Leila paced the living room of her apartment, beating a path into the floor with each pass she made. Her cell phone was sitting on the dining table, silent, dark and she watched it sporadically, shooting glances toward the device every few seconds as though expecting it to explode. Only minutes prior, the Joker had told her to wait for a call, which would explain her first instructions. She cast an anxious glance at the tall windows of the far wall; the sun was going down, projecting a flaming orange glow through the room. Part of her wanted to feel nervous that she would be out after dark, running an errand for the Joker, but she felt that perhaps she ought to start getting used to it. It did not seem likely that the most wanted man in Gotham did much 'business' in broad daylight. Leila was hoping that her involvement with his schemes would be kept to a minimum.
The sound of her phone ringing might as well have been cannon fire with the way it shattered the silence of her apartment and caused her to jump. Exhaling heavily through her nose, she approached it and answered hastily, unwilling to imagine the sort of trouble she would be in if she were to miss the call.
"Hello?"
"You will leave your building in ten minutes, and drive to the parking garage at the corner of 8th and Stile. A man will meet you on the third floor." Click.
The abruptness of this call left Leila standing there for several moments with the phone pressed to her ear, frowning down at her pad of paper and pencil in confusion. That was it? The voice on the other end had not belonged to the Joker but the unfamiliar man had clearly been instructed to call in his stead, bearing the rather frustratingly vague information. Shaking her head, Leila copied the address and set her phone down, feeling annoyed with herself for the slight pang of disappointment that shot through her. If anything, she should have been relieved beyond belief that the specified parking garage was only a five to ten minute drive from her building and that this was the only thing being asked of her...so far.
After hurriedly applying some fresh clothes and tying her unruly hair back into a ponytail, Leila stood in the short hallway near her kitchen, staring intently at the time on the microwave screen. Only two minutes remained before she was supposed to leave, but Leila was having second thoughts. Was this really what she wanted to do? Going on this errand was the deathblow to her somewhat normal existence, launching her into a world of crime and a fear-laden life, constantly anxious over being caught, or worse, killed. If she acted now and drove straight to the police department, she might be able to end this before it could start. She had gone over both sides of the argument ceaselessly all day, first making up her mind to call the police, call her father, find someone who could help her get out of this mess. But the money had been the deciding factor, no matter which way she looked at it. She was close to losing her home, even closer to losing her car, and the fifteen thousand dollars was a way out of her debt. So yes, she did need to do this. Besides, when had the police ever helped her in the past?
For a Thursday night, the streets of Gotham were surprisingly busy, people walking to and fro, entering restaurants and movie theaters, shopping and seemingly at ease with their lives. Leila could not help but feel rather envious of them, but had to remind herself of the payment she would be receiving for agreeing to live in such doubt and dread. The parking garage was fairly close to her apartment, though she wished it was further. She could use another few minutes to gather her racing thoughts and gain some external composure.
It was a short-term garage, monitored at its entrance by a guard in a small booth, who leaned out and motioned for Leila to roll down her window as her car approached. She obeyed the instruction, hitching a casual smile onto her face.
"How long you stayin'?" he asked, reaching back into his booth for a pen and a pad of tickets. Leila took a deep breath, sighing in a thoroughly nonchalant sort of way.
"Oh, probably just a few minutes," she answered. "I'm meeting a friend."
The guard hesitated. Leila could see his eyes bouncing back and forth between hers from behind his lightly tinted sunglasses. She felt her stomach seize up and an increasingly familiar drop of dread sank down into her stomach; was she about to be stopped this early on? "Well, I'll still have to charge you the ten dollars for an hour park, okay?" he asked a few moments later and it took a great deal of effort to prevent Leila from sighing in relief. She let out a short laugh instead, reaching over into the passenger seat for her wallet.
"That's fine. I understand," she answered, still smiling as she handed the man a ten dollar bill. The guard nodded his head once, slipping the bill into a drawer and pressing a large green button on the desk to operate the mechanical barrier in front of Leila's car.
"Alright, have a nice night."
"I sure hope so," Leila breathed desperately to herself as her window rolled up and her car moved forward into the interior of the multilevel garage.
Almost as though it had been planned that way, each ascending level of the garage was absolutely packed with cars, people walking to and from their vehicles, laughing, carrying on, not paying a single moment of attention to anything suspicious or otherwise that might have been happening. Leila found this to be something of a blessing. If she was to be meeting with her 'friend' in a camera-monitored parking facility, it was quite fortunate that there were so many people around. This left less of a chance for the guard to have his eye on any one spot for longer than a few seconds, if he happened to be paying any attention at all. Leila had long since abandoned her trust in public safety figures to keep her safe.
Slowly, steadily she wound her way through the crowded garage, avoiding vehicles as they backed out of parking spaces, and keeping her eyes peeled for the strange man she was supposed to be meeting. What sort of car did criminals drive? She supposed a white van was sort of cliché but she could not imagine this person, someone who she assumed worked for the Joker, driving anything nicer than that. Perhaps, once she reached the third level and circled it once, the man would make himself apparent to her, make it so there was no mistake in his identity. Leila certainly hoped that would be the case.
