Hi! Okay, so before you start reading, I just want to warn you that, while I don't personally think that it's too gory, there is some blood and death described in this chapter. I don't think it's too bad, but please read at your own descretion, as everyone's level of comfort varies with each person. Thank you!
Well, damn. Again. Seriously again. Honestly, the whole "well, fuck, I've been kidnapped again" thought should not be a regular, normal first thought that enters her head more than 0% of the time when regaining consciousness. Of all the many, many things in her life to become a regular thing, why for fuck's sake did it have to be getting kidnapped monthly? Because of course, it had to be kidnapping. At the very, very least, she knew just which asswipes did it this time! Honestly! Did these fuckwads ever learn anything? Fucking hydra! She doesn't know jackshit, and she is so fucking tired of this boring kidnapping shitstorm!
Her face throbs where she's just been backhanded by the random asshole goon standing in front of her only a moment ago. She's pretty sure that, given time, her face, or at least half of it, will be spotted black and blue and ugly yellow with bruising thanks to the other bastards who have already hit her, in addition to the fucker who just did. Well, at least she's giving back as good as she can, given her current state of being tied up to yet another chair. (Really, no surprise on her part there.)
One of the goons is totally sobbing their eyes out with big, fat tears of regret after her lengthy lecture of just how ashamed their dear mommas would be if they found out what absolutely repulsive shitholes their children have become, providing that their mommas don't condone and share the same values as their spawn, which at least one of them doesn't if the crying goon means anything. That trick generally works on at least one asshole every time! Another loser hydra agent is like only two seconds away from joining their sobbing buddy. As far as she can tell, she's also pretty sure she's really close to getting the mother fucker who just smacked her to start crying too. (Join the party, twat! Only assholes invited! Pretty sure they're gonna make T-shirt too!) Now, whether that be from fear of her rescuers (because any rescuer she's had will just be so glad to rain hellfire down on this place once she's out of it) or just out of plain old regret of his life choice to not be an actual semi-decent human with even a smidgeon of morality…eh, she's really not too picky at this point. So long as he starts tearing up, she'll take what she can get. Outside the room she's currently in, somewhere, Darcy is really quite confident that another random goon, who she's fried right in the Royal Jewels with her Stark-upgraded, strong enough to take down a full-fledged Asgardian (let's just say that wherever he is, Fandral is still wary of her), taser, is cupping his now no-longer sire-rearing bits and mourning them greatly. So, at least there's that too.
"Miss Lewis, you need only tell us what we wish to know, and this will all be over," Asswipe Number: Who Gives a Fuck says, tiredness bleeding from his eyes on his otherwise attempted and failed blank face and desperation for her cooperation lacing his tone. She wishes she could smirk. Yeah, her face is hurting like a bitch, but she's pretty sure that he wants this to be done with for his sake way more than as a bargaining chip for her.
Instead, she settles for rolling her eyes and spitting at his eyes. "First, it's Ms. or Mix Lewis! M-s-period or m-i-x! I won't bother spewing a beautiful feminist rant that's already in my mind and ready to be shared since it would only be a waste of oxygen and carbon dioxide and energy on your worthless ears! Second, I don't have your fucking information! And even if I did, like hell I'd give it to the likes of fuckers like you! I'm pretty sure I'd sooner die than that!" she retorts.
"Well, now, toots, we wouldn't want that, now would we? No, siree!" a new, familiar voice drawls from the doorway. Her attacker whips around, only to be met with a bullet to the face. He drops down deader than a doorknob. "You weren't kiddin', huh, sweetheart? You really do have enough kidnappings to warrant that Card. By the way, need that marked?"
She looks up, slightly unsure as to whether she should be relieved or not at seeing the face of her rescuer. Honestly, she'd half-hoped that after that one time three weeks ago he'd forget about her. Apparently, no luck because standing before her is the Joker, decked out in a silky looking, deep purple button up and a pair of nice black slacks. His hair is even slicked back all nice and neat. Actually, he kinda looks all dapper. Huh. Nice. In one hand, he holds the gun that he's just fired while the other one hangs empty at his side. From her vantage point, a few various golden rings adorn his fingers. Around his torso wraps a gun holster, a few extra mags strapped into it.
