"It's odd... Something doesn't feel...right..."
The District Attorney looked out of the large window of his office, clear blue eyes scanning over the beautiful city of Gotham. Letting out a deep sigh, he ran a hand through his blonde hair in aggravation. Something was going on... Perhaps this was the calm before the storm.
"What doesn't, Sir?" One of the three men crowded around the desk asked curiously. These were the people working directly under him, save for Rachel, and were essential in the day-to-day activities his office was constantly embroiled in. Right now, he needed their help more than ever with all the devestation the Joker's mayhem has caused. Together, they've spent countless hours searching, interrogating criminals that could have possibly been related to the clown in any way. Looking over articles and reports, combing through everything very carefully. No stone would be left unturned...
"The Joker... The fact that he hasn't made any big moves in the last week is bothering me... It's out of the ordinary when you take the last month into consideration. Aside from the trail of bodies he's been leaving in plain sight, it's almost like that psycho is laughing at us. Playing a twisted game of cat-and-mouse... He hasn't blown up any buildings since destroying City Hall. To be honest, it's very worrying. The Joker isn't the kind of man to have a sudden change of heart. It's more likely that he wants us to let our guard down, before making the next move."
Harvey walked along the length of the large window, staring out at the skyscrapers surrounding his building. Since Rachel had become a target, he'd been on high-alert, trying to use every avenue to find the clown.
Just a week ago, the maniac had crashed the fundraiser that Bruce Wayne had thrown, blew up a vessel docked at the local shipyard, and set off multiple explosives in City Hall...all in one night. Everyone assumed the worst and predicted that his reign of terror would only escalate from that point, maybe even destroy the entirety of the city. However, the last week has been relatively quiet...
In the mornings, multiple bodies were being found-mutilated-with their faces painted and a Joker card pinned to an article of clothing. The victims were mostly police officers, but a few of them had been local thugs on the watch-list. The crimes were indeed heinous, but compared to how things were before, this was pretty tame for the clown.
The city was still in full chaos from fear. If anything, not knowing what would happen next was making people even more upset. At the drop of a hat, their worlds could be turned upside down. It was like walking through a field full of landmines, having no idea where they were located or when they'd be set off. To make matters worse, there were Joker copycats trying to cause trouble, feeling empowered by the clown's 'fight against the authority'. It was all too much...
The only thing Harvey could be grateful for was that Rachel was still safe for now. The Joker hadn't made good on his threat to kill her...yet. That was the most terrifying part, not being able to predict or understand the man. No one knew when or how he would strike next.
"Sir... Do you think someone could have taken the Joker out?... The entire city is after him, including the criminals. I have reports from a source that the mob had sent a few men out to investigate the clown. It's become apparent that even they can't control him, but no one has been able to find anything..." A short man with salt and pepper hair spoke, tossing down a file on the desk in exasperation.
'If only that were true...then the entire city could rest easy. The copycats would disperse if their role-model was killed. If the Clown Prince of Crime-as they call him-couldn't get away, what hope would they have?'
"Tch... Are you serious, David? Wake up!" The others turned towards the tall man sitting on the arm of a chair, shaking his head in disbelief at the naivety to even think, let alone voice such a foolish idea. "The mob and Batman haven't been able to stop him... That monster killed my little brother and everyday, more bodies are piling up. There's no doubt that he's still out there. Hiding somewhere, probably plotting something worse. If someone took him out, they would be boasting about it all over the city..."
Harvey turned towards the statuesque Korean, nodding in agreement. If someone had stopped the clown, it would be the talk of the town. A government official would be publicly awarded for their heroics and a criminal demand their street credit and money.
'Hyeon Choi...'
The man was a valuable asset to Gotham, working as an unofficial bridge between the District Attorney's office and the Gotham Police Department. He's been an exceptionally dedicated worker for years, no matter what branch he belonged to at the time. Harvey personally took him under his wing after seeing the man's potential. The amount of time and effort that was put into everything he touched was astounding and his pursuit for justice was like an obsession, to the point of almost becoming fanatical. It was for this reason that he could be trusted to do what was right, without having to worry about the mafia trying to bribe him... The way they've done to many of the politicians and officers in the city. Finding anyone who couldn't be tempted by money or power was close to impossible to find in Gotham anymore, making it all the more necessary to hold onto the ones who weren't.