As her car leveled out on the inclined ramp leading to the third floor of the garage, she leaned forward slightly in the seat, glancing left and right at the rows of parked, empty cars on either side of the lane. The situation was really starting to make her nervous. If it was some elaborate trap to kidnap her or something of that nature, being in a crowded parking garage may or may not have been helpful. Leila was just wondering distractedly how loud she would be able to scream when her car turned a corner and her 'friend' was immediately obvious.
A young man was standing at the end of a silver Mercedes Benz, wearing black sweatpants and a plain gray t-shirt, one of his ankles crossed over the other, revealing an expensive-looking pair of running shoes as he leaned against the back of the vehicle. He seemed nonchalant with his arms folded across his chest, perfectly at ease with his task, and although there was not necessarily an air of wrongdoing about him, Leila could tell without question that this was the person she was supposed to be meeting. As her car approached, the man turned his head toward the noise, lowered his head slowly, watching her closely through the windshield from behind his dark, soon to be unnecessary sunglasses. Ever so slightly, his head jerked in the direction of a single empty parking space several cars down from his car, indicating discreetly that he would like her to pull in there. Leila obeyed this instruction without hesitation, but glanced over her shoulder as her car moved past, watching with another inkling of anxiety as the man began following her on foot.
Her small gold Camry came to a stop in the parking spot, though before she could even reach for the gear to shift it into park, her passenger door was being opened and the man was sliding into the seat beside her, bringing the heavy scent of sweat and cigarettes with him. He exhaled heavily, glancing to his right into the rear view mirror just outside the window to watch observantly as a small family walked past the back of Leila's car. She held her breath, partly from the overwhelming stench of tobacco smoke, but mostly due to the fact that she knew she was breathing a bit more heavily than normal; her nerves were at an all time high.
"So you must be 'da doc," the man said, revealing a very strong New England style accent. Leila blinked. That was not nearly what she had expected him to say.
"I'm not a- a doctor," she stammered, caught off guard by his words. "I'm just-"
"Look, I don't got all day," he interrupted, prompting Leila to instantly shut her mouth and lean back slightly in her seat, turned toward him to keep him as fully in her sight as possible. "I was told to give you 'dese, so that's what I'm doin'." Lifting his hips out of the seat, the man reached a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants, and what he removed from it nearly made Leila's heart stop; it was a stack of one hundred dollar bills, bound together with a rubber band. He reached over to hand it to her, but Leila was so astounded by seeing that much cash in one place, intended just for her, that she hesitated. The man seemed to think her reaction was due to suspicion rather than pure shock as he sighed impatiently, moving his head in a way that suggested he had rolled his eyes from behind his black shades. "I swear it's all there. Five G's directly from the guy in charge," He paused turning his head to look over at her and his heavy eyebrows rose from behind the frames of his sunglasses. "There's a note in there wit' another address where you meet the guy to get your stuff. So go there now, no other stops or nothin'."
With that, the man opened the door and climbed out, leaving Leila confused but ultimately surprised at the simplicity with which the event had taken place. She leaned to the side toward the closing passenger door to quickly open her mouth and ask a question, but the door slammed in her face. Just as quickly as the man had appeared, he was gone, walking back to his car and leaving Leila to exhale heavily through her nose, staring down at the stack of crisp bills in her hand. This was it. This was the answer to her problems and it was not even the full amount she had been promised. Honestly, just the five thousand was enough to pay her bills and get her out of the red, but she supposed the other ten would not exactly hurt either. Glancing into all three of her rear view mirrors, she hesitated, watching for passers-by before using her thumb to flip the stack of money like a deck of very valuable playing cards. Amidst the green, Leila's eyes caught sight of a flash of white and she stopped, thumbing backward a few bills until she found the slip of paper.
"Westside bridge, the Narrows, 8:30"
The Narrows. She had been expecting this. Any shady and underhanded dealings were almost always conducted in that part of the city, as though it had been deemed unfit for legal, normal life. It was the underbelly of Gotham, where the most low, scummy criminals lived and now Leila was being asked to go there, to do some of her own shady dealings. Did that make her one of them? Was she dooming herself to a life of illegality by going there? There was still time. She could still go to the police, turn in the money and the note and send a few SWAT members to the Westside bridge in her stead.
With another heavy sigh, she pushed her car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot, using her free hand to slide the handsome wad of money into the tight, concealed space between her car seat and the plastic wall of the center console. That money was hers and she'd be damned if she sacrificed the opportunity at a comfortable lifestyle for her sense of decency. The time was rapidly approaching eight o'clock so if she was going to be at the bridge on time, she had to be leaving then. The main entrances to the Narrows were on the opposite side of town from where she was, and Leila wondered if perhaps the Joker had already calculated that. If this was indeed the case, it begged the idea that the Joker knew where she lived and that was not a comfortable notion whatsoever.
The sun was now fully below the horizon, the last of the rays fading quickly as Leila took backstreets through the city, every now and again slipping her hand between the seat and center console, running one finger along the stack of money as though reassuring herself that this was all going to be worth it. Either that, or she felt the need to double check that it was there and she had not simply imagined it.
