Author's Note: First chapter is here! I just want to say thank you so flipping much for all the outstanding support and feedback you, as the readers, have already gifted this story with! I was hoping for a good reception, and it seems like the pairing of Joker, Bella, and Harley is going to end up quite popular. So, let's get to it!
P.S- All of your wonderful reviews/feedback will be answered through PM's (for those of you who have accounts) or down below (for those who review under guest names). Check it out!
Support and feedback is welcomed and encouraged, as always! Keep story hating and flames to yourself though, wouldn't want to find yourself facing The Joker's trigger finger, would you? ;)
Word Count: 4,116
Disclaimer & Warnings: See beginning!
-One-
Four Years Previously-
Gotham City, USA
The bustling city of Gotham was caught up in a torrential downpour, the likes of which had not been seen in some time. Water fell from the dreary blackness that had become the sky in steady flowing, rarely ceasing sheets. One could not step foot outside without becoming soaked to the skin, hair stringy and clumping, clothes hanging heavy on their frames, plastered to every dip, bend, and curve. The seemingly always busy streets had become treacherous paths with those braving the sky's tears scurrying along, splashing through puddles and navigating through flooded side streets and alleyways. Blue and deep gray had combined, creating a darkening indigo and an ominous atmosphere as flashes of light crackled across the sky, illuminating mountain-like thunder heads before it was quickly followed by a rumbling that vibrated one down to the very marrow in their bones as they ducked their heads, hoping for the best. It was chaos, a chaos that was amplified from Gotham's usual level of insanity lurking within the shadows by monstrous proportions, and as such, you had better believe that the city's troublemakers were making themselves more than busy.
Which was why Isabella Swan stood outside of Gotham City Police Department headquarters, her gaze stuck on the stone steps and high-reaching archways that made up the building's architecture, the rich suede of her new knee-high boots utterly ruined.
Seething.
The asshole had dumped her out of his fancy Lamborghini with a hustled (not to mention absolutely fake) apology as he tapped hurriedly at his phone, and the order to meet him at GCPD after he finished some business that she could, under no circumstances, be privy to. He had not considered the fact that the police station was at least fifteen blocks from where she has been abandoned, in a direction she was not aware (without the help of that lovely shopkeeper, who physically shooed her out of his store), nor that within thirty seconds of bailing on her an added weight of at least ten pounds in wet clothes had been added to her gait. Not to mention the soaked strands that hung in her face, obscuring her vision.
But really, who was complaining?
So there she was, standing on the sidewalk in front of the building, watching as uniforms darted back and forth across the main floor from behind stained glass. Her hair hung in limp, chunky locks around her head and her lightweight sweater had absorbed just about every ounce of rainwater it could manage, the result of which was cashmere that left behind rivulets of moisture with every step. She resembled a drowned rat. But her eyes, her eyes blazed with fury, turning them into icy shards that could pierce ones very soul and root them to the spot. If they hadn't already taken off running from her in fear, that is.
One foot in front of the other, step by step she neared the heavy glass doors, her fingers slicking across the handlebar as soon as she wrapped her fingers around that shiny golden metal and gave it a push. Skin squealed against metal for a moment, reminding her of a fresh pair of sneakers on a gymnasium floor, and suddenly the rain no longer pounded down upon her head any longer. Though that didn't stop the drops from continuing to trek down her temples, over the apple of her cheeks, prompting a shiver as they traced the column of her spine. Bella scuffed her feet along the mat, the soles of her ruined boots drying out just enough that they wouldn't annoyingly squeak with every step she made. She twisted her fists around the hem of her ivory sweater, watching with a slightly curled upper lip as tiny streams fell to the floor, creating darker circles within the mat's surface. Fingers combing haphazardly through the stray strands that had stuck themselves to her forehead and cheeks, her brows furrowed as the sight of frenzied police officers were the first things to greet her.
It had been months since she had last stepped foot in a police station, and her shoulders hunched with the simple thought of it, but she was more than aware that the spectacle before her wasn't a usual one.
