Batman are property of DC Comics.
Chapter 2
He stood in a dark corner of the alleyway by a dumpster, checking his watch. He knew no one could see him in the shadows wearing his dark purple suit. He expected them to turn up any second to pick him up, so he stayed still and waited, fingering the pearl handle of one of the knives inside his jacket.
He heard the rapid clicking of heels on the sidewalk. A second later, a young woman ducked into the alleyway from where she had been jogging. She didn't look afraid or panicked. She leaned back against the brick wall, a cigarette between her fingers. Having nothing better to do while he waited, he appraised her silently.
She had olive skin and warm brown hair that seemed to have hints of gold in it. It was swept back away from her heart-shaped face, but a few strands fell in loose waves around her cheeks. Her eyes were large and dark, framed by thick, strikingly long lashes and arched eyebrows of matching darkness. She had a straight, balanced nose and high cheekbones, which led his eyes down to her mouth, whose upper lip had a slight cupid's bow and lower lip was round and a bit plump. She had dark red lipstick on.
She was leaning with her back flat against the wall and her slender, bare legs out in front of her at an angle, forming a triangle with the wall and the ground. She was wearing black high heels and a striking, short red dress under an unbuttoned cropped fur jacket. He could see the glint of a long gold necklace peeking out from under the jacket. On her ears were enormous golden cross earrings, the ends of which grazed her shoulders, and on her head was a matching golden crown. She clearly was coming from some sort of event.
Like a bird of paradise in a swamp, he thought amusedly. A little bird, he added, noting that without her heels she would be only a little over five feet tall.
He cocked an eyebrow as the little bird leaned her head back against the grimy brick wall and grinned, exposing a long, slim column of neck. He smirked as he thought about how easy it would be for him to snap that neck. He could probably do it with one hand. She exhaled the smoke of her cigarette and released a breathy chuckle. Her teeth were straight and shockingly white against the darkness of her lipstick. He watched in entertainment as she breathed deeply and looked upwards, finishing her cigarette. Then she pushed herself off the wall and slipped out of the alleyway, walking in the direction she'd come from.
A moment later, a black Escalade slid into the alley. The driver's window rolled down to reveal a clown-masked face. "Boss," the face said.
The Joker jumped into the back seat and shut the door.
Salomé sat on the white leather couch in her office with her legs curled underneath her and her drawing tablet on her lap. She was working on some fashion sketches for the next fall/winter collection. It had been weeks since that night at the party, and it had taken a while to get her mother back on speaking terms with her. She had practically forced Salomé to write Bruce Wayne an apology letter, which she had done, though she was sure he would be able to tell how insincere it was.
She didn't regret what she'd done. It had given her a feeling of power, pride, and control that she seldom ever felt. She was incredibly privileged, true, but she felt as though she moved through her life being torn in all different directions by everyone around her. The pressure she felt to make everyone happy at the risk of her own happiness was a debilitating force in her life. It was her biggest flaw: she hated confrontation and loved pleasing others, being generous, and being praised. The combination of those things made it so that she felt she could never say no to anyone.
She knew she was intelligent. She knew she had a dream job at the age of 23 and that she'd been blessed with beauty and resources and that there was no reason for her to feel beneath anyone or sorry for herself, but she couldn't shake this feeling she constantly had that she was behind, that she was average and that others looked down on her. The night of Bruce's party, though, she'd felt so high up it was like she was flying. It was like smoldering embers of fire had been lying dormant deep inside, and she had finally let them roar free to lick up her throat and out of her mouth.
She wanted the feeling to last, but by the time she woke up the next morning she was back to her overly empathetic, people-pleasing self, the fire having been forced back down to where it came from. She had always known she had that fiery person inside her. It was where her personality was split down the middle: the generous, passionately empathetic advocate on one side, and the short-tempered, impulsive and callous dragon-like creature on the other. She pushed down her dark side because she was afraid of what she would become and who she would lose if she let it out, but she had to admit- from what she had felt the night of the party, she had liked who she was when she let it out.
