{A/N: Sorry it's been a while, but I've been swamped with homework and have had zero time to do anything else other than sleep. So this one is hopefully going to make up for that. Don't think of it as an entering of a new character, but the extreme pissing off of a old one. The next few should be pretty action-ish...depending on how I write it out. I don't know yet, I just keep the basic guidelines in my head.}
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7: Trap door
Desiree crouched where she was for a long time. The Joker sat on the couch, where he was at the beginning of the whole incident, watching her. She was huddled upon herself as if her own body was a tiny fortress. He was reminded of children; when they had nightmares they got under the covers like no force in the world could penetrate that shield. Oh, how wrong they were.
"Des, now that we've gotten today's uh-discipline lesson out of the way, come here."
The girl looked up at him with the most hateful expression he'd seen in a while. It made him warm inside. She lifted to her knees and got up slowly due to the aches in her body and her mind's unwillingness to move toward something that was clearly dangerous. She came to his side though and eased onto the couch.
The Joker wanted to laugh, really he did, but now was the time to drill into her mind a little more. "So…tell me about your family." He crossed his ankle over his knee and put one curled fist under his chin, feinting that he had a serious interest in the matter. Really, he didn't, but it would give him more leverage against her. More to…use against her.
Desiree put on her best poker face. She thought that if perhaps she could convince The Joker that she had no family that her dad couldn't be put into danger. "I don't have any family."
The Joker laughed. He laughed because she was just so stupid. Did she really think him so dense? He made a tut-tut sound. "Oh, you little liar."
"I am not lying," Desiree snapped through gritted teeth.
"Yes, you are. Right at the beginning of our little uh-spat, I suppose you'd call it, you only came over to me when I asked how your family was. Now, do you think you would have done that if you didn't have a family? So, who are you protecting, hmm?"
Desiree kept her mouth shut. He could stab her a hundred times or remove each of her teeth with a pair of pliers and she would never let The Joker know about her dad. The Joker saw it all over her face too; a defiant acceptance that wasn't easy to break. She would take the punishment and never give up whoever it was in her family that she didn't want him to get to. Luckily enough, these days you could find just about anything you really wanted to with computers and good old fashioned of violence.
"All right," he began, ready to let this go for now. He knew this battle was hers, but it was his war. "I have things to do tonight. You are going to stay here and be good again."
"Please, no more drugs!" Desiree begged.
The Joker snickered at her large eyes, all full or fear and pleading. He loved that in a woman. "Relax. I'm just going to have some of the men stay behind to keep and eye on you instead."
Desiree choked. The men? The Joker's insane lackeys? Wonderful. She said nothing though as he got up and left, taking the paper on the table with him on the way out. She heard a lock tumble on the deadbolt and knew she was trapped for another night.
Outside, The Joker's men stood at attention. He surveyed them wearily. The last one he stepped closer to. "You. I want you to find me some information about my new friend's family. Her name is Desiree…something. Figure it out, find her family, bring me the information." He left them, stalking down the hall and to the stairs. He was off to have some more fun.
Desiree stared morosely at the door. There was nothing to do but wait…wait for him to come back. He was so detestable and horrible that she didn't even want to think his name. Well, his 'stage name'. What his real name was, she was sure that anyone who had never known it was long dead. The Joker didn't seem like a guy who left loose ends. Any link to The Joker's past would be a key to his undoing no doubt, so surely The Joker knew that.
Desiree's shoulder burned with pain. Just what had he done back there? She was a little afraid to look. She could still feel her warm blood dripping down her back steadily. She reached around and touched her fingers to that line of her own life-sustaining fluid. When she pulled her fingers back the tips were covered with red liquid tainted with black ink. Her frown felt so pronounced, even to her, that she corrected it. Her face pulled up to neutral and she stalked to the bathroom. She grabbed her discarded work shirt, resigning to put it back on now that the other was ruined. It was very awkward trying to see her back in the mirror. If there were two it would be easier, but no such luck. She had to crane her neck to see, which was hard. She saw it though, and her stomach lurched. She threw herself to the floor next to the toilet and threw up into the porcelain bowl. She kept vomiting until there was nothing left, not that there was much since she hadn't eaten since yesterday, and she was dry heaving. When she calmed down she wiped the tears from her eyes. She hated throwing up, but she couldn't help it. The fact that he had carved into her and that she would always have this stark and sickening reminder of her time with him would haunt her. She paused…if she in fact lived through this. Would she get out of this more or less intact?
