Chapter Ten

Anna let out a muffled, blood-curdling scream as she was held beneath the water, thrashing and kicking as hard as she possibly could. The Joker would admit it: he was having trouble keeping her down. She sure was putting up one hell of fight, but unfortunately for her, this did nothing but propel his perverted excitement. His hands tightened around her head and he smiled as he dug his fingernails into her scalp. He licked his lips and quickly straddled her back, his feet planted firmly on either side of her as he forced her head deeper underwater. Anna's hands were scraping desperately against the outside tiles of the tub, her nails clawing against the tiles, trying frantically to give herself some leverage so she could push herself away from it. The task however, proved impossible with the Joker's strong, lean legs on either side of her, leaving her lower half completely immobile.

It only took a few more seconds of her thrashing and screaming for him to be annoyed with her antics. Without even a word, he suddenly placed his free hand in the space between her legs. He could hear Anna's muffled gasp in the water as he roughly cupped her crotch. Then, without warning, he swiftly lifted her up and over the side of the tub, dumping her whole body into it. Her head came up out of the water momentarily and she let out the most horrible, ear-shattering scream he had ever heard. He fiercely struggled with her as she literally fought for her life. One hand in her hair and the other hand now on her chest, the Joker's muscles were suddenly surcharged with a fierce vitality, his muscles snapping into play roughly, like steel springs suddenly brought to life. He violently pushed Anna back down into the water, holding her there once again with renewed energy.

Rather than hold her breath like she should have done, she instead let out yet another blood-curdling scream, boiling hot water and a coppery, metal taste instantly flooding her mouth until it was all she could taste and smell. Her raw, opened and bleeding cuts submersed in the scalding hot water was nearly too much to bear. Her whole body stung like the nothing she had ever felt before, and it felt like she was drowning in hot lava rather than just bath water. Her skin was on fire, and Anna would have sworn that it was slowly melting off her body, the water so hot it was literally peeling away her flesh.

"Stop!" she screamed, though her cries were muffled, as if she had just yelled into a pillow. Her eyes, completely bloodshot, were wide open beneath the water as she continued to twist and thrash her body, splashing water everywhere.

The Joker fought her with every ounce of strength he had. He smiled horribly at her when her pleading eyes would meet his from beneath the water. Above her screams of anguish, he spoke, his voice sardonic and nasally. "Oh, I'm sorry, what's that you're saying? The water's too cold, is it? Well then, in that case . . . let's ah, turn it up a notch."

And he did just that, kicking the nozzle all the way to the left to make the water even hotter. He didn't even care that it was spilling out of the sides anymore, he just wanted to see her suffer. His hands were burning, but he didn't care. It felt good.

It was only a few more torturous seconds later when Anna felt her lungs start to constrict. She desperately needed air. It wasn't helping matters that the Joker's hand on her chest was practically crushing her ribcage, nor did it help that she was already having trouble breathing as it was. Her throat was sore and practically bleeding from all the screaming she was doing.

As the seconds passed and lack of oxygen was starting to make her vision blurry, it was getting harder and harder to fight back. She couldn't even think straight anymore. Everything burned. Her scalp, her skin, her eyeballs. It all burned like fire, and she couldn't do anything to make it stop.

The world was blurry and distorted around her. As she was looked up through the bathwater from the bottom of the tub, all she could see were brilliant flashes of purple and white, and then red. Lots and lots of red.

In the back of her mind, she vaguely assumed that it was the Joker's red-painted mouth that she was seeing. But as her body lurched again and her eyes began to flutter closed, she realized in horror that the red she was seeing was actually the water.

The Joker was drowning her in her own blood.

He had literally created a bloodbath to drown her in.

She couldn't possibly think of a more horrible way to die.

With her thoughts twisted and scattered, her body suddenly gave a strange lurch.

Her seconds were almost up, the Joker noted, and he dug fingers harder into her scalp as he held down her more forcefully. He had fully intended on drowning her, he really did, right then and there. He was so close, too. So, so close. He knew that she had only a few more seconds of breath left . . . but for whatever reason, he didn't do it.

He let up on her without a word. Removing his hand from her chest (he had probably crushed a rib or two,) and untangling his hand from her hair, he watched Anna with black, narrowed eyes as she shot up out of the tub, gasping desperately for air and half unconscious from lack of oxygen. She looked like she was going to pass out.