They were all clustered together, a sea of uniforms crowding the lower floor some six or eight steps down. The conversation had caused a dim rumble amongst them, their whispers and murmurs all collecting into a dull roar of noise that was added to taps of fingers on keyboards, printers scanning back and forth wildly, phones ringing off the hook, and rowdy guests of the hot house that scuffled against their restraints, as well as the officers who brought them in. Almost all were looking toward the booking department, some sneaking glances as if afraid of what they might see, others blatantly staring with a mixture of expression that flickered across their faces; accomplishment, anxiety, and a foreboding unease as they darted looks over their shoulders, like the devil's phantom was lurking somewhere near.
Bella arched a curious eyebrow, but her eyes remained spanning the crowd, looking for a particular individual that she fully planned to screech at until she was blue in the face, when a bright shock of neon green caught her eye. It stood out within the crowd of black and blue, shockingly radiant and almost too loud for the dullness that was the inside of a police station. But still, that green...something about it. She scrambled to try and understand why that color cried out to her, beckoned her forward, screamed at her to come within reaching distance.
Her thoughts spun until she was practically dizzy, each of them gathering around and twirling dangerously, like a tilt-a-whirl that had lost any semblance of control. That flash of green. It was a bright color, not like the deep greens back in Washing-
GREEN! Green green pretty green. Touch it! Don't touch it, don't go near it. We're here for a reason. Yes, yes, truetruetrue. So pretty though, it's like a...like a lollipop, yes! Lollipops. Sour apple lollipops, you love sour apple lollipops, you know you want one, go go Stop! You never let me have any fun, what's the point without some laughs? You're a child. You're a-
Someone, a rookie with wide eyes and a far too exhilarated expression, jostled Bella's shoulder and she shook her head with a hint more force than necessary, quieting the raging vortex within her mind. She blinked, her vision clearing of its obvious haze as she pressed the pads of her middle three fingers to her forehead, as if she could physically shove the thoughts from her mind. Deep breath in, deep breath out. When she glanced up once more the crowd of officers had seemingly grown in size, near doubling, as if every employee from the very bowels of the Department had come to the main floor. Bella didn't know what could prove so interesting as to captivate an entire police force, and she didn't much care to find out. Instead, she pushed her way through the crowd, murmuring fake apologies to those that shoved by her after 'accidentally' jamming her heel into their toes. Looking right and left, lifting up on her toes in desperate attempts to see over those taller than her (which was damn near everyone), she let out a huff of annoyance, unable to find her target despite the fact that she had filtered through the entire crowd and now stood facing a long hallway with painted cinder-block walls and doors every fifteen feet or so.
Interrogation, she knew the set-up. It was familiar, just like back in For-
Questions, questions, youdon'tlikequestions. They like to ask questions!...The sound trailed off into soft giggles, bordering the line of hysteria, and Bella found her fingers massaging her temples, her eyes squeezing shut to block out the trilling noise. Somehow, in doing so, she completely failed to take notice of the sudden silence that doused the room behind her.
All aside from quiet laughter, a round of muffled chuckles that were tainted with a similar mania to the one inside her head. Masculine though, husky, almost like a growl.
It made her freeze. Hadn't...hadn't she heard that before?
She had initially thought the sound wasn't one that could be heard by others, but the sudden stillness and the jolt of tension in the atmosphere proved differently. Bella stared, unseeingly, down that long hallway with the inexplicable feeling that if she took a chance, if she turned around and acknowledged the (almost) familiar whatever-it-was behind her that had plunged some fifty-something officers of the law into absolute silence, everything would change, again. Did it matter, really? The laughter was turning more snarl-like, annoyance at being ignored, no doubt. What did she have to lose? There was nothing to go back to, no home, no fam-
Turn around! It'll be fun and we like fun, turn around! Turn around, looklooklook! You know you want to! Do it, do it, pleaseeee doitdoitdoitdoit.