"Yep! I so totally told you!" she says as the Joker gets to work getting her out of her bonds, starting at her feet, which are clichély tied to the legs of the damned chair. "And yep, they wouldn't sign it. I even asked nicely, the fucktards!"
"Hmm, I see. Know where it is now?" He even has a contemplative frown pulling at his lips.
"With my stuff, I think. I've taken to keeping a spare in my pocket, though, since I keep getting kidnapped even more frequently." Once her hands are free, she digs her card out and hands it to the green-haired clown.
"He takes it and then marches over to one of the cowering hydra asswipes. "You see this card? You're going to fucking sign this card just like the pretty lady wants, capiche, buddy?"
"Y-you're the Joker! What did she do to warrant you coming for her?" the sniveling coward manages to ask in between pathetic hiccupped sniffs.
"That…is absolutely none of your beeswax, boy. Now, I'm not going to ask so…nicely again. Mark the damn card!" the Joker roars.
For some unobtainable reason, the hydra goon somehow grows the beginnings of a pair and declines with a loud "no." Of course, this teeny, tiny act of stupid bravery only gets him the Joker's bullet lodged in his brain in the blink of an eye, blood pouring from the fresh wound in a steady little trickle.
"Wrong!" the Kind of Gotham hisses with delight and then tsk, tsks. Then he wets his finger with the dead man's blood and then dots a bit of the red stuff on her card where the Avengers usually mark once they've made sure that she's fine. Okay, well, that's just ew on more than a couple levels. Next, the Joker stands back up and saunters over to Darcy, card outstretched as an offering towards her. She pockets the card, trying oh so hard not to think about the blood staining it. Seriously, he's like a cat, but twenty thousand times worse in that he's killed a human instead of a little mouse or something like that and is giving it to her as a gift, and if she rejects it, she might be the next thing he decides to kill, and he's kinda the one in charge in this…whatever it is between them.
"So, what do you say we blow this shitstand, doll? I want some ice-cream. Do you want some?" he asks, holding out his pale as fuck hand. "My boys will take care of everything from here."
Darcy contemplates the question for a moment before easily taking his offered hand in hers. "Well, fuck it! Why the hell not? I want some ice-cream now. Sure, let's get some!" she answers, running some last bits of adrenaline.
With a deranged, delightedly wide grin, he leads her out of the room and down a series of hallways. Around them, a bunch of his men, all dressed up in animal costumes and letting out magazine after magazine of bullets into any hydra agent they come across, surround them as they walk. Okay, so now she's got a strange ass posse… ice cream. Just focus on the ice cream she's gonna get and most definitely not on the bodies falling dead all around her, even if they are just pathetic hydra agents. Ice cream. Ice cream and…the Joker's arm around her shoulder? Okay. Sure. That too. Taking the opportunity and hoping that he won't mind too much, she burrows into his side and tries to hide her face in his shoulder, doing her best to block the sight of death and gore all around her. In response, he simply hugs her tighter to his side. Oh, okay, good. He doesn't mind.
After about ten minutes of making their way out of wherever the hell they're at, the group finally comes to the exit. Outside, she finally comes out from where she'd hidden her head against his shoulder to find three vans waiting for them. He helps her into one before climbing in after her and plants himself right next to her. Only one more person hops in after them, a tall, well-built white man who looks to be maybe in his mid-to-late thirties or even very early forties, donning a semi-formal suit but loaded with guns. In one of his hands, though, he holds her purse. Her purse! Yes! Fucking score!
"Boss, I got the lady's purse and stuff like you asked," he says, handing it to the Joker, who in turn hands it right to her.