During his first run for office, Harvey was astonished at the way he was able to gather information and strategize. Since then, he's kept him by his side as an irreplaceable member of the team. While the District Attorney was the face of Gotham that symbolized the "law and righteousness", than Hyeon was the one who worked tirelessly in the shadows, never seeking fame or glory. Hell, he barely wanted to be thanked...always saying it was his job.
Just recently, the man's only sibling, Hyeejin Choi, was found murdered by the Joker. Jin was very different from Hyeon...someone who offered out his "services" to businesses and mobsters alike, but he would feed his brother valuable information when they needed it. The reason for his death wasn't exactly clear...or why the clown was so vicious in the way he did it. Even for a sadist like the Joker, it was unusually cruel. That fact was really saying something.
The worst part of it all was that Hyeon had been on the phone with Jin when it happened. From investigating the scene and the older siblings account, they were talking on the phone and Jin had information he wanted to relay in case something happened. Men broke into his apartment and the younger Choi put his phone on the dresser. It seemed like his brother suspected that someone might attempt to attack or kill him. He'd purposefully left the call still connected, knowing Hyeon was listening. By doing that, on the chance that he didn't make it, there would be more evidence left behind that could help with the investigation. If Jin died, he must have hoped his last action would assist in bringing down his murderer with him.
'Very clever... To think of that with the prospect of death hanging over his head really shows what kind of person he was.'
Hyeon had been forced to listen as he recorded the audio to his own brother being tortured and killed by the Joker. It would have been impossible to save him in time, even if every officer had been dispatched.
Due to the distance between where the crime occurred and the placement of the phone, it had been difficult to make out what was being said between the victim and murderer. The only clear parts of the audio were gunshots, barely audible dialog, and screaming. Lots and lots of screaming...
Since then, the elder Choi brother had become like a man possessed... Listening to that horrific recording day after day, trying to find any piece of information or clues that his beloved sibling may have left behind.
It was difficult for Harvey to watch, but if any information could be found to finally put a stop to the Joker...it would be worth it. None of them would be able to rest until this nightmare was over...
There were only two days left until the press conference... The one Batman had requested to be held. Something had to be done about the clown before this happened, otherwise...the caped crusader would give in to the demands and reveal his true identity.
That couldn't happen...
Harvey wouldn't let it. Batman was a hero... Why should anyone give in to the demands of a psychopath who wouldn't keep his word anyway? The Joker wouldn't just suddenly stop the barbarity. He wanted to eliminate the biggest threat to his reign of terror and was using innocent lives as a tool to push them all into a corner. If anyone could stop the madman, it would be Batman...
They had to do something...
The door to the abandoned warehouse swung open, smacking the dingy wall behind it. Pieces of drywall fell to the floor where the handle hit, leaving dust and debris floating in the cold air and dropping over the cement below. Joker grinned, lowering his leg. Dirty dress shoes stepped over the mess as he strode in, not bothered in the least. His dark eyes narrowed in on the person who was patiently waiting for him to arrive.
Sitting on a chair at an old table against one off the walls, sat Harleen Quinzel. She twirled her blonde hair between her fingers, lost in her own thoughts until she saw the large figure stalking towards her. Blue eyes lit up at the sight of the man she'd been waiting to see again for so long. The last time they talked was a few days ago... It was over the phone and quick, not nearly long enough for her liking.
"Mista J! I missed you, puddin'!" The woman bolted up from the seat ecstatically, her heart set ablaze. How long has she waited just to be alone with him outside of Arkham-away from prying eyes.
"Yeah. Yeah... Did ya find out anything?" The Joker didn't want to be here if he didn't have to, but would do what was necessary. Something's been gnawing at him recently...and his instincts were usually right.
"Always straight to the point... Can't you ever relax and have some fun?"
Turning his head to scoff, Joker could already feel his patience wearing thin. What the hell was with this woman? She really didn't know anything about him. The blonde's idea of fun would be fucking in the warehouse and him allowing her to swoon all over him.
'No thanks... I'd rather blow myself up, than be subjected to such torture. There really are worse things than death...'