She heard the lock to the door tumble and someone enter. Quickly, she put on her shirt to cover up. She got to her feet, using the sink as a support, and went out to see who it was. Had The Joker come back so soon? Did he forget something? She saw a large lurking figure that was definitely not The Joker. She moved into the room, keeping to the perimeter cautiously. He was carrying a white plastic bag.
"It's food," he told her, eyeing her in a very unsettling way. Desiree hugged herself, knowing that she didn't have a chance against a man so dangerous looking. She saw that he left the door open, but tried not to stare. A plan began to formulate in her head. If she could distract him and escape, then she could get out and get to her dad. From there she would get him out of the home and they could run to anywhere far away. The only thing she had to do was to get this guy out of the picture. She wracked her brain before an idea magically appeared in her head. It was simple, providing that the shopping bag contained what she needed. She sauntered over to the man, trying to look innocent, frightened, and starving all at the same time. Not too hard considering the circumstances.
"So, what's in there?" she asked, trying to will her eyes to look like a starving dog that begged for scraps on the street. He held the bag out to her, looking completely unmoved by her plight. What a heartless jerk. Nonetheless, she took the bag gingerly form him, making sure not to touch his hand. She opened it and peeked at its contents. Bingo. She pulled out the soup can and went to one of the cabinets. After a minute of searching she found a badly dented pot and put it on the stove. She pretended to turn the dial to ignite the burner of the gas stove. She did a fake "humph" when it apparently didn't light. She turned to the man who was lighting a cigarette and not paying much attention to her at all. She took the pot in one hand and put the other on her hip.
"Hey, do you think you could help me?" she asked, trying to sound helpless. He gave her a disgruntled look that said he would rather stick his lit Malboro in his eye than do anything for her, but he came over to take a look.
"What's wrong with it?" he barked.
"It won't light," she supplied. He bent lower, cigarette still between his lips. Desiree wished that it really wasn't working and that she left the gas on so that the gas leak would be ignited by the cherry on his smoke and that his face would be burnt to a very nice crisp. He mumbled to himself as he examined the burner some more. Desiree positioned herself behind him casually. She raised the pan over her head and then brought it down on top of his head with considerable force. The pan made a dull clang against his hard skull, ringing afterward for a few seconds. He swayed, a odd look on his face before collapsing to the side. Desiree didn't wait for backup to come to his rescue, she ran for the door. She catapulted down the hall and jumped the stairs two and three at a time. She was out the door in less than ten seconds from leaving the apartment. She heard shouting behind her, but she didn't dare look back. Last time she'd done that she'd nearly been road kill. She just kept going until her lungs burned and her muscles felt like there was acid eating away at them. She remembered stupidly that there was lactic acid in her veins from the lack of oxygenation. The things she thought of in a crisis…biology.
She heard tires squeal as they connected with the street. Desiree saw another car up ahead and ran to it. She wrenched the door open and pulled the man in the front seat out and onto the street. Luckily he wasn't wearing his seatbelt. She shoved herself behind the wheel and clicked the buckle into place. She punched the gas and the car jumped into motion. The Joker's henchmen missed her by inches, the bumpers barely avoiding collision. She ran a red light, then another, and a few stop signs. The Joker's men didn't give up pursuit. They were good at their jobs and knew the consequences if Desiree was not brought back…or if he figured out that she'd escaped in the first place. Desiree cut a corner and mounted the curb on accident. She almost hit a row of newspaper vendors, but she jerked her wheel to the left and was back on the road. The henchmen's car slammed into her and she spun out of control. She held onto the wheel with a death grip to rival any before it before the car rocked to a stop. She was shaking so hard that she was sure that it was the engine, but no, it was running quietly. The men in the car poured out, seemingly all at once. Their guns were leveled at her head; each and every one had a look on their face that would make most grown men have sudden bladder control issues. Desiree swallowed, finding her mouth suddenly bone-dry. When the closest got there he opened the door and jammed the gun into her temple.
