AN: Chapter five! Thanks you guys so freakin' much for the reviews.
yeokaiwen31801: Thank you so much! I like to blame my lack of fans on the fact that maybe there just aren't that many people looking for a Dark Knight OC/Joker romance lol I'm really happy there are a few people enjoying this, though.
clarab10: Thanks! Unless google translate is telling me wrong, I'm glad you enjoyed my story!
summerofthe1975: I'm so happy for you continued support! Thank you so so much for the kind review; it really means so much.
It means so much from all of you and I really hope everyone continues to like my writing. :)
It's been about two weeks, nearly three, and I've left my apartment only four times. Needless to say I haven't gotten another job. I can't trust god not to pull another cruel joke; I might not survive the next one. I managed to feed myself with some light shoplifting, during daylight, of course, in different stores dotted around Gotham, but I'm always hungry and my bills are due next week. I figure I only have a few more days after that until I'm cut off, so I've been trying to enjoy myself and relax with power, running water, and some good ole fashioned cable.
"Well, I don't know about Mr. Lau's travel arrangements, but, um, I'm sure glad he's back." District Attorney Harvey Dent tells the news cast. For some reason, I think he's lying. A photo of Mr. Lou appears briefly on the screen and I find that I recognize him. Coincidentally, the last time I saw him was also on a television. So he has been apprehended. Looks like the Joker was right and Dent is lying; there's no way the Batman wasn't involved. I wonder how close Dent is with our masked superhero.
"I'm not aware of any participation by the Batman-" I flip the channel. I can't be the only one hearing his load of bull. In less than twenty minutes, I've made my way back to the news channel. Shit has hit the fan.
"Seven hundred and twelve counts of extortion, eight hundred and forty nine counts of racketeering, two hundred and forty six counts of fraud, eighty seven counts of conspiracy murder, and five hundred and twenty seven counts of obstruction of justice are all of the charges made against the five hundred and forty nine criminals taken into court this afternoon after the arrest of the crime lord Lau earlier this morning. Lau promises to testify knowledge of all the Mafia's investments in an arrangement made with Gotham District Attorney, Harvey Dent. Lau is to remain safe in the MCU precinct until he is due in court." a busty newscaster tells the camera.
Damn, this story is playing out as if the Joker wrote it himself. I can't help but notice the lack of mention of the man so far. I would've figured he'd be big news. I wish the Batman would just go ahead and arrest him or kill him or something; I'm getting real sick and tired of these apartment walls. Honestly, as strange as it is, I feel like I'd be a teensey bit sad if he was dead- maybe more like half a teensey.
I can't help but wonder what Harvey Dent in his chin was thinking. I mean, sure, he's made a huge dent, pun intended, in the mob scene, but at what cost? Everyone's going to be after him, now. The mob, politicians, journalists, cops- anyone whose wallets about to get lighter. Dent's done a great thing for the people, but has pretty much screwed himself. As a citizen, I should be grateful, but it's hard to get around my new impression of him; he's an idiot, but I guess there's a lot of people out there that'll like him for that.
I suppose the opinion of one citizen going against the norm won't make a difference. Nothing I ever do seems to, anyway, not that I expect it to. I'm just a little spec in this city, which is a little spec on state, on the country, on the world. I can't see Harvey's little hero complex touching anything outside of the walls of this spec. The Joker, either. If higher ups like that can't scratch the surface, what hope do I have? I sigh and return to the television. I think I'll stay on the news channel for now, wait for something else interesting to happen. Or at least see if I can find some sort of peace of mind over my whole imminent death thing.
I find a lot more peace of mind than I plan, but I'm not complaining. I fall asleep completely, sleeping all the way through the first night in weeks. My dreams are relatively calm as I relive my memories. I see my mother through my ten year old eyes and she's beautiful. She'd work all day while my father stayed home with me. When arriving home, the first thing she always did was scoop me into a perfect hug; I can't remember feeling someone's arms around me since those days. My head would rest on her shoulder and I could feel her pendant press against my small chest.
The second thing she always did was go to my father and hug him the same, planting a brief but passionate kiss on his lips. I can still remember the feeling of being loved, of knowing that as long as those two people existed in my life, I would always be cared for. I saw everyday how much they loved each other; it makes me smile. I used to dream of finding love like that, but that hope was torn apart and drown in the fear of loss. No one in their right mind would dare love someone if they could see the face of agony that comes with a lover lost; I had to look at that face everyday since I was twelve and until I was eighteen when I moved out. I couldn't stand to see the broken man that was my father. I couldn't stand that I couldn't help him. I thought he didn't love me. I thought Mom took all of his love with her.
I didn't know I was the last thing he had. I didn't know I took away the last thing he had by leaving.
I can see it happening. I can see him writing under the dim light of a lamp, writing each of his words carefully and slowly. I can see him rub away a tear and begin tying the knot like a boy scout. I can see the loop fit around his neck and pull tight as his feet never hit the ground. I feel the tightness around my throat and my mind fills with a million what if's.
What if I stayed?
What if I called?
What if I could've done something- anything?
What if it's all my fault?