"C'mon, pumpkin... Ya know what my, ah, idea of fun is. Now what did you find out?" Cocking his head to the side, the clown's arms swayed as he watched the woman pout, trying to resist the urge to strangle her. Licking the scar on his bottom lip, he breathed out deeply, remembering the reason he came in the first place. Killing her now would be unproductive... Fun, but still unproductive.
"Aww... You have your makeup done and everything! I always wanted to see it in person..." The clown's eyes darkened with a sharp glare, debating if he would have to break something to get it out of her. The longer he stayed, the closer he would be tempted to giving into his baser instincts.
Seeing the expression on his face, the doctor sighed, realizing what kind of mood he was in. After months of being his active psychiatrist in Arkham, she had an idea of what his temperament was like and when to back off. The subtle signs, drastic shifts in personality... Those were all things someone needed to be painfully aware of when dealing with the Joker. Many orderlies and security guards had learned that the hard way, if they survived the ordeal. Her lips formed a hard line as she gently sat back onto the chair, slowly crossing her legs. "You're no fun... Anyway, I actually did find out quite a bit...but it will cost ya, Mista J..."
A sweet smile spread across her mouth while she said it, her blue eyes lighting up in a way that made him want to gouge them out. The muscle above his scar twitched in annoyance. This woman had balls saying that to him, she was becoming pig-headed. Did she think because she was still alive that there was some kind of leeway between them or that he might have a soft spot for her? It was laughable...literally. A good knee-slapper. His brow quirked up, not liking whatever this tart was thinking. Unless it was money, nothing good could from whatever price she had in mind.
"This better be worth the cost if you're asking to be paid for it." A gloved hand slid into the pocket of his coat, watching the doctor carefully.
"Just a little smooch, then I'll tell ya everything ya wanna know.. I have done a lot for ya, puddin'... You didn't even come to visit me in Arkham, after all this time... I was hurt!" She clicked her tongue, lifting the file off of the table and waving it around.
Joker ground his teeth, holding the handle of the blade in his pocket. If she put her lips anywhere near him, he'd personally cut them off...and he wouldn't use a sharp one either. There was plenty of knives throughout the different layers of clothing, probably more than a typical chef would own in a restaurant. He could pick and choose at his liking, having a large variety for any occasion or depending on the person. There were so many factors in choosing the right one, like how much they deserved to suffer. Right now, there was a nice dull one he had in mind...
Sensing that she was pushing her luck, Harleen giggled girlishly while keeping an eye on the hand in his pocket. Despite the carefree personality she was molding herself into, the woman wasn't a complete fool. Although she had found herself in love with the wild clown, she understood when to retreat. There was no value in dying by his hands now. Leaning back against the chair, her slim hands held the file to her chest tightly. This was the only thing bringing this enigma of a man to her after all this time, making her almost reluctant to hand it over. When would be the next time he stood in front of her like this? He was like a fleeting dream...everything she ever wanted one minute, completely gone the next. It was always a painful experience, but one she would accept happily.
"I'm-I'm just joking, Mista J... All I want is for you to come by to see me soon. That's all... I'm not an idiot. I know how you are... I really did go through a lot of trouble to get this for you, it wasn't easy."
"Deal. Now tell me." Joker grabbed another chair and swung it around, plopping himself down. Honestly, it would be easier to just give Harley money. He has more than enough and none of it meant anything to him anyway...just like her. Propping his head up against his arm, he stared at the doctor across the table expectantly.
"Okay. Okay... Let's see..." Opening the file, she sifted through the papers. "I know you wanted to find out more about that trial drug we talked about from the last time you were in Arkham... It's still in use, but rarely now.. Usually only for severe cases. I did find out something interesting, puddin'. The initial trial version was developed by Dr. Jonathan Crane-well, I guess Scarecrow now-and Stephen Wells. After he lost his job at Gotham General and ran, the other doctors saw other uses from the experiments he was conducting." Lifting her glasses from the bridge of her nose, her slim fingers lightly pinched it. The blonde's young features scrunched up in agitation at the mention of the rogue doctor.
"The doctors I spoke with told me a lot that's not on these papers. I explained to them that Dr. Crane is a patient of mine, and I'm trying to rehabilitate him. Heheh! They fell for it...hook, line and sinker! Everyone in this field in Gotham knows about what that moron did last year." The doctor spread her arms out, laughing to herself about the little lie she told. The old Harleen would have been appalled at the behavior and lack of professionalism she was currently exuding.