"Get…the fuck…out of that car you crazy little bitch!" he snarled. Desiree reached slowly down and unbuckled herself. The man got impatient and grabbed her arm. He pulled her out so hard that she fell onto the cold asphalt. It had snowed outside since Desiree had been locked into her new prison. It was that first snow though, the one that never lasted long and turned into slush quickly. Desiree's pants got soaked with the cold water. Her hands got scraped when she hit the ground, and they stung. "Like I need any more injuries." she thought to herself. She breathed out, anticipating every possibility; getting shot, getting dragged back to The Joker's lair, and even a car coming put of nowhere and pulverizing them all to bits. What happened though, she never could have conceived in a million, trillion years.
"You're going to have to deal with me before you shoot her," a low voice warned. It was odd sounding, somewhere between a rasp and a growl, but not like it was his natural voice. The men started, shooting furtive glances at each other as none other that the caped-crusader himself advanced toward them. Desiree couldn't believe it, but he was better that divine intervention. Devine intervention didn't use violence to make its point. She couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corners of her mouth.
The man who was pointing a gun at her looked nervous. "Shoot him you fucking morons!" he commanded.
They all began firing, but Batman was suddenly done. He'd disappeared into the night like he was made of shadows. Desiree was awed. Then he appeared behind the farthest man and disarmed him and knocked him out before the others realized what was going on. Then he was gone again, leaving them all quaking in fear. The next he ghosted on and delivered a punch to his jaw; his head snapped to the side and he abruptly crumpled. Batman moved to the next without hiding again and elbowed him in the throat. The man who was pointing at Desiree was obviously not going to make it through this unscathed. He dropped his gun and took off, cowardly abandoning his subordinates.
Desiree tried to get up, finding it harder than she thought. A leather-clad hand lifted her gently at the elbow until she was on her feet. She looked up at the masked face, only his mouth unobstructed from view. Even his eyes were surrounded by black, unintentionally reminding her of The Joker. She shook off the uneasy feeling that made the hairs at the nape of her neck stand up.
"You're hurt," he stated in that voice that was all too harsh for him. Sure, he moved around in the night to dole out violence, but that was to criminals who deserved it. She had always been a supporter of Batman's efforts. She wasn't an anarchist by any means, but he'd done something that the police force hadn't been able to. He gave them hope.
Desiree wasn't sure what he was referring to. Reading her puzzled expression, he clarified.
"Your back is bleeding…profusely."
She nodded. "It's a long story."
"I've got a few extra seconds. Has it got something to do with these guys?" he asked.
Desiree shook her head. "Well, in a way. It was their boss who gave me all of this." She gestured to her face and body. "I've got bruises that would make you cringe."
His stoic face didn't falter even a fraction of an inch. "Who was it?"
"The Joker," she answered uneasily. Thinking of that murderous bastard put her on edge.
This stunned the man of shadows. His eyes widened and he grabbed her other elbow. "You've been with The Joker. I thought I knew you from somewhere. You're that girl who is missing from the Arkham Assylum escape. Desiree Cavanagh, right?"
Desiree nodded. For the third time in so many days, she heard police sirens calling through the night. They were coming here, no doubt toward the gunshots that had been fired off minutes ago. Batman looked torn.
"What is it?" Desiree pressed.
"You have to come with me…please. I need to know where The Joker is."
Desiree wasn't sure. She had just gotten her freedom and she was supposed to go with a strange man, crime-fighting aside, to god knows where? "I don't know. I'm pretty sure I should go to a hospital."
"Don't worry, I've got someone who can take care of that."
Desiree looked at the men still on the ground. Batman had foiled them all in less time then it had taken her to process what was going on. If she was going to be safe anywhere, it was with him. The Joker was going to be looking for her, why not be with the person who had brought him down the last time?
"Okay."