"Excellent. Well, then, Johnny, if you've got all her stuff and anything else you or the boys have deemed worthy of saving, we're done here. Light 'em up, boys!" the maniac beside Darcy says and lets out a loud, uncontrolled cackle as the doors to the back of the can are closed. With a screech of tires and the revving of an engine, they're tearing away, the sound of an explosion filling up the world behind them.
She rummages around in her purse to see what's left after those hydra suckers went through it. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, nearly all her stuff is still there…probably because it's actually that special time of the month for a person with womanly bits to get a visit from fucking Aunt Flow and the first visible thing inside her bag is a bunch of tampons and pads…super totally scary stuff to the cowardly men of hydra. Her phone isn't in there, but that was on her at the time of the abduction and she'd expected that to be gone anyway. Her wallet is even still there, though! She looks up with a bright beam at the man sitting across from her and the Joker.
"Holy shit, man., you're the best! You're totally awesome!" she exclaims, sending a tired, but very happy smile his way. "I'm Darcy Lewis, by the way. Hi!" She even waves.
He lets his lips curl upwards before getting a frown on his face when he glances towards the clown king at her side. He coughs a bit and clears his throat. "Yeah, I know who you are, everyone does. You're the boss's girl. I'm Johnny Frost, and it was no problem getting your stuff, ma'am."
She has to raise her eyebrows at being called the "boss's girl." She is no one's girl, just her own. Besides, she's really quite certain that she'd know if she were dating the Joker. He'd totally have told her. Plus, she's not really sure either of them feels that way towards one another. She's only met the dude once! If it were literally anyone else, she'd correct them, but she's still actually kinda scared of the Joker and still doesn't actually know where she stands with him. He is still the Joker, mad wackodo who likes killing people if he gets an answer he doesn't like or just for shits and giggles, not giving a rat's ass about anyone else.
She leans in as though telling him a secret. "Well, Johnny, don't tell the others, but you're totally my favorite," she faux whispers, accentuating the last word with an exaggerated wink.
"Don't worry, ma'am, your secret is safe with me," he dares to whisper back teasingly, a smile tugging at his lips even as she can actually feel the Joker glare at him.
From there, it takes about half an hour for them to reach their destination…wherever the hell that is. When they finally get there, she's exhausted and pretty ready to drop, nice and comfortable in that beautiful, fuzzy world between being asleep and almost awake. Her adrenaline high had pretty much left her a few minutes into the ride. Now, she's even to the point of exhaustion where she's half sprawled all over the Joker's shoulder, because sometime between the start of the ride and now she'd ended up like this. What? Kidnapping tires Darcy the fuck out and if the Joker wanted to hurt her, he'd have done it already, so she can be tired and show it around him now. Besides, it's not her fault he makes a rather great pillow and his hand running through her hair is simply fantastic. She's just being opportunistic. Who knew the crime King of Gotham was actually, surprisingly really kinda a great pillow? Huh, well now she knows and is totally reaping the benefits of this little factoid. Sure, her face is throbbing like a biatch and a bit, like really, swollen, but she's comfy. The adrenaline rush from earlier has now completely faded and she is now very ready to slip away into the land of dreams. She's so tired, in fact, that the Joker even hands her stuff to Johnny so that he can pick her up when it's time to disembark, snaking one arm under her knees and wrapping the other under her back as she rests her head on his shoulder.
Then they enter the building.
Judging by what she knows and has heard about him, she's pretty sure the Joker's place is an old factory on the outside but totally decked out inside with the latest technological shit. Despite her mind and vision being foggy from exhaustion, she can tell that she's mostly right about the inside. Outside…no idea. Doesn't really see it. Inside, though, it's almost like the strange hybrid baby of an HGTV dreamhouse, a smart house, and an odd thrift shop. Bits and pieces of the technology look about as up to date and expensive as one can get without being Tony while other parts look original to an industrial factory, all the while having little splashes of actually very hip, stylish furniture and decoration scattered around the place. Kinda chaotic but still quite stylish and, if Darcy actually takes the time to really think about, very much matching what she knows about the Joker's sense of taste.