Seeing the frown deepen on the clowns face, she lowered her arms. It was apparent he didn't seem entertained or as impressed like she originally hoped.
"Anyway..." Awkwardly coughing into her hand, she quickly looked towards the papers, shuffling them around anxiously. "They said when he was completing his residency in the psychology department at Gotham General, he'd been using some of the patients as guinea pigs. Of course, this was before he started working at Arkham. A few years actually... Guess he wanted the hype to die down a little before starting up again. That weasel was probably spending his time researching and dabbling with those little concoctions..." Harleen frowned, thinking about all the trouble Dr. Crane had caused at Arkham... Even today, they were still feeling the aftermath of that man's madness. It would have been great, if only it didn't make them tighten up security so drastically. Doing anything there had become a pain and the head of the facility was constantly keeping watch over the staff for any signs of trouble. No one wanted a repeat of the embarrassment caused from last year's controversy.
"This drug... What happens to the, ah, patient if they take it? Obviously besides losing their memories. Side effects? Is there a way to reverse it... An antidote? I'm sure after years of trials and testing, there should be plenty of research on it. You doctors wouldn't so willingly give it to us without knowing what it does, right?" Joker wasn't stupid. There was no doubt in his mind that the patients at Arkham would be perfect for those shitty doctors to test out whatever they wanted on them.
The patients were just seen as mentally unstable nobodies-locked away and forgotten. Most of the inmates rarely had any visitors, no one to check on them or make sure everything was fine. Those educated narcissists were always more than willing to use them as test subjects. That was exactly why Scarecrow had gotten away with his bullshit for so long.
Everyone knew Dr. Jonathan Crane... Any patient who was unfortunate enough to meet him, usually weren't the same afterwards. The doctor had a fascination with bringing out people's greatest fears, typically using noxious gases created from rare plants. He became the Chief Administrator at the asylum and ran a 'Fear Aversion' therapy program, where he claimed by forcing someone to face their worst fears, they'd be able to overcome them. It just ended up mentally breaking the people he tested on.
"Honestly, Mista J... You know better than anyone how most doctors are... When I offered you that trial medication, that version had already been tested dozens of time. From the reports I've read and doctors I spoke with, the patient is administered the drug and within the hour, have their memories completely wiped clean." The doctor spoke, twirling her hair between her fingers. "Aside from that, I haven't heard of any fun side effects. How boring..."
Joker raised a brow when the doctor pouted. Erasing a person's identity and all of their memories...and it was boring because the person didn't suffer from any side effects? If she wasn't so delusional and obsessed with him, maybe he'd consider letting her work for him. She had a great imagination and was smart...mixed in with a touch of madness and masochism.
However...madness was his specialty.
"Don't worry, puddin'! That was the only reason I offered it to you in the first place. I'd never try to give Mista J something that would hurt him. I did my research first." Harleen clasped her hands together, humming a little tune.
What the hell did she want? A fucking prize? Should he be thankful that his psychiatrist actually did some research on a drug and its side effects before feeding it to him? If anything, the blonde should be grateful he didn't break her damn jaw over the whole matter. It was bad enough having to deal with the constant sexual harassment, but then she wanted to get rid of all his memories? What was the purpose? So that he would forget he couldn't stand her, and she could try to convince him they were lovers or something?
The clown wasn't a fool and knew exactly what this woman wanted from him... If she truly 'loved' him, then why was she so hellbent on rehabilitating or changing him? No one wipes away everything that makes a person who they are if they really cared about them. Harley was in love with the 'idea' of him and infatuated with the thought of being loved by him, someone who was considered to not possess a heart or any humanity left.
"Ya wouldn't hurt me...just erase me." His voice was low, dark eyes narrowing on the woman staring at him so warmly. When his words finally registered, her jaw dropped at the accusation. It was like she was appalled he would even suggest such a thing.
"I don't wanna erase you! You would still be who you are, just without all the terrible memories painted all over that genius brain of yours. Mista J can't be taken out that easily... The Joker is you and you are the Joker. People can clean out the garbage in a person's mind or try to cover up the stink, but no one-no matter how smart they think they are-can erase a person's soul. Eventually, it comes shinnin' through!" Her words came out in a high-pitched singing voice, smiling brightly.