Light became more scarce, buildings became increasingly decrepit until Leila found it hard to believe that anyone, criminal or not, could live in them. The seemingly normal, happy and carefree people started to disappear from her surroundings as she moved toward the Narrows, and soon she was surrounded by nothing but distant car alarms, dimly lit, cardboard-covered windows and scattered, random people who looked as though they would love nothing better than to rob her. Her left hand slowly dropped from the steering wheel to the car door on her left as she pulled up at a stoplight, where she pushed down on the lock button, making doubly sure that she was secure. It seemed only fitting that she should be mugged while out running her first errands as the Joker's newest employee; she was not about to tempt fate by leaving her car unlocked.
Turning a corner, Leila felt that progressively familiar sense of dread and fear creeping up on her yet again as her eyes noticed a turn off up ahead, leading to none other than the infamous Westside bridge. This area was not even remotely close to her teams district, but she had heard stories over the past year of the gruesome murder victims that had been found beneath the old stone structure. Countless junkies who had succumbed to an overdose had turned up there, along with many a frozen or starved homeless person and Leila had to question, for what seemed like the millionth time, what the hell she was doing by going there.
As she approached the turn off, a dark, dirt path leading down off the street, she glanced into her rear view mirror and out of both car windows to either side of her, checking for police officers. So distracted by her nerves and checking the time every few minutes, she had completely failed to come up with some clever excuse as to what she was doing under a bridge in the dark with a stranger if someone were to show up and ask. But she supposed if a cop were to appear, she should take that as a sign that she was not meant to do this. Then she could explain what had happened over the past two days and what was being expected of her. Yes, she'd have to turn over the money but at least her life would be back to normal; back to living from paycheck to paycheck, praying her power would stay on... Leila hoped the police would stay out of the meeting.
Upon turning off her headlights, the darkness beneath the bridge became more dense, heavy as though a blanket had been draped over the scene, the only lights emanating from the distant inner city of Gotham. Her car came to a stop completely beneath the bridge and for several long moments, she sat completely still, her breathing slow and deep, the only sound she could hear besides the vague rushing and gurgling of the canal beneath the bridge overhead. She was entirely alone there, no other car, no homeless people camping out, no junkies getting their fix. Just Leila and her stack of money, locked inside her car. Again, she wondered in a rush of panic if this was some cleverly assembled trap, if the Joker had simply lured her there to have her killed or kidnapped. But then, the time on her dash read only 8:26. Perhaps she was simply early.
Lo and behold, only a minute later, the sound of tires crunching loose gravel caught her attention and upon looking up, Leila could see a white van rounding the opposite corner. The headlights were off, just as hers had been and it was crawling toward her car, coming to a stop only once it had pulled up right alongside her. Looking over, she could make out a bald head through the glass of the front window and her gaze shifted quickly to the side panels of the van, where the words 'Cool Time AC installation and repair' were faded and chipped against the white paint. Was this who she was supposed to be meeting? Or was this simply a coincidence that some other person had showed up here to perform their own underhanded business transaction? The door opened and out stepped a tall, heavyset man, who glanced around before approaching the driver side window of Leila's car. She held her breath as he reached out and knocked on her window. In response, she rolled it down by only a few inches so he could speak through the crack.
"Leila Hawkin?" asked a gruff voice. She swallowed hard upon hearing her name leave the man's mouth, but nodded hastily, glancing upward instinctively when the bridge rumbled, a car passing by overhead. "Alright, get out and open the trunk."
Oh god, Leila thought in another rush of panic. He's about to knock me out and put me in my own trunk.
Hoping for the best but expecting the worse, Leila obeyed and got out of her car slowly, but left it running in case she needed to make a quick getaway. The stranger was sliding open the wall of his van and as she walked past, she chanced a glance inside, but found that it was too dark to make out the identity of any one shape. However as she turned, after opening the trunk of her car, she nearly jumped when the man suddenly appeared at her side, holding a large, surprisingly familiar bag of equipment. Leila felt her stomach give a lurch; it was exactly like the one she had at work, to a tee, even down to the 'Gotham City EMS' logo emblazoned across the front. She pointed it at it, mouthing wordlessly as the man hoisted the bag into her car and reached up to push the metal trunk hatch closed. He turned to her but ignored her silent stammering as he reached into his pocket, only for his hand to reappear holding a small, basic cell phone.
"This is for you," he grunted. Leila took the phone slowly, quickly looking up at him to ask what she was supposed to do now, but he was already moving away, glancing back and forth along the dirt path as he climbed back into his van. Finally, she found her tongue, trotting toward his window, tossing her arms in confusion and frustration that she had gone through so much emotional turmoil that evening in exchange for a painfully small amount of information.
