Chapter Two
Although he did not know it at the time, it was almost two in the morning when a loud banging sounded from behind the Joker's bedroom door. His jaw clenched in annoyance even though he knew deep inside that he was more than happy to be drawn away from his drunken reverie.
"What is it?" he growled, sitting up on the bed and touching ear to shoulder on both sides to achieve a sharp crack. His eyes slowly rolled upwards as the door opened, a tunnel of light from the hallway eerily illuminating his sinister features. There was a brief shuffle before the source of the interruption presented itself. The nervous young man standing in the entryway swore to himself it was the devil-incarnate glaring back at him. The Joker snatched the glass of vodka that rested beside him and greedily threw back its contents with one swift glide of the hand, clenching his eyes tightly as he slammed the empty tumbler back on the table. The boy in front of him, not a year over twenty, wrung his sweaty hands together as he stumbled over what he came to say.
"I'm s-sorry to bother you, sir…it's just that I thought you should know that I gave Miss Dawes the letter just like you told me too."
"And she bought it?" The Joker asked, using a sleeve to wipe any residual liquor off his crimson-stained mouth.
"Y-yes, sir. I believe so – I mean, yes...definitely. I was there when she read it. Didn't question me at all when I told her it was from Mr. Wayne. She got all upset and left in a hurry."
"Good, good." He said quietly as he reached for the bottle of vodka to pour himself another round. The boy remained staring at his employer, still wringing his hands as he wrestled in his mind whether or not to continue. " And you are still here, because…?"
A large lump traveled down the young man's throat before the first few words came out an octave higher than usual. "Well, sir…the-the money you promised, remember?"
The glass emptied into his throat – that tongue tracing and moistening the contours of his scars. "Ahhhh, yes!" he exclaimed with theatrical excitement. "My, my! How could I possibly forget such a detail? Let's see…let me just grab my purse…"
At the last word, the Joker lunged at the boy within three hunched strides, pulling a knife from his breast pocket and forcing it beneath his trembling Adam's apple. Pushed against the wall and half the size of his opponent, the kid was helpless. He started to sputter and cry as he felt the newly sharpened blade draw a prick of blood on his neck. With one hand grasped firmly in the boy's greasy black mane, the Joker drew his face only inches away, licking his lips. His putrid breath, magnified by years of alcohol use and poor oral hygiene made the boy's nostrils sting.
"Oh, now, shh, shh, shh." He cooed. "Look at me! Where are my manners? I can't even remember you name. What is your name, friend?"
The boy continued to shake, closing his eyes so he would not have to look the monster fully in the face. The Joker's sarcastic tone snapped dramatically.
"Look at me. Looook at meeeee. LOOK AT ME!" He growled finally, squeezing the cheeks of his prey so tight it forced the boy's eyes to shoot open out of pure reflex. The intensity relaxed for a moment as he calmly stroked his right cheek, then the left with the back of his hand. The boy stiffened even more, however, when the Joker removed the knife from his neck and began tracing the blade lightly along his jaw line "Now," He asked simply. "Remind me your name."
"It's B-Brian. Brian!" He cried pathetically. "Just don't kill me, please! I'm begging you, man! Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. "
The Joker rolled his eyes up in contemplation. "Well, you see, Brian. That's where we might have a little problem. You see – I hurt people. You can say it's what I do for a living. I'm not a 'good guy'." Two fingers made quotations in the air. "I don't 'play by the rules'." He repeated the finger gesture.
"I have deep…seeded emotional problems." With each word, the knife pushed a little deeper into Brian's stubbly cheek.
"Oh, God, man!" he whimpered, trying desperately to squirm away from this heinous villain's grasp. "Please! I'm too young to die!"
The Joker pulled back slightly in mock surprise. "Oh, come now, Brian. We aren't being honest with ourselves here, are we? You're a smart kid. Did you really think I was going to just let you walk out of here with the knowledge you have plus a pile of my hard-stolen greenbacks? Hmmm? Now, does that really make sense to you? Hmmm? Answer me."
A string of mucus started to come out of Brian's nose as he cried even more. "Ah, come on! People do a lot of crazy shit when they need money. You got to believe me, man. I won't say a thing to nobody."
Any hint of playfulness on the Joker's face rapidly faded at the words of this blubbering moron. The knife was returned to his victim's neck.
"Oh, you're right there, buckaroo. But I have to say, not everyone has it as grand as you do. I mean – a swift cut right to the jugular vein?" The knife inched its way a few centimeters to the side. Brian trembled and squeezed his eyes shut in dreaded anticipation. "So quick, so…easy. The pain goes away in a matter of seconds and you just…" His hand fluttered above his head momentarily. "Drift off to sleep."
The Joker licked his lips and pulled the boy even closer. "You die knowing you made one hell of a mistake, but thinking to yourself… 'Boy! At least that's over!' You die without another care in the world – go down in history as just another poor, innocent youngster of sucked into the snares of one of Gotham's most notorious criminals. Yes…you will just drift off to sleep. Go to heaven or hell, or wherever you feel you belong. A beautiful, simple, physical death."
Brian could feel the Joker's grip tighten behind his head. He could also feel the anger and wickedness begin to boil and erupt through his captors words as he continued. Each phrase grew louder than the last. "How wonderful it must be to just have everything ended for you in one…quick…slice. To not have to stand by and watch the one thing you truly love in this world be ripped away from you – for that person to be defiled and made to suffer in a way you could never possibly imagine."
There was a brief moment of silence between both men. The Joker's tone became much more somber and silent. "Do you know why men fear me so much? Hmmm? Have you figured that out yet, kiddo?"
Brian shook his head quickly, loosening tears that fell down his cheeks. He could feel teeth of the blade twice as much as he swallowed hard. "No."
The Joker rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Okay, then, I'll tell you. You see, people are so scared of me because of have no fear myself, and do you know why that is?"
The response was a silent shake of the head.
"Errrrrrrr" The Joker buzzed with his voice. "Wrong answer. I have no fear because – now listen closely… I am already dead!" A high-pitched, cackling laugh ensued that terrified Brian even more. "Yes, I died eight years ago." He gave a slight notion of the head over his shoulder. "In this very room, in fact."
Brian remained silent, and he was unsure if it was fear that paralyzed his voice or the cold press of the blade against his throat.
"What I would have given to be in your shoes on that day – to be able to just…die – for her to be spared all that pain."
A look of confusion passed over Brian's face. He tried his pleas one final time. "Please – please, just let me go. Let me go…"
The Joker's face stilled then slowly grew into a large, sinister grin. "Well…I guess I am feeling generous today, and you are such a good-looking kid, soooo…"
Brian's face relaxed with more relief than he had ever felt in his short lifetime. "Oh, thank y- " But Brian's final word could not be formed because at that very moment, the Joker let his hand stroke that critical vein with impressive dexterity, his facial muscles barely flinching as he let the young man's body drop lifelessly from his arms to the grown below. Slowly removing a white handkerchief from his pocket, he raised the blade to wipe it clean before returning it to his jacket pocket. There was a small, partially shattered mirror a few feet away that he walked towards, stepping lightly as to not soil his shoes in the blood that began to pool beside his latest victim. When he reached it, he took a deep breath, licked his lips, and tried in vain to smooth the ragged mass of tinted hair on top of his head.
He had to at least try to look presentable, however. After all…he had a date.
Rachel…
You're not safe there. The Joker has Harvey and he will be after you next. Meet me at 216 Market, apt. 901 as soon as you can. Please do this one thing for me, Rach. Let me protect you. Gotham won't be safe if he makes me choose between you and the city. I will always choose you.
Bruce