A burning cord presses into my neck, making air struggle to enter my lungs. I almost welcome the sensation, despite the water running down my cheeks and the silent cries escaping my lips. Maybe this is all for the best. In the end, what does it matter if I live or die?
My eyes open suddenly and my hand reaches for my neck. I feel the small silver chain press lightly into my skin. I sit up and readjust my necklace. I glance at the time and see that I've slept most of the morning away. At eleven o'clock in the morning, I turn to the television, desperate for a distraction. I get what I'm looking for.
The tv shows what looks to Batman, dangling from a noose, being slowly lowered to the ground with the caption "Batman dead?" of course he's not, right? I ignore the stirring emotions caused by the noose. The news cast confirms my suspicions.
"A man of the name Brian Douglass was found hanging in front of office window of Gotham City's Mayor Garcia . The culprit, the Joker, makes no attempt to hide his identity, even going the extra mile to make it clear to city. A joker playing card was found pinned to the body with the caption 'Will the real Batman please stand up', parodying a popular song by rap artist Eminem." the male newscaster says gravely. Huh, I wouldn't have pegged the Joker as an Eminem fan, not that I can really imagine him listening to any kind of music, anyway. "The Joker painted and scarred Douglass' face to resemble his, and even released video footage of the crime. I want to warn the public to beware; the image is disturbing." he says seriously, and cuts to a home video looking recording of an imitation Batman restrained to a chair in a meat locker with large hanging meat suspended behind him.
The Joker's voice is the same as ever, extra crisp as he speaks near the mic "Tell them your name." he says like he was asking a shy child to introduce himself.
"Brian… Douglass." fake Batman answers hesitantly while the Joker's giggles echo in the room.
The microphone crackles and the Joker approaches and eagerly asks "Are you the real Batman?" as if he didn't know; his voice sends a minor chill across my body.
"No." Brian answers simply.
"No?" the Joker asks in mock surprise, "No?" he asks again teasingly, his laughter breaking up his words and sending loud breaths over the camera mic. "Then why do ya dress up like him?" he talks in a way that makes me think of a bully harassing a middle schooler on Halloween, especially as he rips off the rubbery Batman mask.
Pudge?!
I bolt upright and gasp loudly as I recognize Brian. The Joker's insane giggling continues as he jiggles the mask in front of the camera with a sarcastically impressed laugh. At this point, Pudge bravely speaks, causing me to shake my head; he doesn't stand a chance.
"He's a symbol; we don't have to be afraid of scum like you." he answers with a hanging head, his voice showing how clearly scared out of his wits he is.
"Yeah," the Joker tells him as if he hates to inform him, "you do Brian." his voice sobers and growls, "You really do." he speaks while gripping Pudge's hair and tilting his whimpering face back, "Huh? Yeah." he grunts like animal. He suddenly seems to change his mind and runs the back of his hand gently across Pudge's damp cheek. "Oh, shush shush shush shush shush-" he swallows a giggle and continues, slapping Pudge lightly on both cheeks. "So you think Batman's made Gotham a better place? Hm?"
The camera pans out to Pudge's head tucked defensively to his chest, only able to blubber softly to himself.
"Look at me." the Joker asks while Pudge continues to weep softly without moving. "Look. At. Me!" he then demands in the most vicious and terrifying voice I've ever heard, each word rattling my bones and sending goosebumps to explode out of every pore of my flesh. The intensity of his voice is that of a snarling beast with broken patience and guttural anger at being disobeyed. I can't imagine hearing that voice anywhere except right before death or in nightmares. My heart is racing and I'm still recovering when the Joker turns the camera onto himself.
"You see this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham," he says, his voice back to normal and varying in pitch. He continues slightly winded. "You want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Oh, and everyday he doesn't, people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word." he promises, his mouth uncomfortably close to the lens before bursting out in hysterical laughter.
I mute the television and get off the couch. I take deep breaths and walk around, checking every single lock on every single window and door in my home, all while "The Real Slim Shady" plays on repeat in my head. I pull down shades and draw curtains and check the locks again before sitting down. I sit in silence a moment before smiling at myself. I shake my head, my grin parting my lips for a laugh I can't hold back. I mean, this is pathetic. I'm as safe in here as I am prancing around the streets. It's just a matter of time and he already has a reason to want to kill me, not that he needs one. In fact, it might even be better for me to go out and get something done before I'm dead, or at least find something enjoyable.
I could get drunk, but that feels so trite. Plus, I want to remember my last amount of time alive. I return the volume to the television, hoping to find some sort of inspiration. Infomercial, infomercial, infomercial- ugh, this is pointless. I cycle back to the news just in time to hear of Harvey Dent's fundraiser hosted by billionaire Bruce Wayne. That's promising. Free food and fine clothes? Why the hell not? I'll have to steal something nice; my closet is lacking for such an event. I could go now, but chances are I won't be able to get away with it with so many witnesses.
I'm a dead woman walking and the difference between dying tonight or tomorrow night is very little. The alternative is staying locked in my apartment for another couple days; I wouldn't mind experiencing something for a change. It's funny how different I feel, how fearless I am now. Maybe my encounter with the Joker isn't all bad. I feel more alive than ever.
Thanks for reading and pretty pretty please review if you liked or disliked anything. 3