"What am I supposed to do now?" she asked, raising her voice slightly to be heard through the window, behind which the man was now pulling back on the gear to shift into drive. He glanced over, but to her dismay only shook his head as if to indicate that he was either not supposed to tell her or that he did not know. The van began moving forward so Leila huffed in annoyance and took a step back, turning to her car to slide back into the driver's seat. Obviously, she felt she ought to be grateful that more had not been demanded of her that evening, but she still did not feel entirely satisfied. Something more, something concrete needed to be explained to her, like a defined job description, just so she could be absolutely sure of what she was getting herself into.
Suddenly, the cell phone in her hand was ringing shrilly, shattering the silence within her car and causing her to jump with a gasp and look down at the lighted device. Her eyebrows furrowed. The screen did not give a name for the caller, nor a phone number, just the word 'Unknown' as it continued to ring, one sharp, high-pitched trill after another. Hurriedly, Leila pressed her thumb to the green button to answer it, though a deep, sinking part of her already had a vague idea of whose voice she was about to hear. She did not give a greeting, but simply listened.
"What's up, doc?" asked a nasally, raspy voice through the speaker next to her ear. The hair along Leila's arms began to rise; even through the phone, she could feel his menace. She swallowed once in an effort to clear her throat, before responding.
"You tell me," she replied. "I just met with someone under the Westside bridge and-"
"Good, go-o-o-o-o-o-d", growled the voice of the Joker. "So I'm sure you're wondering where you're supposed to go now? Home, maybe?"
Leila hesitated, glancing into her rear view mirror anxiously, checking that there was still no one pulling down the dirt ramp behind her. "Yes," she answered honestly. "If there's nothing else, I'd-"
Again, she was interrupted, this time by a low chuckle. "Oh, but there is something else," the Joker taunted. "I've got one more stop for you, then you can run on home, promise." Leila frowned into the phone, wondering if his 'promises' had ever been trusted by anyone, ever. Struggling not to sigh at the thought of traveling all the way across town for a second time that night, she pushed her car into drive and spoke.
"Where?" she asked simply.
"My house," he said, his voice suddenly losing all hint of clowniness and instead taking up a note of professionalism. Leila felt her stomach go plummeting down into her ankles. She had been afraid that he might ask her to see him that night and had to think, by wanting more information, she had not necessarily meant from him. "West and 21st, the Narrows, Riverside Auto Shop. Be here in ten minutes and bring your kit inside." Click.
If Leila had not known to look for it, 'Riverside Auto Shop' might as well have been invisible to the naked eye. Tucked back into a narrow lane off of a side street, the business looked as though it had been shut down, dormant for years with blackened, grimy windows and two large, rusty garage doors. Leila, of course knew that this was not the case. It was currently housing the city's most notorious criminal, the same terrorist she had encountered only a few weeks ago, the same man she had sworn was the most evil being on the planet...her new boss. A heavy sigh escaped her as she climbed out of the car. Again, her mind screamed the question 'What am I doing here?!', but again, she ignored it, walking back to her trunk to pop it open and reach inside for her new kit. It was slightly heavier than the one she had for work and the canvas bag gave a quiet jingle as she lifted it out, the sound of tiny glass bottles clanking together inside.
With her trunk closed and the car locked, Leila turned toward the building, tilting her head back to look upward at the building, and instantly, her eyes found what she had been looking for- security cameras. She was not surprised by this, but could not help but feel slightly impressed by the measures the Joker had taken to ensure the privacy and security of his hideout. The main entrance to the auto body shop stood to the left of the two large, garage doors in the form of a rusty, painted and chipped metal door. She walked toward it, glancing up and down the lane for any sign of other cars or people. It was empty.
Within a few feet of the door, Leila nearly screamed and hit the ground as a bright floodlight suddenly came on overhead, her motion activating it to shine down on her. She figured this was to illuminate her face so the cameras above could capture an image of the person standing on the stoop. Sighing in slight relief, she reached out to knock on the door, giving three gentle raps against the metal before taking a half-step backward and glancing down at her feet. Her eyes caught sight of a dirty doormat and for the first time all day, her face broke a smile; 'Bless this home'. She allowed herself a heavy roll of her eyes and had just raised her gaze back to the door when it opened, revealing not the Joker, but yet another young man. He glared at her from between two cheekbone length curtains of greasy, straight hair. Leila wasn't sure what to say so she resorted to her favorite standby of looking awkward and stammering stupidly.
"I um...was told to-"
"You Hawkin?" the young man grunted in a very neanderthal sort of way. Leila resisted the insane urge to laugh and instead nodded. Without another word, he took a step back, into a dimly lit hallway, holding open the door for her to walk through, which she did, glancing to either side of her at the dingy and chipped, painted walls.
It was immediately obvious why the Joker always smelled of gasoline. The air within the abandoned auto body shop reeked of it, as though a massive quantity of the chemical had been spilled somewhere and left to ferment. The stench of it was even more overwhelming in person than it was on his clothing and for a few moments, Leila felt somewhat lightheaded from it. Blinking hard, she followed her guide down the hallway and out into the largest portion of the building, where they paused.
"Wait here," the man instructed before turning on his heel and marching over toward a very unstable-looking set of metal stairs to the left of the massive room. Leila watched him go but did not allow her eyes to linger on his retreating form; the rest of the facility was attracting her attention.