The Joker hadn't realized how labored his own breathing had become until the room had silenced enough for him to hear it. He was panting raggedly, his breath mixing with Anna's own as she coughed and sputtered. Water trickled down the side of the tub silently, and the Joker tore his eyes away from Anna long enough to watch it for a moment.

He towered over the bathtub, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He didn't even understand why he was so angry. It his rage had been partly for Taylor at first—his anger directed towards Anna for the all things she had done to someone so unbelievably innocent disgusted even him—but after a while, the cause seemed lost and now it was just the adrenaline that was surging through his veins that had spurred him on.

And the adrenaline was still there, too.

Pushing his hair back from his face with one hand, the Joker suddenly bent over the side of the tub and slipped his hands underneath Anna, lifting her soaking wet body up and out of the water.

A weak, strangled moan of pain escaped from her lips, and the noise was reminiscent to something a dying animal would make in its final moments of despair.

The Joker's suit was already completely soaked as he held her dripping wet body in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Her skin was hot to the touch and flushed scarlet. Her cuts were still bleeding, though not as much as they had been before. He made sure that he gingerly laid her on the floor next to the bed—he didn't want her to pass out on him on just yet.

While Anna made pitiful, open-mouthed moans of agony and her body twisted weakly back and forth on the floor, the Joker merrily went about making the bed. He quickly tucked in the satin sheets and pulled the covers up to the headboard so everything looked nice and neat. As a finishing touch he even fluffed the pillows and placed them up against the headboard as well. When everything was to his liking, he turned back around and with a small grunt, lifted Anna up off the floor and propped her up into a sitting position against the headboard.

Her eyes were half-closed and her whole body was trembling as the Joker tried to adjust her so she would sit up straight. "Hel—help me, please . . . please," Anna wheezed, sounding out of breath as if she had just been running a marathon. "God, it hurts so much . . . please make—make it stop."

Everything was blurry to her as she was barely hung on to that last thread of consciousness. As her eyelids began to close, the Joker leisurely climbed up onto the bed and sat on his haunches in front of her. She let out a startled gasp and was pulled back to reality when she felt the Joker's hands on her shoulders, pushing down the straps of her spaghetti strap tank top. "No . . . no," she cried through shuddering tears.

The Joker only smirked, pushing her straps off her shoulders and then slowly pulling down her top, exposing everything. Her skin was still raw and burning hot to the touch as he pulled the top down past her stomach and over her legs until it was completely off. She wasn't wearing a bra.

Next, he quickly began work on her underwear. He didn't waste any time in putting on a theatrical show for her since she was half conscious anyway, and he quickly tore it down her legs instead.

Once she was fully unclothed, she was too weak to even attempt to cover herself. She sat slumped against the headboard, her eyes bloodshot with warm tears streaking down her face and blood oozing from her arms, legs, and stomach.

Removing himself from the bed, the Joker went over to small, black duffle bag he had noticed earlier in the corner and began to rifle through it.

Yup, this was definitely Anna's bag, he decided as he pulled out a black and very racy lingerie dress. The dress was short and there was barely enough material to cover the intimates, but that was probably the point, he assumed. The bust of the dress was trimmed in small black feathers and silk lace while the sides and stomach were made of a thin, gossamer material so that when it was on the skin underneath was visible. This'll have to do, the Joker giggled to himself.

Fully pulling it out of the bag, he gently fingered the material as he made his way back to the bed, crawling back on top of it as he crouched in front of Anna once again.

The dress was so tiny that the Joker doubted he'd be able to pull it up past her thighs, so he conceded with pulling it down over her head and slipping her arms through the sleeves. Once he had her fully dressed in her lingerie, he scooted back on the mattress to admire his work.

The dress fit her well, but something . . . something was missing.

Ohhhh, of course. How could he have forgotten?

Smiling to himself, he made sure he had Anna's attention by roughly tapping her cheeks a few times, convincing her to open her eyes, before he slowly pulled out his favorite knife—his Paragon ATKO10—the one that resembled a potato peeler.

"You know something, sweetheart? I never ah, never got to finish my story," he said with a frown. "You wanna hear the rest of it?" He leaned in closer to her as he spoke, his voice dropping to a low octave as he moved to straddle her thighs.

Anna weakly nodded her head back and forth, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks once more. "Please don't," she whispered, her voice painfully strained. She was obviously overcome with too much pain to even move let alone think straight.