Bella's eyes started low as she spun, and she quickly decided that the cuffs and heavy chains weighing down both ankles and wrists, did absolutely nothing to hinder the level of power and intimidation one man seemed to hold. His slacks were black and crisp despite the obvious rough handling, the oxfords on his feet shined enough that she could see her reflection -wide eyed and slightly distorted in the dazzlingly flashy purple leather- and the deep purple button down billowing around his chest was made of silk, the top half of the buttons left open to reveal an array of black ink tattoos that splashed across a finely toned chest. Her heart seemed to palpitate in her chest, undecided between skipping a beat and doubling in time, her breath hitching audibly in her throat as she traced the letters scrawled across his left pectoral, slowly continuing up until they met the outline of playing cards, a suit of aces that spread out over the column of his neck and reached out over his clavicle.
She swallowed harshly, noticing how dry her mouth was, how her lips had parted without her realization and were now chapped as she continued to stare, watching the way the muscles in his strong neckline flexed and jumped with an open-mouthed awe she was trying desperately to overcome.
Ohhhyes. Yesyesyes! Delicious, yummynummy. Take a taste, you need a taste, like a lollipop remember? You love those, you'll love- You're drooling.
The impatient snarl transformed, adopting a more sultry feel to it as it deepened in pitch, leaving behind the demanding annoyance, replacing it with a praising, soothing purr as the chest it vibrated through rose and fell a tad more noticeably. Her lashes fluttered over her cheekbones, just brushing the soft skin when her eyes closed involuntarily, a shudder visibly rippling down her spine while liquid heat seemed to follow. Something unfurled within the pit of her belly without her permission, something she had been trying her best to bury; wild, sensuously tempting, a wickedly ravenous need. The noise around the room had long dropped away, with only the captivating sounds he was making and the thunderous beat of her heart there to fill Bella's hearing. And her breathing. Was she panting? That was embarrassing. Didn't matter, she couldn't seem to stop, her chest rose and fell repeatedly, straining against the waterlogged material that clung to her every curve.
Suddenly, a firm body pressed flush along the line of her own, and a nose buried itself in her hair, scenting from temple to crown as surprisingly warm lips moved against soft skin. There was a flurry of voices somewhere behind them, but the only one she heard was his, impossibly deep and lined with tangible dominance; a rasp on his tongue and a growl in his throat, and she finally understood why the sound, the feel of him was so damn familiar.
"Hello again, dollface."
~.-.~
It was green. Not a hunter green or a forest green, not the green of trees and grass alike, nor a Crayola green which was a staple among every single box of crayons there ever was. No, it was a bright green. Neon, blazing green. So green it was practically luminous, that she doubted one would ever have trouble finding him if they lost him in a crowd. His hair was green. Down the street people ran, screams on their lips and tears in their eyes. Behind her gunshots rang out, pattering stone and marble as the firearms swung wildly, intent on creating chaos more than taking lives. Tat!Tat!Tat!
But, his hair was green, and she couldn't seem to help the giggle that peeled from her lips.
He was an array of colors.
The hair was green but his eyes were blue, bright and invasive, predatory, calculating your every move and reaction. They were circled by thin, short eyelashes and deep shadows that spanned over his eyelids and beneath his eyes. His lips were red, blood red, almost as if someone had taken a tube of lipstick and coated them with the entire thing. Black markings were tattooed into his skin depicting what looked to be a hand-carved capital 'J' on his left cheekbone, toward the corner of his eye, and a professionally done script that read 'Damaged' across his forehead. They stood out in a stark contrast to his startlingly white skin, a hue so pale that it reminded her of the past, yet it held no sparkle in the direct sunlight, thank the-
Sparkles! We HATE the sparkles, sparkles are bad. They hurt. Bad sparkles, badbad-
Bella shook her head forcefully from side to side, shoving the sound from her mind and the loose strands of hair from her face as she glanced back up again to be captured within the man's penetrating gaze, just missing the knowing look of realization and the flickering hint of interest before it was replaced with a manic glee.
"You aren't running, doll."