It seemed over the time that he had been staying there, the Joker had attempted to make this uninhabited business a bit more like a house, but not to great effect. Like the doormat outside, other halfhearted touches of normalcy had been scattered here and there throughout the garage, such as an upturned milk crate for small table, a punctured and oozing beanbag chair and a moldy couch across from a very old television. The old hydraulic lifts had remained behind and were raised to the ceiling, barren of any car but looking more like two greasy metal columns. Leila glanced up at these but gave a start, turning her gaze to where a loud shout of laughter had just emanated from another doorway across the room from her. The laugh was unfamiliar and most certainly was not the Joker's so she watched the threshold, slightly intrigued by who else had been invited to visit that night.
The frosted glass window in the door revealed the vague shape of a human being before it was thrown open and in marched two men, chuckling between themselves as they swigged from open beer bottles. Hoping to blend in with the wall, Leila took a step back as the men walked into the room, though for all the notice they took of her, she might as well have been transparent. She was not complaining; these two men did not seem like the type with which she would like to have much interaction. As one finished his beer with a loud belch and tossed the bottle aside to start a second or possibly sixth, yet another door opened, this time upstairs. Suddenly Leila was covered in chills, the hair on the back of her neck rising. He was coming.
The Joker appeared on the landing, having just emerged from what looked like an old office, grinning from ear to ear and looking thrilled about something. Somehow he had managed to recover his purple ensemble and was wearing all of it, though the heavy purple coat and tie had been shed for the time being, leaving him in the purple pinstriped pants, blue patterned shirt and green vest. Leila looked away from him quickly, averting her eyes as he began to approach, hopping down the stairs with almost indecent enthusiasm.
"Welcome to my humble abode, doc," he greeted her loudly, jumping the bottom two steps and landing squarely on his feet, his hands held out as though he had accomplished a great gymnastic feat. Leila looked over toward his direction, ashamed to feel her cheeks warming when she realized the two strange, drinking men were now staring avidly at her from the middle of the garage. "I'm thrilled you could make it," the Joker continued without so much as a glance toward any of the other people present. His grin expanded when he must have noticed her jaw give a tick of anxiousness. "We need to have a little...interview, so if you'd be so kind as to join me-" Even from across the room, Leila flinched when his hand swung to the side, pointing up the stairs behind him, a shrill whistle escaped from between his teeth, directing her like he would a dog. And exactly like a dog, she obeyed him without hesitation, walking over to begin moving up the stairs ahead of him, carefully dodging his extended arm as she passed.
After side-stepping at the top of the stairs and allowing him ahead of her, Leila watched as the Joker pushed open the door to the old office, that horrible grin still evident on his face. She swallowed hard, glancing to her left as she moved into the small room, where an old desk stood in front of the windows, though she could not yet see what was on it. The room was almost pitch dark, due to the large sheet of black paper stretched across the glass, blocking out any light from the remainder of the building. Leila jumped a moment later when the door closed with a sharp snap behind her. She was suddenly, unexpectedly in a dark room with the Joker; exactly the last place she ever wanted to be. To her relief, another noise reached her ears, this time in the form of a soft click as the Joker switched on a bright desk lamp, illuminating the surface of the desk and the paper detritus that littered it. Leila's eyes had just noticed an old but seemingly functional computer at the far corner of the table when the Joker's bouncy voice filled the room.
"Have a seat," he instructed, motioning lazily with one hand while he turned to lean against the desk. She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at the nearly empty space, her stomach sinking miserably when she noticed what appeared to be the Joker's bed.
It was nothing more than a single, twin mattress on the dirty floor, no sheets nor pillows, but merely a thin blanket crumpled and tossed aside as though it was barely used. Leila really did not want to sit there as it looked about the most uncomfortable, dirty thing she had ever seen. Luckily, it seemed that he did not intend her to as he pushed the rickety, rolling desk chair toward her. She accepted this gladly and sat down, placing the kit of medical equipment between her feet on the floor but did not remove her hands from the straps; if he was about to launch himself at her to wrap his fingers around her throat, she needed something, anything to try and defend herself. Perhaps there was a pair of scissors or needle in there...The Joker, however, did not seem to be preparing himself for an attack as he merely leaned back, bracing his movement with his makeup-stained hands behind him on the desk's surface.
"So..." he began, squinting his black-ringed eyes until they were mere slivers in his evil face. "Lay-luh Hawkin...Laayyyy-luh..." He repeated her name in a contemplative sort of tone, enunciating it slowly, playing with it, clearly remembering the goosebumps that had risen all over her bare arms the first time he said it back in the ambulance a few weeks prior. She struggled not to allow a hint of discomfort onto her face and remained perfectly still, staring up at him in silence, waiting for him to go on. He did, changing tact in an instant and turning abruptly to pull a piece of paper toward him from the scattered mess on the desk. "Been at the..." he paused to wiggle his fingers, searching for the word he needed. "-paramedic gig a while?"