Flipping his knife in his hands a couple of times, he regarded her silently before suddenly moving in closer to her, his face uncomfortably near to hers. He purposely pressed the side of his face against her cheek so she could feel the uneven flesh of his scars as he began to whisper into the hollow of her ear. "After her daddy splits my face open," he began, picking up right where he left off. He briefly closed his eyes as he leaned into her, licking his lips and relaxing his body into hers. "I sca-ream." The Joker pulled back to look into her eyes and nodded his head fervently, affirming his statement. "I scream so loud that her old man tells me to 'shut the hell up' because he doesn't want to 'wake up the neighbors.'" He laughed then, a short, breathy sound that made Anna cringe. "He's joking of course though, smiling at me and laughing like he's just told the funniest joke in the world. But you know what? . . . I didn't think it was funny at all," the Joker growled, his knife already shaking in his hands, anticipation coursing through him. "You wanna know what I did next, Anna?"

Anna vigorously shook her head no, a choked sob escaping her as she tried to twist her head away from him, but he only responded by grabbing it with both of his hands, his knife now residing near her ear. "But all this anticipation is killing me, isn't it for you too? Why don't I just cut the suspense, hm? I know you're just dying to get to the end of the story, aren't ya? He grinned wickedly. "Why don't I just show you the ending, yeah?" He shook his head eagerly up and down while Anna did the opposite.

"No, no!" she gasped, sobbing hard. "Stop, I'll do anything—anything!" She blindly moved her hands to his chest, grasping on the fabric . . . hoping to pull him into another distracting kiss.

The Joker was disgusted but didn't let it show. "It's too late to go back, sweetheart," he ground out fiercely, pushing her hands away. "You can't. Change. The past," he growled, positively livid. "But you know what's so great about that?" He eagerly licked his lips, slowly inserting the sharp blade in-between her lips. He began to stretch her right cheek at the corner and whispered to her. "You don't have to."

With those final words, he roughly tugged the knife at the corner of her mouth and jerked it sideways, effortlessly slicing into the skin of her cheek while Anna's body suddenly arched upwards and she let out a gurgled scream. He quickly mimicked his actions on the other side of her mouth and then watched as Anna fell back against the headboard, intoxicated with pain.

"It's funny, isn't it? Allllthis could've been avoided if you wouldn't have . . ." the Joker rolled his eyes to the ceiling and then back to her, speaking in a much darker tone once more, "gotten yourself all fucked up." He leaned in close to her and then spit in her face, watching as his saliva dribbled down her chin. She didn't even notice it.

With those last words, a thought suddenly occurred to him. He wondered how it would feel for her if he decided to cut out her . . . lady parts. With those out of the way, the Joker mused, she wouldn't have to worry about making a 'mistake' like Taylor again. While he mulled over the prospect, Anna suddenly made a strangled noise of anguish, and he looked back at her, frowning.

She looked absolutely pathetic. Her long, soaking wet hair was now a disheveled mess because he had been pulling on it so much, and her once pale skin was marred with long, jagged, and bloody lacerations. She looked horrible, and the Joker couldn't wait to find out how Durante would react to the scene when he got home.

Speaking of that though, he really needed to get out of the house. Tonight wasn't the right night to deal with Durante—not after this, anyway. No, he'd lay low for a few days, let today's events play out on the news and in the papers. After this, all of Gotham would know for sure that the Joker was back.

And that he was ready to come out and play.

Perhaps this was just the thing that would bring the Batman out of his strange 'disappearance'? After all, hide and seek was only so much fun for the first couple of minutes—several months, however, well, that was bordering on extreme.

As the Joker hopped off the bed, feeling much better about himself and his overall state of mind, he practically skipped over to the vanity to retrieve his heavy purple coat, putting it on over his soaking wet clothes and pocketing his knife. As an afterthought, he impulsively pocketed the green wad of cash on the dresser—it wasn't like it would be of any use to Anna now—not unless she miraculously survived and decided to use the money to fix her ruined face. Which would really be such a shame, the Joker thought, considering what a beautiful job he had done carving it up.

She looked positively radiant now.

Turning around and taking one last look at Anna, he couldn't help but grimace slightly at his own handiwork. He could only imagine the look on Durante's face when he saw her, dressed in her skimpiest lingerie and all bloody and battered and facially deformed and . . . dead.

As his gaze swept almost wistfully one last time over the expanse of the room, he suddenly faked a look of shock. "Oh, and I almost forgot . . ." his voice was quiet and he doubted Anna even heard him. "Here's your tip." He dug around in his coat pocket until his found a one dollar bill, tossing it into her lap. "Don't ah, spend it all in one place."