She put her stylus down in its little holder and set aside her tablet, stretching deeply. She heard some commotion outside her office door and poked her head out.
"What's going on?" she asked Claudia, who was scurrying towards the crowd forming around the TV in the lounge area.
"The Joker is on TV threatening some Batman impersonator's life," she said over her shoulder. Salomé pulled on her Superga sneakers and headed towards the crowd just in time to see the Joker's grotesquely painted face on the large screen.
"I'm a man of my word," he growled out breathlessly. He laughed maniacally, the poor impersonator's screams echoing in the background. Her colleagues were abuzz, many of them holding their hands over their mouths in horrified shock. Salomé felt strange. The situation was so horrifying… he was so horrifying. She felt disgusted and her heart ached for the poor man who was no doubt losing his life as they spoke. But she also felt something else. She felt… stirred. Restless. She wanted to act out and be irresponsible. She walked stiffly back to her office and closed the door, leaning against it for a second to collect herself. Then she picked up her phone and sent a group text to Martha and Chloe.
Salomé Rowe: the world is so depressing right now. can we go out tonight and do something fun?
Chloe Horowitz: like what
Salomé Rowe: idk, clubbing or something? I wanna get drunk and be dumb.
Martha Fortune: are you okay? like are you having a nervous breakdown?
Martha Fortune: you hate clubbing.
Salomé Rowe: I know. i just feel like it for some reason, I don't even know.
Chloe Horowitz: well I'm down. we could go to that new club downtown that's like One Oak for the east coast
Martha Fortune: aka the cover is $100 and they let you smoke inside bc you're probably a celebrity?
Chloe Horowitz: yup.
Chloe Horowitz: except no $100 cover for us because we'll be with Salome… hehe
Salomé Rowe: not gonna lie, smoking inside sounds pretty dope right about now
Salomé Rowe: I'll text you guys after work tho, gotta get back to it
Salomé Rowe: I'll ask Claudia to put us on the guestlist for tonight
Martha Fortune: kk
Chloe Horowitz: biiiyeeeee
She tossed her phone back into her bag and sat back on the sofa to finish her sketches. She thought about the man the Joker had just killed, and felt a twist of grief in her stomach. It just made her want to drink even more. She didn't know what was going to happen tonight, but she felt excitement bubbling inside her. It was an unfamiliar feeling when it came to socializing.
Salomé walked confidently past the long line of partiers waiting to get into Le Disco, holding the hands of Chloe and Martha on either side of her. She felt the eyes of everyone on them and tried to push aside how uncomfortable it made her feel. After all, they did look amazing. Martha was wearing high-waisted skintight leather pants and a black satin bra top, which made her blonde hair pop and created a total femme fatale look.
Chloe was wearing a strapless burgundy suede micro-mini dress that was super tight on top and then flared out a little at her hips. She had on matching strappy heeled sandals and had swept her dark hair up into a messy but chic bun on top of her head.
Salomé had her hair down in loose waves and wore a white satin slip dress that came down just past her fingertips. It had a plunging v-neck and hung loose off her slim body, revealing her black lace bra. She wore fitted black leather high-heeled boots that ended just a couple inches below the hem of her dress on her upper thigh.
"Salomé Rowe," she said to the bouncer, then added, "plus two." The bouncer nodded and stepped aside, allowing them to pass. They dropped their coats off at the coat-check and stepped into the thick crowd. They made their way to the bar and ordered tequila shots.
"To not caring," Salomé toasted, raising her shot to her friends before licking the salt off her hand, tossing it back, and then sucking on the lime. "Another round," she told the bartender. They took two more before deciding to pace their drinking. Salomé was quite tipsy at that point. She sat sideways on her stool, facing her two friends. She lit a cigarette, and as expected, no one batted an eye.
"Salomé, that guy is totally checking you out," Chloe said.
"No, he isn't," Salomé said reflexively, without turning around.