"Interesting..." Perhaps this woman was smarter than she looked. "Harley, you said there were no side effects with that version. I take it there were, ah, some with the others?"
"Harley?!... Oh. I get it... Harley..." Instead of answering the question, the blonde furrowed her brows in deep though. Slim fingers caressed the pale skin on her chin as she looked up towards the ceiling.
"Answer the question!" Joker growled out, trying to bring her back to Earth. Sometimes, it was extremely difficult to carry on a conversation with this woman anymore. It took copious amounts of patience and finesse to pull it off without resorting to violence. The ironic part was that her job required constantly listening to people all day. After the first few weeks of their sessions, the blonde's attention span waned considerably, unless it was something that involved him. Always a one-track mind...
"Yeah... Yeah! Okay... Sorry, puddin'. I heard you, was just thinkin'.. Hmm... Oh, yes. Quite a few of the other trials had gone pretty bad, sometimes with the patient passing away from complications or left in an irreparable mental state. It really depends on what version they received... That's from what I understood about it. Usually, it just did the job it was created for. That Dr. Crane...brilliant, but such an unpredictable asshole."
Joker sat back in his seat, deep in thought. Harley wasn't the only one having a hard time concentrating these days... Running a hand through his faded green hair, a sigh left his ruined lips. There was so much to do, yet he found himself distracted all the time. It uncharacteristic for him to be like this, but the circumstances had considerably changed compared to before.
When not roaming the dark streets of Gotham or making sure things were going as planned, the clown's time was spent in an apartment across town...with Sakura. Now that everything's changed, it was becoming harder to leave each time...
It almost felt like no time passed between them, and yet everything was so...different. He wasn't that dirty blonde-haired boy who dreamed of a peaceful life with the cutie next door, and she wasn't the pink haired girl who would be willing to get into trouble with him.
No... He was now a cold-blooded murderer and criminal who terrorized the city they grew up in. Has been for years now...and that wasn't going to stop. Sakura was just starting to figure out who she really was after years of being imprisoned in her own mind... For the last seven years, the pinkette lived as another person entirely. Pushed into place by Bruce Wayne and other people who tried guiding her into a life they believed would be ideal. Having no clue who she was or having any memories, she probably didn't know what to do and just listened-doing whatever she was told...
'Better late than never...'
It was annoying having to wait for her to come home from work. Several times now, he debated on just blowing Wayne Enterprises into a million pieces, then she wouldn't have a reason to leave the apartment. The only thing stopping him was how happy the pinkette seemed when she came home... Maybe she liked being an interpreter? Or perhaps she was relieved that he was there when she came through the door? Hopefully, it was the latter.
Nothing felt better after roaming Gotham and some fun with the local police, than having somewhere to go with a beautiful woman to fret over him and spend time with. Not any pretty thing would do...only her. Sakura was the one person left in this world who knew the man he used to be. That fact made it more amusing, like she was his own little secret-keeper. He knew she would never whisper a word to anyone. After all, "Tasha" hadn't revealed anything and she could have gone to the authorities and requested protection... Not that it would have done anything. Most of the police were on the mob's payroll, and she would have regretted it afterwards. He would have made sure of it. Plan B would have gone into effect. He really didn't want to resort to that, but he'd do what was necessary for the both of them.
'The Joker is you and you are the Joker...'
The clown may not be that man anymore... Jack...but Sakura was still willing to be with him. It was very clear she still cared for Jack, but was learning to accept the Joker in a similar fashion. Both men still needed her in their own way and were very greedy.
A grin spread across his face at the thought of her... He could still picture Sakura doing her makeup in front of the mirror this morning without a top on, brazenly baring her perky chest. He couldn't help relishing the way her confidence was coming out, no longer trying to hide or cover herself up. It was a futile effort. He would just destroy any barriers in the way. Everything he did had a reason behind it-maybe not a good one-but that didn't matter. She was learning, becoming more comfortable with herself and around him the longer they spent more time together. That's what does matter... A little over a week ago, Tasha couldn't look him in the face without trembling in fear... Now, Sakura would lay in bed with him, running her slim fingers through his messy hair.
He could still hear her soft voice calling his name...feel the way her dainty hands roamed over his scarred chest...how sweet she tasted...