Leila swallowed, shaking her head, unable to help but feel like she had just entered a real job interview. "About a year," she answered, her voice more timid than she would have liked it to sound. She cleared her throat, attempting to force more strength into it before speaking again. Across from her, the Joker's eyebrows raised, stretching the wrinkled black rings around his eyes as he scanned the piece of paper in front of him. Leila blinked; had he somehow gotten his hands on her original resume to the Gotham Fire Department? Her gaze dropped to the back of the piece of paper, attempting to read through it.
"What did you do before you decided to become an underpaid heroine?" he asked a few moments later, dropping the piece of paper back onto the desk and leaning forward slightly, anticipating her answer. Feeling more comfortable with the surprisingly familiar and somewhat routine question, Leila answered immediately.
"I graduated college and started medical school but-"
"Buuuuut..." The Joker interrupted her, cocking his head to the side with a nasty, cheeky grin on his mutilated face. Leila felt a flare of anger lick at her insides; she hated talking about that and knew he could sense it. She chose to be vague, since alas, this was not a real job interview by any means.
"-but I didn't finish." she concluded, intentionally allowing a tone of waspishness to enter her voice. Delightedly, it seemed, the Joker leaned back, once again raising his eyebrows as he glanced down at the paper beside him.
"Hm, touchy," he growled, his ventriloquist-style voice once again dropping down into that demonic octave. A split-second later, it shot right back up into the annoyingly clowny, nasally decibel. "SO! You can have the job, but first we gotta establish a few ground rules," He held up a finger to indicate the first. "Rule number one: I am the boss, the Alpha and the Omega, your beginning and your end. What I say, goes. Got it?" Leila nodded, struggling to ignore the sick feeling she got at the words 'your end'.
"Rule number two: You are to keep that cell phone with you at all times. In the bathroom, at your other job, I mean everywhe-"
"Wait, my other job?" Leila couldn't stop herself from cutting in; this was the first ray of hope she had encountered all day. "I can keep my job with the fire department?"
"Well, duh," Joker answered, rolling his eyes heavily. "If you up and quit your job there, the fuzz might get suspicious and we can't have that now can we?" Leila shook her head, fighting hard not to sigh in relief. Everything seemed a little brighter all of a sudden. The Joker was going on. "The only person who will ever call that phone is me. If you get a call on it from someone else, that means I'm dead and you're fired. And if you happen to miss or ignore a call from me? You're fired and dead, capiche?"
Leila nodded but was noticing one big, gaping flaw in this elaborate plan of the Joker's. What was she supposed to do if he called her while she was in the middle of an urgent call at her 'normal' job? Was she just supposed to abandon Matt and Jay to come to the Joker's rescue? She really could not see that happening without being fired immediately but was currently feeling too relieved to mention it. She was finally working past that ball of anxiety and did not feel like it would be wise for her to bring this up, potentially angering or annoying the man who was showing such 'mercy' by not throttling her to death right then and there. He did not seem like the type to be tested. She would ask about it later.
"Now," The Joker was speaking again, rising from his place against the desk to turn and walk toward the door. "Just to be double sure you're up for the job, we need to have a little technical interview, right?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder to where Leila was still sitting, her eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. She shrugged.
"You've already seen me at work," she replied, mildly surprised to find herself speaking to him so casually so early on, remembering back to a few weeks prior when she had to practically force herself to talk to him. "I can't have gotten any worse at what I do since then."
At the door, the Joker let out a low growl of a laugh, causing the hairs on her arms to tingle, but she fought past it, unwilling to let him take the warm calmness she was beginning to feel. He pointed one loose finger at her, arching his eyebrow as he looked back at her over his shoulder. "You may not have gotten worse, but you certainly could have gotten better, miss smarty-pants. Let's go find out."
Withholding a groan, Leila stood up to follow him out of the room, hoisting that heavy bag of equipment along with her and wondering what else he could possibly have in store for her. But as she passed the desk with Joker already at the top of the stairs outside the room, she could not curb her curiosity and simply had to find out what he had been reading about her from that piece of paper. Pausing ever so quickly, she leaned to the side to glance at the paper where he had left it on the desk, but only to frown; it was completely blank.
Downstairs, the two guys from a few minutes earlier were still working their way steadily through the six-pack of beer they had brought in, but looked up at the sound of the Joker clapping his hands to get their attention.
"Fellas, this is Doc Hawkin," he announced with a bit more volume than Leila would have liked. Vaguely, she wondered if he was calling her 'doc' because he knew she was not a full doctor and realized that it annoyed her to talk about not completing medical school. Probably, she thought sourly, fighting off another hefty eye-roll. "She's interviewing for a very important position on my team and I could use a little help. So..." Joker held out one hand wiggling one finger between the two strange men, as though trying to decide which one to pick. "You, come on over here."
The heavier-set of the two men climbed off of the couch, dropping his nearly empty beer bottle to the grimy ground before letting out another poorly suppressed belch. The back of his dirty hand reached up to slide sloppily across the corner of his mouth as he approached, causing Leila's stomach to turn. Why did everyone around the Joker have to be so gross? Was his poor hygiene contagious? There was definitely a hot shower in her very near future; just being in the same room as these men was making her feel itchy and dirty.