"No, seriously, look," Martha said. "He's practically undressing you with his eyes."
She slowly looked over her shoulder and sure enough, a tall, good-looking guy with dark blonde hair was leaning against the bar, smirking at her. She offered him a slow grin before turning back to her friends.
"Let's go dance, shall we?" she said, tossing back her fifth shot (no salt, no lime this time) and sliding off her bar stool, pulling the chain strap of her purse over her head so it was sitting cross-body. She grabbed her friends' hands and pulled them to the dance floor. She closed her eyes and let her body move, finally at the point of drunkenness where the fire-breathing dragon inside her was lifting its head hopefully. It was ready to come out and play.
She was throwing her hands in the air, gyrating her hips, moving her feet. And then she felt a strong pair of hands sliding over her hipbones and a warm chest behind her back. Without her heeled boots, she would've come up chest-level with him, but as it was, her head was resting comfortably on his shoulder. She looked up into the face of the blonde-haired guy and smiled.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he yelled into her ear over the music.
"I don't know, can you?" she yelled back. He smirked and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, leading the way to the bar. She waggled her eyebrows at Chloe and Martha as she walked away.
"What are you drinking?" blonde guy asked.
"Tequila shots."
"You heard her, Chris," he said to the bartender and winked. "Make it extra special."
Chris the bartender set one shot in front of her and the other in front of blonde guy. "How do you know his name?" Salomé asked.
"I'm the manager and promoter for this club, so I know everyone here," he said. "Bottoms up." They knocked back the shots. "So, what's your name?"
"Bridgitte." She said the name without thinking and giggled internally. She was feeling very drunk now. She didn't ask him for his name. She didn't care what his name was.
"What do you do, Bridgitte?"
"I'm a graphic designer," she lied again. She wanted him to think she was normal, just another girl at the bar with her friends and not anyone worth whispering about.
"Really? What firm do you work for? I know a lot of graphic designers from when we were designing the logo for this club," he said.
"Oh, I really just do freelance," she said. She was beginning to feel dizzy and hot. A queasy feeling grew in her stomach and she swayed a little on her chair.
"Hey, you alright?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, I… I think I just need to get some air," she said, sliding gracelessly off the stool.
"Here, let me help you," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. The hem of her dress slid up with the pressure his hand was putting against her side, revealing her upper thigh.
"Thanks," she slurred gratefully. They made their way towards the back door and blonde guy pushed it open, guiding her through. It was freezing outside and she was only wearing her skimpy satin spaghetti strap dress, but she didn't feel the cold. In fact, she felt a thin sheen of sweat beginning to form on her skin.
The back of the club opened up to a small complex of alleys, the biggest of which was the one they were standing in just outside the club's door. There was a large crowd of smokers congregated, and the cloud of smoke they were generating was making Salomé want to gag. "Need to get away from this smoke," she choked out, placing the back of her hand over her nose. Blonde guy nodded, guiding her through and then away from the crowd. The dizziness was almost unbearable now, and her eyelids were starting to droop as she stumbled along, leaning heavily into him for balance.
She was dimly aware of cold brick on her bare back and a hand tangling itself in her hair. Something soft fluttered against her neck and there was a warm wall against the front of her body. She felt the wall disappear and lifted her lids enough to see blonde guy's body crouched down in front of her, his hands sliding up her boot-covered legs and fingers hooking into her underwear.
Then the wall of his body was back against her. She lifted her hands to his shoulders weakly, half hanging on to him for fear of her legs giving out and half trying to push him away. She felt her body shift and a dull pain on the back of her head as it smacked into the brick wall behind her. Her voice sounded far, far away as she protested, said no, told him to stop. Then she felt a sharp stab of pain deep in her body, and something horrible was filling her, and a hot wave of panic rose up in her chest before everything went black.
So there you have it, babes, Chapter 2. I'm sorry about the end, there. Soon you'll see why it was necessary. More Joker to come in Chapter 3, which I'm gonna post now.
xo, nightmoth
