Over The Mirror
Joker's daughter looked at the mirror on the back of the door.
Why do I not look like my dad? she wondered. Maybe if I did, I wouldn't be doing something like this.
She had not received her father's crazy red hair. Her hair was long and glossy, a brown made from the deepest hues of the earth, for she was an earth child, grounded and somewhat realistic. Her hair was like her mother's, Joker used to say. She was a spitting image of her, he had told her as she grew up. What had scared her from a fear to hate of her father was that sentence. That she looked like her mother.
It freaked her out to no end, especially after what had happened to her mother.
Joker had many whores during the little time when he was rich, well-known, and not in jail, as most of the evil arch-nemesis people tend to do.
One time, as he told her, they forgot to use protection, because in the mind of the Joker, there is no such thing as children except for manipulation, so protection and having no children did not connect in his mind. Maybe Anne, her mom, had been a little too drunk to remember.
Whatever and whomever was to fault, Anne was gone from Joker's life for three years while Joker was in jail. She came back from hiding once, to dump their two-year-old daughter on him, and left him To go right back into the arms of Bruce Wayne, multi-millionaire.
Her abandonment of him never stood well with Joker. But he forgot Anne for his daughter, a bubbly two-year-old who's intelligence surprised him. Her tiny fingers and toes fascinated him around every turn, as he learned to love from a little child who never knew how not to.
His cell mates teased him about his newfound lover, until they too fell under the spell of the gurgling child. Joker received the best food for his daughter, and cared for her more than himself. He swore to teach her everything he ever knew, to make her his heir. That would be his biggest mistake, and his downfall.
When Joker escaped with her baby from jail, Anne tracked him down. She talked to everyone, high and low people. They told Anne what they could. She called in her debts and pulled strings everywhere to follow her baby's daddy as he raced away from her.
This was unknown to the police, of course. No one but a hardened criminal like Anne could manage to track the Joker down.
Eventually, she found him. Where, it is not important. What was more important was that Anne's contacts had been fully truthful to her—but had also been fully truthful to their other boss, Joker. They tipped him off, so he knew of her progress, and was prepared to meet her.
Coincidently a mirror quite like the one in front of his daughter in the present had smashed over Anne's head while they had fought. She would have won if he hadn't cheated like that. But that was Joker's way.
When she first entered, it was by stealth through the back door, the only one she knew wouldn't creak. Joker was a seasoned criminal, and criminals always needed a creak-less back door to escape through. That would always be the only one not guarded.
Joker's goons fought against her, not that they had any chance. She had been Joker's number one girl for a reason. The large shouldered, six-feet tall men stood their ground against her petite 4' 11" frame for about two minutes before she had completely finished them off. It wasn't long, but it gave Joker time to run to his special room, the one with mirrors reflecting back on the runner, causing anyone in the room to slow down, less they would run into a mirror.
Anne tracked him to the room, and opened the door. She crouched as she moved; watching and waiting.
All Joker had to do was walk to where she could see him. She had come at him with her club and raised it up to beat him down. Her anger got the better of her serene demeanor, and she yelled "I want to see my daughter!" This break from her natural, calm and in control self was what Joker was waiting for.
He grabbed her bat from behind to stop her from beating him with it.
He slowly stood up, while holding his foot to Anne's neck at the same time. It was unfortunate for Anne that the past few years were probably the only years of his life he had ever worked out. Being cooped up with only a baby for entertainment, he had used the gym, and had become slightly more muscular.
He was strong enough to have torn the bat from her hands, and now he used it to smash up her face. Her jaw bones broke, she looked up at him from the ground and into the face of her former lover.
Smiling, as usual, he blew her a kiss.
"Good-bye, Anne." He walked behind the mirrors and pushed them on top of her—a perfect trap.
He had killed his baby's mother. That baby who, at the moment, was staring at a mirror.
"You killed her, Dad. I will make your life a living hell," she swore. She threw a final dart at her father's picture which was hanging on the wall, and left her room.
A/N: I want to thank all of you who reviewed before. I was looking at my other fic I'm currently working on—Eyes—and I realized that I had another story where people had expressed interest, so why SHOULDN'T I put something up? See, initially this story had nothing. Nada. Nun. What happened? Reviews.
…..I'm feeling rather sentimental today.
A/N 2: I also just realized I should probably change the rating. This chapter was kind of... well, dark. And it's only going to get darker.