It was a statement, not a question, but there was one hidden in the man's eyes behind all that menacing mania as he peered down at her, looming over her five-four height with what must have been his own six-four. Perhaps five. She really couldn't tell, considering she deemed herself incapable of ripping her eyes away from his. She didn't think to censor her words, didn't think to watch her mouth as her hip cocked to one side and a single eyebrow arched in dubious confusion.
"Should I be?" Her tone was half breathy, half annoyed by her apparent lack of control, and it amused him to no end. If the hysterical cackling sound pouring from between silver-capped teeth and ruby lips was any indication.
Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, he laughed with abandon from the very depths of his belly as he rocked back and forth on his heels, swinging what Bella now recognized to be an automatic rifle in his hand with little caution or care. She should have run screaming just like all the other Gotham City residents that had been hurrying along the sidewalk before the doors of what she assumed to be a bank (How was she supposed to know? She'd only been in town four days after all. But they were carrying heavy duffle bags from the stone building by the armful, so two and two usually made four...) had blown open with impressive force, a torrent of gunfire and mad laughter welcoming the scene. But all she felt was a slight twinge of alarm. It's not like she WANTED him to shoot her, or anything.
Bella's eyes followed the pathway of the gun as it swung wildly to and fro, until the alluring rasp of his voice swallowed up her attention once more. Her eyes widened marginally when she realized that in her distraction, he had closed the distance between them, reducing what had been just short of ten feet to what was probably less than two. The smell of him was mouthwatering and she fought to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head as the urge to tip her head to the side submissively pulsed throughout her body, his scent that was noticeably both masculine and expensive, with a hint of gun powder and something sharper, dousing her senses.
"Don't you know who I am?" He practically purred through the words, lengthening some, as he towered over her with a smirk curling the line of his lips, a flash of silver glinting in the light.
She shook her head slowly, hair swirling around her shoulder blades. "No..."
When he lost his smirk and his lips turned down unhappily, his eyes darkening into an unimpressed glare as they lost their gleeful amusement, she rushed to reassure him for some unknown reason.
"But I've only just moved here from Washingt-
Her voice trailed off in a hiss as a shout reverberated off the insides of her skull, screeching indignantly and making her physically cringe, as if she could somehow escape the sound of it. But it followed her, admonishing and chiding her as if she were a child, just like she had promised it no longer did.
Get away from him Bella! He's dangerous!
"Washington State," She coughed, shaking her head and clearing her throat all at once before she glanced back up at him, freezing when she caught a faint hint of understanding in his eyes.
He sidled closer then, if that was even possible, dipping his head as he invaded her personal space (not that she was complaining...why the hell wasn't she complaining?). Pulling in a shuddering breath that only prompted what seemed like an actual feline purr, he pulled away once more, throwing his arms out theatrically as he bowed at the waist for her.
"Well then, allow me to introduce myself. A pretty little doll just like you should always know what name to call,"
He cackled again, flashing her a wink and a toying smirk, all in one go.
"I am the infamous Jester of Genocide, the Ace of Knaves, the Clown Prince of Crime-" His voice dipped low again, losing the edge of crazed giggles as he curled around her body, fingers tickling up her arms and across her collarbone. "And the King of Gotham, sweets. I am The Joker."
He waited expectantly then, anxiously wanting to hear her screams as she fled when she realized just who he was, though he knew he would fist a hand in those long, luscious locks of hers to keep her right by his side. For some reason, he wasn't inclined to let her go. She blinked once, twice, doe eyes wide and far too deviously innocent for her own good as her tongue snuck out, wetting her lips and jump-starting the rumbling growl in his chest once more, while she searched for something, anything to say to him.
"I like your hair."
Joker blinked back at her, twice, before throwing his head back in a sinister exhilaration as his laughter took to the air, echoing down the streets of Old Gotham.
~.-.~
"I told you I would be seeing you soon," His voice brought her back, and she gasped when his teeth suddenly nipped at the shell of her ear, drawing a squeak from her lips with the sharp zap of pleasurable pain that raced along her spine.
When she finally spoke, her voice was nothing more than a breathy, shuddery whisper.