Of course, Darcy is only able to get a quick look as she's carried to wherever it is he's taking her…which turns out to be the kitchen, a huge, decked out industrial, state of the art kitchen. He sets her down on a stool at a huge, concrete island. Then he's digging through the freezer. Huh? Oh, yeah! Ice cream! How could she have forgotten? After coming out with multiple cartons of ice cream, he grabs two spoons and heads over to her. She chooses a carton of trusty old cookies 'n' cream while he goes for good ole' peanut butter fudge swirl. Once she's got her spoon, she's about to dig in with gusto but he stops her, spoon only about two inches away from her awaiting mouth. Through her foggy state, she tries her best to glare at him with as much distaste as she can muster, which apparently isn't all that much if his returned smirk is anything to go by.
"Sorry, sweets, but we gotta get you some stuff for your face before I can let ya eat that ice cream," he purrs, petting a finger down her face. She pouts but sets the spoon down.
The next moment, Johnny, the good (well, you know, relative) man, walks in with a bottle of pills, a few washcloths, and her stuff. He hands the pills and her stuff to the Joker then heads over to the sink to wet the cloths. The Joker puts her stuff on the counter and spills a couple pills into his hand then hands them to her along with a glass of water…that must have appeared when she wasn't paying attention or something. Eh, she's not really all there and awake right now and just wants her ice cream, so no one can blame her for not being 1000% aware of everything going on around her. She accepts the glass and pills easily, popping the latter into her mouth and washing it down with a swig of the former. Should she be at least the slightest bit worried that he's trying to poison her? Sure, but, eh, the same logic applies with this as it does with her whole not really caring that she's showing "weakness" in front of him. If the dude wanted to harm her, he'd totally have done it already and most definitely wouldn't be offering her ice cream. Plus, Johnny is back in front of her, the cloths in his hand now wet with warm liquid. After getting the approval from the Joker (really, though, shouldn't he be asking her?), he begins to dab it on her face, washing it free of any nasty stuff on it. When he pulls it back, she spots splashes of red and hazily, distractedly wonders whether the blood is hers or some random ass goon's. Really, though, she doesn't really care or remember. She's just kinda glad it's coming off her.
Once her face has been clean, she scoops up her spoon, piles it high with her ice cream, and, watching the Joker with a glare that is most likely not threatening in the very least, daring him to stop her, shoves it straight into her mouth. She doesn't even try to hold back the sluggish moan of delight at the taste of the sugary goodness melting on her tongue. In the back of her conscious, she registers Johnny leaving with the sullied washcloths as the Joker plops down on a stool next to her, starting to devour a carton of ice cream of his own.
For a while, the only sounds between the two of them are the air vent, the hum of appliances, and the consuming of their frozen treats as Darcy processes life and lets the medicine work its magic, which it really is, cause the pain has definitely gone down, and her companion…thinks about whatever it is people like him think about. Yep, Darcy and the Joker sitting alone is a kitchen, just eating ice cream together after she's been rescued from a hydra kidnapping by him. Nothing weird or unusual going on here. It's all perfectly normal! Really. Honest to Loki, though, how is this her life now?
"Okay," she starts when she can't take it and just has to speak about something to fill this strange, awkward silence. They are nowhere near the level of familiarity at this stage in their relationship (whatever the hell that may be) where silence is comfortable between them. "Just what should I call you? I can't keep calling you 'the Joker' in my head. It's annoying. Can I call you Jay? I like Jay. I'm gonna call you Jay now."
A feral grin splits his red-stained lips. "Why of course, you can, honeycheeks! 'The Joker' is just so…impersonal and formal and what people who don't know me, like the press, call me. We're just so much closer, so much more than that by miles, aren't we, dollface?" he purrs.