"Mista J, what's got you smiling like that? Huh? Ya thinkin' about Scarecrow?" The image of the pinkette writhing beneath him was quickly dashed when that thick New York accent stabbed into his ears. Groaning out in annoyance, his head rolled along his shoulders, trying to get the tension out.
"No. Just thinkin' about a joke I heard a while back." There was no way he would utter a word about Sakura, let alone to this woman. He wouldn't bring her into his schemes. That wasn't the kind life he imagined for her. If anyone found out about them, they would use her as bait to get to him. It would either end with her being killed out of revenge or ransomed in hopes of dragging him out of the shadows to try a half-assed attempt to capture him... Even then, the police would probably lock the pinkette away for life in Blackgate or Arkham for being an accomplice.
'...I won't let that happen.'
"Come on, puddin'. You never let me in on what's so funny. You know I like jokes too."
Joker leaned back in the chair, his dark eyes watching the doctor's sweet grin. She really didn't have a clue. "Ya wouldn't get it, even if I told ya. Jokes aren't funny anymore if I gotta explain them."
"Well, you have a point... I can't really argue with that. Anyway, what I was saying about Crane... I never heard anything about an antidote or some way of reversing the drugs effects. The people it's usually administered to probably wouldn't have wanted one anyway..."
The clown shifted his head to the side, eyebrows raised as he contemplated her words. "And why's that?"
"I deal with all kinds of patients every single day. Listening to their complaints, hopes and dreams, what they've done... All kinds of ramblings. A lot of them were either born with or developed some sort of psychosis. Others...just went through something so traumatic, they weren't the same anymore..."
'No shit...'
"Think about it. A Marine barely survives after his platoon was blown up from an IED or having to shoot down a child suicide-bomber and can't forget what happened... Being forced to relive those memories every waking moment, not having the luxury of escaping that trauma even in their sleep... A drug like that is a miracle! They could start over with a fresh conscious, have the ability to try to live a somewhat "normal" life. To some people, it's like a dream come true!"
'... What if they want to remember?... Hmm... I'll have to do some snooping around. Crane already escaped from Arkham... He's easy enough to find.'
"All right, Har. Give me the files ya got there." Before she could interrupt, his gloved hand reached across the table, snatching the papers in front of her.
"What? Are you interested in taking it now? Weird timing, considering everything that's going on. Oh, I get it. You're planning to use it on someone. Aren't ya, Mista J? Sneaky, sneaky! Guess you wanna keep them alive if you wanted to know about an antidote. Right? Who is it?" Harley hopped right up when he pushed his chair back.
"All these questions... Watch where you put that nose, pumpkin. You might just end up losing it." That wasn't an idle threat. Sometimes she really was too nosy for her own good. However, he had eyes and ears everywhere. If she started sticking her nose around the wrong dog's ass, he'd have to put her down. Permanently.
"Gotcha, puddin'. Won't get into your business... Just so you know, I've been keeping an eye on Crane for personal reasons. Don't worry, it's not like that. I only have eyes for you." The curious expression on his face must have given her the wrong impression...again. "He's actually been meeting up with the man he did his residency under in Gotham General. Dr. Stephen Wells...along with some other shady people. Mobsters weren't unusual, but the doctor is... It's been years since Crane worked with him, so I thought it was strange. Just food for thought."
"Good job, pumpkin." Reaching forward, he put a gloved hand on top of her head, ruffling her perfectly straight hair. The words were condescending, but that seemed to be completely lost on the doctor. There were very few things she could possibly know that went on in this city that already he didn't have information about.
Harley's eyes widened at the sudden contact and praise. It was probably far more than what she could have expected from this little encounter, but far less than what she dreamed for.
Joker stood up, lazily sliding the file into the inside pocket of his purple trench coat. There was nothing more he needed from this little meeting and lots to do. Turning away from the woman-who stood there gaping at him with a red face-he walked away from the table and towards the door he kicked in earlier.
"D-Don't forget what you promised!" Harley called after him, finally coming to her senses when she realized he was leaving.
Raising a gloved hand without turning back, he stopped halfway through the door. "Yeah, yeah... Ta-ta for now, pumpkin..."
"Thanks, miss Have a good one."