With that, he shut off the lights and slammed the bedroom door as he exited, laughing hysterically all the way down the hall, stopping in the middle of the stairwell at one point and leaning his forehead against the wall, his bloodied hands grasping onto the banister to support himself as he laughed.

Sometimes he just cracked himself up.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, he was strictly business. Pulling out his non-traceable cell phone, he quickly dialed a number off the top of his head. It rang only once before the member on the other end picked. Ah, that's a good boy.

"Hello?"

The Joker didn't bother with formalities and launched straight to the point. "Call Skids and get over to Durante's house—now."

There was shuffling on the other line before the voice replied. "What'd you need us to do, Boss?"

"Just lie low outside of the house, keep an eye on Durante for a few days—"

"You mean stalk him?"

The Joker sighed irritably. "Do you . . . do you have a problem with that?"

The male stuttered. "N—no, no boss, not at all. When do you need us there?"

The Joker worked his mouth and then smacked his lips. "Uh, now."

"Right. We'll be there."

The Joker snapped the cell phone shut and, taking one last look around the house, made his way to the front door and stepped outside. The cold air bit him like a snake, and it didn't help that his clothes were practically soaking wet, either. He glanced around to make sure no neighbors were watching him or had called the police—Anna had been screaming pretty loud.

He made his way back to the car and after wiping some fresh remnants of snow from the windshield, quickly got inside and started it.

He decided that once he got back to the motel that his best option would be for him to lay low for a while. Once the news about Anna hit the news, all of Gotham would know of his return. However, he wasn't quite ready to make his grand entrance just yet. There was also still the matter of the 'black masked' figure that needed to be taken care of. Once the Joker got him out of the way, he could resume his normal chaotic ways again—that was, of course, assuming that Batman was ready to come out and play again. And if Batman wasn't, well then, that's where Taylor would come in.

It was almost two thirty in the morning when the Joker arrived back at the motel. The car door slammed behind him with a bang as he made his way towards the front entrance. The short, winter snow storm had seemingly passed over for now, and the sky was now a clear and dark navy blue color. White, crystal stars were scattered above him while the old, thick pine trees overhead swayed and creaked in the wind.

Once inside the warmth of the building, he sighed heavily and silently walked down the hallway, fully intent on taking a shower and ridding himself of the bloody copper sent that flooded his nostrils every time he caught a whiff of himself. He also really needed to try his clothes. His customized, selective-fire Glock 18 would have to be dissembled too, so it could dry properly.

As he noiselessly padded down the dimly lit, carpeted halls, he suddenly pictured Taylor still sleeping soundly on the bed, just as he had left her. She had been completely knocked out when he had left, so she was still probably sleeping deeply.

With her in mind, the Joker began to wonder what he would tell when she asked about her mother again. She may have been naive, but he couldn't keep lying to her about the situation like he'd been doing for the past couple of days. There was no way around it. Eventually, he'd have to tell her that her mother wasn't coming back.

Although, on the other hand, he didn't really have to tell her. It wasn't like he was under some obligation to do so. Hell, he could let her think what she wanted. She'd only be a big bundle of tears if he told her, anyway. No, the topic of her mother returning would be better left unsaid. Who knew what kind of depression she would spiral into if she found out that he had very personally murdered her own mother?

The Joker pulled his key card out of his pocket and slipped it through the slot in the door and then slowly pulled it open.

The smell of bleach and stale cigarettes instantly invaded his nostrils once again, and he frowned in annoyance. The bright overhead light was still on, just as he had left it, and he vaguely wondered how Taylor could have slept through such an annoying, bright glare.

As he stepped farther into the room, his wet jacket hanging heavily on his shoulders, he began to walk over to the bed to check on Taylor. He stopped short, however, when he suddenly noticed that she was wide awake and seated on a man's lap who was currently sitting on the edge of the bed.

The Joker loosened his jaw and cocked his head to the side, looking utterly unhinged and completely startling. With his suit soaked, his makeup smeared, and his dark, glittering eyes glaring daggers at the man who was looking up at him in shock, the man on the bed thought he looked absolutely crazy.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Joker asked, his voice strangely low, quiet even.

The man shifted uncomfortably, and Taylor, sensing that something was very, very wrong, began to slowly crawl out of his lap and towards the headboard.

The man slowly rose from the bed, standing tall to face the Joker.

The man was Jacob.