They are? Since when? And just what is he implying or suggesting with that little "more?" He's abducted her once and rescued her once as of today…okay. Sure, they're more like acquaintances by now, Darcy can at least agree to giving him that. "More" than that, though? He must be crazy…oh, wait…he actually really is the clinical definition of it, like if she were to look up crazy in a dictionary, there'd be his face.
"Coolsies, you're totally Jay now," she decides to say after a moment's deliberation.
"Yay! Bestie nicknames! My turn now! You're…hmm… it can't be something I can call anyone else or something others call you," he pouts as he thinks his choices over. Good luck with that, buddy, she thinks but restrains from voicing. I've been called so many different things, I doubt you'll be able to find something special.
"I don't know, Jay-man, I don't really mind your every-changing nicknames for me. They're kinda fun." Really, they are. Plus, she likes her life too much to protest to them, and they really aren't half bad. She's been called way worse.
"Okay, jester queenie…oh! Queenie! I like it!" Huh, well, what do you know. You managed it, she sasses mentally, at least she's like 98% positive that it had only been mental. "After all, every king needs a queen!" He cackles and guffaws wildly between bites of frozen dessert. "Plus, I think kings totally sweep in and save their queens from kidnappings!" Sweet baby Jesus, that man sure is proud of himself.
"Yeah, actually, about that…how the fuck did you find me before anyone else, and just how did you even know I was abducted in the first place?" Honestly, she should have lead with that. "And I'm pretty sure it's the princes who rescue the princess or vice versa." Because, of course, that last sentence is the most relevant part of the conversation.
"Eh, semantics." He tries to shrug modestly. Pfft, as if anything about the Joker could be modest. It really is quite a laughable thought. Hydra agents would probably become saints before that ever happened. "As for the second question, I had a detail on you, missy." Figures. It's not like she expected anything else from him.
"Not a miss or a missus, just Ms. M-s-period." She doesn't even try to stop the correction. It's a habit that she's had to pick up after correcting numerous assholes over the years. Again, that last bit was definitely the most important part of what he's just said. "So, a detail, hmm? Like stalking my every move kind of detail?" Okay, well, as creepy as that may be, that's not really a new development there. The Avengers and Co.™ have kinda demanded something along that line too. "How in the world did you manage to find me before the others then? That's the part I don't get. The detail is the only bit I do."
"Eh, I'm good at disrupting signals." He says it so casually and nonchalantly. Amazed, impressed dread fills her and her blood runs a tad colder in her veins. Amazement that he actually managed to do that to Tony's systems and dread because of what it actually means.
"Disrupting signals?" Seriously, he fucked up their tracking system so they wouldn't find her first. Really quite amazing, if it didn't mean exactly what she thinks it means. A groan pours from her mouth at the next revelation. "They don't even know I've been kidnapped, do they?"
"Nope!" He even pops the "p." Truly, she can't help the facepalm and rolling of eyes in response.
"You know, I'd thank you for the rescue, but now I wonder if this counts as another kidnapping too. If so, you totally have to sign my Card." She pokes her spoon at him.
"You came willingly, so I don't really think this counts as a kidnapping, but 'course I'll sign it for you, sweets," he says with ease. Yeah, sure it can count. May as well.
"So, if they don't know I've been taken, then what do they think I've been doing for the last…is it a few hours now?" She arches an eyebrow as she shoves a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.
"Whatever it is you said you were gonna do, probably." Of course, they do, her poor team.
"Not that I'm ungrateful for all the rescuing, or maybe it's kidnapping now…this whatever, because really, I am, but why'd you even come after me in the first place? You haven't answered me on that one yet." And now she's going to blame her less than stellar state on this repeating thing going on. When in doubt, blame the drugs.
"I told you, Queenie, I like ya!" He doesn't say more than that as if that's somehow magically enough explanation for his behavior.
"Yes, we've established that. Your point?"
"Well, I had my boys keepin' an eye on you, like I said, Darcy dear! As soon as I heard that those assholes had thought it was a good idea to take you, I came after you! No one touches my stuff without my permission. Apparently, they needed a reminder." His lips spread in a feral, uncontrolled smile as he growls the last sentence.