"You too." The man behind the counter handed Sakura her change as she grabbed the bag from the counter. Slipping the money and cigarette pack into her purse, she left the store without another word. A little something for Jack later... Food and smokes were always something he seemed to enjoy when kicking back on the couch.
Looking up towards the sky, it was getting close to evening. What was once a clear blue sky, was now drifting into a different display. The sun getting ready to settle in before night fell. Shades of orange, yellow and red painted the horizon behind the thin wisps of dark gray clouds.
'... Like fire... That's how it looked the day the bridge was blown up...'
Sighing, Sakura walked down the street, her chest feeling heavy. Today had been the first time in the last week that Jack hadn't been waiting for her after work. Usually when she came through the door, he would be sitting at the table or sprawled out on the couch, pouring over papers, sometimes drawing or scribbling things down. Despite the overwhelming curiosity gnawing its way through, she never went out of the way to look or read what he was doing.
"Don't worry. You won't be dragged into the mess going on outside. I don't need an accomplice, just want my woman. I'll make sure you're safe..."
Those words... Even though the world saw him as a reckless psychopath, she could see there was more to it than that. There was no denying what he is. Actions speak louder than words ever could.
A man who painted his face in a way that incited terror...killing and destroying everything in his path. He was completely out of control. Not even Batman had been able to stop him so far. And yet...
This man who was capable of bringing an entire city to its knees, who took over the news and would broadcast tapes with hostages in the background, took Gotham's most beloved structures and crumbled them in his gloved hands-was able to whisperer her name so lovingly in her ear as he gently ran his hands over her body... Was able to make her laugh at the odd things he said and make her heart skip a beat with a single look from those dark eyes...
The feelings from long ago were there, still burning strong. It was her Jack, but also the Joker. They were two very different people inside one man. Two sides of the same coin. You could flip a quarter and chose heads or tails, but it's still just a quarter nonetheless. A coin is a coin no matter what side you chose.
'And no matter what, Jack is the Joker and the Joker is Jack. I'll take him just the same...'
It would be a lie to say Sakura wasn't disappointed to find herself alone when she came home. Seeing his face, whether clad in greasepaint or not, always made her feel better, no matter what kind of mood he was in. At least in the apartment, she knew he was safe for the time being... He'd have somewhere to shower and eat, a nice bed to sleep in. Sometimes in the middle of the night, he'd crawl out of bed and be out for hours, just to come back like he hadn't done anything... Just from the smell on him when he quietly slid under the covers, she knew he'd been up to no good. She never asked and he didn't tell. It was better that way... Right?
Walking down the street, the pinkette shook her head. This area was still a dump...just like she remembered. With all the promises from the politicians and big wigs of Gotham, one would think they would try to do good on even a fraction of what they said.
The Narrows was still as run down and terrible as it was seven years ago. Dilapidated buildings, trash and broken bottles littering the streets. Homeless people and drunks squatting on curbs and in alleyways. Empty drug bags scattered along the sidewalks where children would have to walk over. Lines running from balconies with tattered clothing hanging from it...
'My God...'
Nothing had changed, even after all these years. There were articles in the paper that she skimmed over before that boasted of how well Gotham was doing-aside from the Joker's antics or the mob making smaller moves in comparison. General crime rate was supposedly at an all time low, the economy was on the rise, as well as unemployment.
'Bullshit!'
Where was this happening? Sure, the middle of the city that was home to all the skyscrapers, businesses, and the rich was doing just fine...but outside of that? Did any of the people writing these articles ever take a look at the outskirts of town?
It was a hell hole... Are The Narrows not part of Gotham? Why did it seem like the rest of the city always forgot about this area? Why didn't anyone try to do anything to help?
'That District Attorney really needs to learn what parts of this district are under his jurisdiction... He was the one going on and on about making Gotham a better place and yet the worst part doesn't look like it's even been touched.'
This was the reason for the majority of the crimes committed in the city, ripple effects from what was going on here. People will do anything when they're hungry, homeless, or just overwhelmed from poverty. If the mob offered someone to work for them and says they could get them out of this place, of course they'll take it. Especially if they have a family...
'People will take any hand reaching out to them when they're hanging from the edge of a cliff.'