"Wh'sup, boss?" the man slurred as he closed in on the Joker and Leila, his eyes somewhat dilated and glossy, giving a little wobble as he came to a halt within only a foot or two of the tall man in purple slacks standing next to her. The Joker glanced down, clearly sizing this goon up, though this action seemed to go unnoticed by the drunk. Leila could feel that sense of foreboding creeping up yet again. Red, scarred lips smacked quietly as Joker frowned slightly at the man's face.
"How much have you had to drink, friend?" he asked, clicking his tongue against the inside of his yellowing teeth. Leila nearly flinched from the sound. Why was she suddenly on edge again? Where had that sense of calmness gone? The man let out a stupid laugh, teetering to the side a bit.
"Kinda lot," he answered lazily. The Joker's hands met together in front of him, his eyebrows raising.
"Ah, that's good," he stated, reaching out to clap the man on his fat shoulder, but did not remove his hand. The drunk's bleary eyes shifted to the side, to where he was being gripped, the smile fading slowly from his face. Leila was sure he could feel the uneasiness she was experiencing. As if to play off the moment of fear, the man chuckled.
"Why's that good?" he asked.
"Because you'll bleed faster," the Joker replied, and several things happened all at the same time.
A glimmering knife had suddenly appeared in the Joker's hand, before it was thrust to the hilt into the man's shoulder, forced in deeply by the opposite hand that was still rested there. Leila jumped with a loud squeal, dropping the bag of equipment to cover her mouth, while the drunken man let out a howl of pain, falling to his knees as the knife was pulled unceremoniously from his skin.
"Clean and dress his wound before time runs out," the Joker was instructing loudly over the man's choking sobs of pain, but his words had not been necessary. Leila was already rushing toward the man, leaning down to hastily dig through the bag for a pair of gloves, which she found sitting at the very top as though someone had planned for this situation in particular. Applying gloves was second nature for her by then so with her hands coated in the familiar blue latex in a matter of milliseconds, she moved toward the man, reaching out to press the heel of her palm flatly against the gushing wound. Somewhere behind her, she heard a tiny beep, like that of a watch or timer but she ignored this, focusing all of her attention on her newest and unexpected patient. She spoke to him calmly and quietly.
"I know it hurts but try to stay still," she told him, ignoring the hot beer breath the man had just blown across her face. "Take deep, even breaths."
Reaching behind her while the bleeding drunk situated himself against the back of the couch, Leila dug blindly for a roll of cotton gauze, tape and a pair of scissors. Her hands stumbled upon a plastic bottle, so she grabbed it as well, praying it would be hydrogen peroxide. The man's shirt was first to be cut once she had located a pair of medical shears. Starting at his sleeve, she cut carefully but quickly up the cotton t-shirt until she reached the gushing stab wound, where she then began to tear at the material, splitting it across his chest and giving her ample space in which to work. The gouge in his shoulder was deep as the Joker had plunged almost the entire knife in, though from what Leila could see, he had not hit any major arteries. Blood was flowing in a thick river down his chest but was not spurting or bubbling, which Leila felt was purely based on luck; she highly doubted the Joker had struck with any sort of intentional accuracy.
As she pressed a thick wad of peroxide soaked gauze to the wound, Leila could feel a heavy presence behind her, could hear the soft tapping of shoes against concrete floors as the Joker circled the scene, humming something out of tune to himself as he watched. Leila hated him in that moment. How could he just stand there after doing this much damage to one person? How could he injure someone so severely purely to see how quickly she did her job? Could he not have just as easily nicked his own arm for that same purpose? Of course he couldn't...she thought bitterly, gritting her teeth as she pressed yet another stack of gauze to the wound. He wouldn't maim himself for something like this. He's too important in his own eyes.
Fortunately, the bleeding was starting to slow with the pressure she was applying, though Leila was beginning to notice that this man, being as drunk as he was, was growing pale in the face and somewhat lethargic. If he was not taken to the hospital before morning, he would likely exsanguinate and die. Desperately, she turned her head to look up over her shoulder at the Joker, who had ceased his pacing and was now standing directly behind her, staring down at her with a horrible, satisfied grin on his face. She shook her head.
"He has to go to a hospital," she implored him. "The wound track is too deep and-"
"Tick- tock, doc," he chimed, rocking his head to both sides as he held up a stopwatch and wiggled it back and forth. "Only thirty seconds...twenty-nine...twenty-eight..."
With a frustrated, livid growl, Leila turned back to the man, reaching out for the roll of medical tape, from which she unrolled a length and tore it off with her teeth, something she would never have done at her real job. After tossing the bloodied wad of gauze to the side, she replaced it with a new, thick stack, doubled over with cotton and a large, square bandage, all of which she taped securely over the wound and pressed flat with her hand. She then brought her gaze up to meet the drooped and bloodshot eyes of her patient.
"Keep your hand pressed tightly over this, alright?" she instructed in a voice barely above a whisper. "Try to get to a hospital as soon as you can. Get out of here and call an ambulance if you have to."