"Woah, buddy slow down there. Okay, firstly, I'm a person, not an object, Jay, and I'm not even really yours to boot. I'm pretty sure I'd remember saying yes to that since I wasn't even drunk or high at the time, unless you count adrenaline, cause then I could say that I was pumped full of that last time. Secondly, although maybe it should have been first—no, second sounds about right—you have guys on me? Dude, I've got the Avengers…yeah, okay, you did manage to temporarily outsmart and mess with them..." It's really just verbal rambling and word spew and repeating shit now. Seriously, she really needs to work on fixing her brain-to-mouth filter or at least consider investing in getting one. It feels worse than usual today, though…maybe it's because of that stuff he had her take earlier? Yep, totally going to blame being doped up on whatever drug he gave her. Her words are even getting mumbly with tiredness. "Anyway, why come after me yourself and not let my team take care of it?"
"I was getting bored, sweetheart," he drawls dramatically. "Can't a king miss his queen?"
"Yeah, sure, if the king actually had a queen. Dude, Jay, I don't remember us being a thing or even a Thing, and I'm pretty sure that I'd remember that!" He shrugs in response as he gathers their stuff, puts the remaining ice cream back in the freezer and dumps the two spoons in the sink. Aw, she was gonna eat that, but oh, well. It's probably good he's cutting off her supply…for…some reason that she can't think of right now.
She takes a deep, calming breath as she can see that she's going in circles with him. Fine, fuck it. She's too damn tired for this. He's not being dangerous to others with this thought and he is a clinically insane psychopath. If it were pretty much anyone else, she'd push it, but since it is him, she'll let him think whatever he wants, too damned ready for a nap to give a rat's ass about arguing with him in this state. Besides, the sane, cautious part of her mind is still slightly scared that he'll start a killing spree if she pushes too much, and she really doesn't want that. Is the imbalance unhealthy? Yep, probably most definitely, but he is the Joker, and she's just glad she's still alive and pretty much mostly unharmed past what those hydra sickos did to her. Him liking her at all in any sense of that word is pretty much just extra coolsies, like that bonus fry at the bottom of the bag, not expected but so totally a welcomed, lovely surprise.
"Eh, I must not have asked. Oh, well, at least there's not a boy to kill!" The way he says it leaves room for an inquiring accusation. As in, if she had someone, he'd have killed them? Okay, again…the drugs are working their way happily through her system and she really doesn't want to dwell on the topic or poke it with a twelve-foot pole, at least not now.
"Yeah…lucky that…" Honestly, usually she's like the queen at rambling and losing focus, but this conversation has totally run away from her post-adrenaline-crash, drugged up mind. Her words are even running together now. "So, tell me, you gonna let my people know that I'm not where they think I am?"
"Aw, Queenie, I'm hurt!" She really has to call upon the last remaining scraps of her self-control to not freeze in place. Anyone else, she'd take it as s teasing comment. Him? It could most definitely become a thinly veiled, potential death threat. "You trying to get rid of me?"
"Dude, I am doped up on whatever the fucking hell you gave me, even if it is helping with the pain, mentally and emotionally exhausted, and suffering from the post-adrenaline crash. I want my bed and my fluffy, fuzzy blanket and a nap. I still have some work to do today too! It's not even an off day today. I have shit to do!"
Then she watches as the Joker himself pouts like a fucking kid and actually manages to look adorable while doing it. "Aw, fine. I'll drop you off at that nice little café by that Tower," he relents with a sigh.
Thus, only about an hour later, when the team finally show up all suited up and worry drenching their faces, Jay must have called them to let them know of her whereabouts, they find her sitting at a corner table outside the café, nursing a delicious hot chocolate in a cute little mug that Jay had bought her (like actually fucking paid with real money), one half of her face bruised up, and casually people watching they go by.
"Oh, hey, guys! Lovely weather we're having today, isn't it?"
I hope you all liked it!