"Hey, sweetheart... Whatcha doing 'round these parts?" A man's voice made her turn around as she walked past one of the garbage filled alleyways. The smell of alcohol was pungent, making the pinkette scrunch up her nose. "Don't look like your from here. Not a good area! Maybe I can keep ya company? Ya know, so no one bothers ya."
Sakura bit her bottom lip, lowering the purse at her side. Of course, there was always trouble in The Narrows... It was expected. However, she was prepared for a worst case scenario on this little day trip through memory lane. In her purse was the handgun that Jack had insisted on giving her...and the switchblade in her bra.
"Just in case, dollface..."
She took it, knowing he just wanted her to be safe. If she was going to be by his side or live in Gotham, there was going to be some trouble...eventually. It was foolish to think otherwise.
"No thanks. I have all the company I need..."
The drunk man looked at her curiously, expecting a different reaction. Usually women wouldn't walk alone around here. Even prostitutes would have their pimp not far behind. Not only was she alone, but didn't seem afraid.
Stepping in front of her, he leaned in and lowered his gray, bloodshot eyes to get a good look under her hood. Green eyes glanced him over, narrowing in on the ugly Misfits tattoo on his neck. It seemed familiar...
The pinkette slowly slid her hand into the purse hanging from her shoulder, grasping the handle of the weapon. She didn't want to use it, just scare the man if necessary... Honestly, she didn't like the thought of hurting anyone, but if this man tries to mug or attack her, and she couldn't scare him off, the butt of the gun would have to do.
"You have such a pretty face! Why hide it under that hood? Let me get a betta look at you..." He pushed her hood back, making the pink hair fall out around her face. The gun was barely out of her purse when she heard him gasp, taking a few steps back.
'What? Is he that shocked from my hair color?'
Sakura mused, taking in the man's shocked expression as he stumbled back. It was almost funny seeing how his demeanor changed in a split-second.
"What's wrong? Didn't you want to keep me company?" Did he realized she was pulling out a gun? Or some kind of weapon? People around this area usually have some sort of protection anyway and even if they didn't, a broken bottle would do the trick.
"S-Sorry... I think I mistook you for someone else. Just forget about it... Look, I'm leavin'. See? No problems!" The drunk man seemed to sober up real fast as he backed away, seemingly terrified. She shifted her head to the side, completely bewildered. This person was three times her size and could probably rip any weapon from her small hands before she could even use it. What was his issue?
Sakura's brows furrowed, watching him back into a crate and clumsily fall over. Hastily getting to his feet, he turned away and shot down the alley, out of sight.
"... Strange."
What an odd reaction... Looking down at the shopping bag in hand, a heavy sigh left her lips. Where did she see that tattoo before? Shaking the contents around while running through her memories, she kept walking down the street, trying to ignore what happened.
'Did he try to mug me before? Did I see him walking around back in the day? Maybe he was a thug Jack beat up? That was a long time ago... Would someone remember that?'
Sakura hummed to herself as she turned a familiar corner, twisting the handle of the bag between her fingers.
"Ah!" The fundraiser... That's where she's seen that terrible excuse for a tattoo. It was the clown who glanced down at her and kept going to harass and push the other guests around, ripping off their masks.
'Based off his reaction, Jack must have told them not to touch me...in some colorful way...'
A grin spread across her face thinking about it. He had an odd way of doing things, but that's how he is.
The sidewalk was cracked and uneven, easy to trip over if someone wasn't properly looking where they were going. Potholes littered the streets, just asking to pop someone's tire if they didn't swerve in the right direction.
Standing in front of the old building, Sakura's eyes widened at the state of the place she used to call home. It was in ruins...even for The Narrows. Most of the place was just rubble... The only thing left was part of a wall and doorway from the entrance. Anything left was gray and black from the damage that must have destroyed it. From the looks of it, whatever happened to the place wasn't anything recent. It must have been years ago.
'An explosion... No... Fire? Did someone finally have enough of that shit hole? Or fall asleep with a cigarette again?'
No. It was probably Jack. He hated this place more than anything and all the bad memories that came with it. The abuse and neglect they both endured, his father, having to watch his mother being stabbed to death... The scars, getting arrested, all the screaming and fighting... Her falling from the fire escape and him thinking she died that night. This was the place where he lost everything...even himself.
'No wonder...'
Looking at the old doorway to the building, she could still see herself standing there in disbelief that one terrible night years ago...
