The Task

So I'd have to rob a jewelry store. Whatever. Actually, it sounded like a lot of fun. I could take anything I wanted. Everything, if I wanted. But how was I going to do this? He left me at the piano, thinking, to go play pool with the guys. A few new recruits, since he "disposed" of some of the old ones. I tapped my fingers on the white wood, feeling its smooth, inviting texture. God, I wanted to play some more. But too much was on my mind, so there wouldn't be much emotion if I chose to play. Mechanical. Eew.

Suddenly, a text message came in on my cell phone. It read: By the way, I like gunpowder and dynamite. Just a hint. I closed my flip phone and laid it on the bench. Then it hit me. I changed into my black skinny jeans, long-sleeved, tight-fitting, crimson shirt, and black pumps. My chocolate, wavy hair lay loosely below my hips now. I said, "I'm going out for a bit," after packing a shoulder bag full of supplies from the weapons room and heading out the abandoned bookstore.

Nobody asked questions, though the Joker appeared to be curious as to what I was doing. I walked many blocks over to where my old job was and since it was so late, it was closed. I passed it and walked further on, until I came across Simple Pleasures Jewelry Store. Smiling to myself, I went into the alley behind the building and climbed the ladder up the wall to the roof. Over the next two hours, I stayed completely hidden and quiet, while I planted explosives throughout the entire building. The stupid place didn't even have an alarm!

I arrived at the "lair" half an hour later, exhausted. It was really late and I needed my rest for the big day tomorrow. The Joker was waiting up for me.

"So, where'd you go?" He asked in a way that imitated girls' gossiping.

"Oh, just around…"

"What did you do?"

"Walked…" I said casually, pushing his buttons. "Oh! And I looked at things too…"

He frowned and asked, "What's it gonna take to get the answer out of you?" I pressed my index finger to my chin, thinking. "Hm," I said, "It's a surprise. You can't do anything to get it out of me. In fact, I'd like to see you try." His frown immediately turned into a wide smile.

"Oh, is that a challenge?"

"Yup." I walked over to the couch and realized that I hadn't eaten anything that day. Except for a cookie.

He put his arm around me when we sat down and played with the intense waves in my hair. I blushed and looked away, trying to hide it. He always did stuff like this and this is how I'd always react. I wish he'd stop, and yet I don't.

"I saw that," he sang.

This time I glared at him and he said, "Feisty little thing."

"You're not getting it out of me."

He pulled out his favorite knife from his pocket and twirled it in his fingers, staring at its shine. Pressing the blade to my arm and moving it up to my neck, I shuttered. Again, not entirely out of fear.

He whispered into my ear, "Tell me where you were tonight."

He was obviously trying to get a rise out of me. As quick as I could, I grabbed both of his arms, pinning them above his head, and held him down on the couch. He writhed, trying to free himself, and I gripped tighter. He's really strong. Damn this is hard.

Smirking, I said, "Nothing. Out. Of. Me." Then I let him up and strode back to my bedroom, humming as I did so. I could've sworn I heard him say, "Damn!"