"Aaaaaaand times up!" Joker exclaimed behind her, his voice followed by the shrill beeping of the stopwatch, just as Leila leaned back. "Well, you managed to get bloody cotton all over my sparkling floors so points off for that..." he was murmuring, kicking aside a wad of gauze. Leila stood up, unsurprised to find that her hands were shaking in both fury and fear over what had just happened, though she remained perfectly still as the Joker turned to her and smirked. "But I guess you did finish in time so...you can have the job!" Both of his arms flew into the air in a celebration that he obviously thought Leila would want to join. When she remained perfectly stationary, merely pointing down at the man against the couch, his animated grin fell quickly into a frown.
"Can you please let him go to a hospital? He's going to die if he doesn't-"
"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever," he answered distractedly, waving one hand while the other reached into his filthy vest, only to reappear a moment later holding a small handgun. Leila took a hurried step back but the Joker was rolling his eyes. "Oops, wrong pocket," he mumbled, transferring the gun to the pocket of his pants while he continued to grope in the pockets of his vest. Her heart was pounding relentlessly; he wasn't going to shoot her? A few seconds later, he pulled out another, larger stack of one-hundred dollar bills and to her surprise, handed it right to her, grinning ear to ear as she blinked at him in shock. "Your first payment. You got the first five earlier. This is ten, making it an even fifteen grand," he explained.
Leila hesitated. She knew there was a catch, something about this just did not seem right, though at the moment, she could not see what it was. She looked down at the money and took it slowly from his hand, feeling guilty and relieved at the same time, unsure which emotion took precedence. Just as the bills were losing contact with his fingers, however, Leila gave a start of panic when he tightened his grip, preventing her from taking it. His face was suddenly deathly serious, no trace of a grin or otherwise present, aside from his permanent Glasgow smile. His black eyes narrowed on her brown ones.
"Just remember, that by taking this money, there is no backing out. There are no letters of resignation, no 'two-week-notices', no quitting. You get out of this job by one of two things happening," He paused, leaning in slightly and allowing his gaze to bounce back and forth between her eyes. "Either I die, or you die. Those are the only two retirement plans I offer."
The silence following his words was absolute. Even the stabbing victim on the floor against the couch was quiet as the magnitude of Leila's decision set in once again. It seemed impossible, but the Joker was truly giving her another chance to back out. He was warning her that to work for him meant death or life. He was giving her the opportunity to either risk a life of fear and suspicion yet financial stability or go back to her life of normalcy and yet financial poverty. Leila let her eyes drop from his gaze to the money between them and she took it. The Joker grinned and held out his hand.
"Welcome to the team, doc," he growled, wrapping his fingers around Leila's as she reached out to meet his handshake, gripping the same hand that had just driven a knife hilt-deep into an innocent man's shoulder. She pulled away from his grip quickly as though she had received an electric shock, reaching down to pick up the bag of equipment, into which she dropped her payment, before looking up at him.
"I sincerely hope I don't have to see you again soon," she admitted, causing Joker to let out a loud bark of a laugh.
"Well, aren't you a peach," he chuckled, nodding his head toward the door. "Now scram, I gotta get our friend here to the hospital. We'll be in touch."
Relieved that she was being dismissed but bewildered that the Joker was actually going to take his victim to the hospital, Leila hurried off toward the door, exhaling heavily as she went. Her night was finally over and had not ended as badly as she had been expecting it to. She was being allowed to go home, back to her regular life and regular job, but with a commitment and a large sum of money at her disposal. The urge to smile and let out a whoop of alleviation was unbearable but Leila held it in until she had let herself out of the door through which she had come, where her car was still waiting out in the alley. Only then did she finally smile, mentally running through the things she intended to buy the next day, all the groceries she could stock her pantry with.
Almost the second her fingers made contact with the handle of her car door, a loud gunshot split the night air, forcing a sharp squeak to escape her, sending the bag of equipment to the ground, her hands flying up to cover her head. Though as the seconds went by and no other shots rang out, Leila began to realize that the bullet had not been intended for her. It had come from inside the auto repair shop; an execution. Sick to her stomach and no longer happy in the slightest, Leila leaned forward against her car, her heart pounding relentlessly against her ribcage, taking deep, steadying breaths to try and calm herself. Turning back toward the building, she stared at it, wide-eyed, trembling, feeling the earliest vestiges of hot tears beginning to well up along her lower lashes. What had she gotten herself into?
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A/N: Another long wait! SO SORRY! Again, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as it was a true blast to write, even if it did take me a while (new job and all that). Please leave some reviews if you feel so inclined and stay tuned for the next chapter, coming out sooner this time I PROMISE! Also, feel free to add me on facebook for tons of pictures of the characters (Leila, Matt, Jay and of course, Mister Joker), updates and songs that go with each of the chapters! I also have a closed facebook group for lovers of the Joker called The Man With The Glasgow Smile! Feel free to add me as a homie and I can add you to the group! We'd love to have you! Thanks for reading! -QoM