"Joker."
Seven Months Post Cullen Departure
Swan Residence
Forks, Washington, USA-
She screamed.
It was the first sound she had made above a whisper or quiet murmur, in what was easily six months. It was shrill and sharp, blood curdling. It could send an ominous chill down the spine of any and all who heard it, almost like a banshee wailing for the impending doom of one of her own. It echoed for miles, bouncing off trees, frightening the forest critters that roamed about, until it was quieted by the dull roar of waves upon reaching the shore. But there, in the farm house style living room where she sat in a crumpled heap upon the floor, looking like a Carrie movie reject with her mouth frozen wide open in the never-ending sound, it echoed. Pulsed. Reverberated.
Cracked glass and threatened ear drums.
She was painted red.
From head to toe, it covered her. Staining her skin, dripping from the split-ends of her hair that had grown to hip length, soaking through the jeans she wore and the sweater that draped over her torso. The material was in shreds, hanging off her body, leaving the red to seep in along her skin. Streaks of it spread across her belly, trailed down the valley of her breasts, smeared along her neck and thighs. Her cheeks had smudged crimson on them, a swipe of it along her forehead, under her right eye. It filled the creases in her palms, caked under her nails, and no matter how loud or how long she screamed, it wasn't going away. Everything was red.
Red, red...
Redredredredredredred.
Her scream called to them, and they came running. All paws and fur and shared thoughts of frantic worry, complimenting glistening, sharp fangs that glinted menacingly in the sunlight that threatened to break through the trees.
They sprinted, bounded, hurdled over the railing of the back porch as clothes were thrown hastily between them and the back door was ripped from its very hinges, tumbling through into the kitchen. Tall, broad, bronze and copper skinned. Sleek lined muscles and terrible growls that were quickly escalating into roars as they took in the sweet, too sweet, rottenly sweet, scent that was mixed with a heavy amount of iron. It masked the home and the scent of honeysuckles that signified their pack sister, making them all the more feral and furious. They jolted to a halt there when they caught sight of her, a picture of nothing but red as she screamed and rocked, screamed and rocked, bloody hands clutching at the limp body that was strewn across her lap.
If you could call it a body.
Could you call the shredded pieces of Forks' Police Chief a body?
Snarls ripped from their throats, fingers curled into claws which pierced the soft underside of their palms, Quileute blood dripping and mixing with the pints of life-giving liquid that already painted the living room red.
Red, red...red.
She hated red.
Present Time
Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana, USA-
He caught a glimpse of her petite form slumped across a shiny metal table through the tiny square window of the door as his fingers curled around the handle, his free hand reaching out to press the green button that would release the heavy lock and grant him access. But thick, meaty fingers suddenly clamped down on his shoulder, wrenching him away from his destination as the guardsman spun him around, a disapproving scowl highlighting the features of his face; mud-colored eyes, mustache, and all.
"If you'll wait just a damn minute, I've got a few things you might want before you go in there." The man snapped, glaring hatefully as he ripped a small package from the inside of his vest.
It was dumped into the doctor's pale hands carelessly, glinting faintly in the fluorescent lights that flickered above them. Golden eyes surveyed the item clutched in his grip, brows furrowing in confusion when he realized they looked like some sort of modified ear pieces, much like hearing aids or the communication links that he had seen many of the guardsmen using as he traveled deep into the halls of Belle Reve.
"Why are you giving these to me?" He questioned, lifting his arm to return them.
The guard snorted, fixing him with scornful expression, "What, so you don't know everything after all?" Fingers tapping in a code to exit the hallway once more, his dull brown gaze twisted sinisterly. "Did I forget to mention, that when I said she put my men in the hospital using only a paper clip, she also used her voice?"
He stared, stunned into a shocked stillness that he could not comprehend.
"Good luck, Doc."
-Responses-
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-Guest #1: I'm so glad to hear that you enjoyed the lead-in to this story so much! I really hope that you enjoy this new chapter just as much, and continue returning for Joker/Bella/Harley's story! :)
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