When Celine awoke, it was to a searing headache that felt like someone was sinking their nails into her brain stem.

"Ugh," she groaned.

Her vision wove in and out. Minutes passed before her surroundings were clear enough to absorb.

She was sprawled out on rotting floorboards in a boarded up, one-windowed room; wrists liberated of rope. Wherever she was didn't appear to have any sufficient airflow. She wiped away a sheen of sweat from her forehead. Fluorescent lights flickered weakly above her.

Why didn't he kill me?

Not that she wasn't grateful to still have her life intact, but everything hinted at her demise. She'd been at peace with it.

That she was still alive in this dim, stuffy room unnerved her. Had she really upset him so much that he elected to postpone her death and torture her first?

The handle to the only door leading in and out, suddenly began to rattle violently. A click sounded and a moment later, Joker swung it open. She didn't move from her sitting position as he sauntered in with a whistle. The purple long coat he'd been wearing earlier was missing, as were his gloves. His rolled up sleeves clung tight to his arms, hinting at sinewy, taut muscles beneath the fabric.

He could strangle a god damn grizzly bear with those things.

She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a chuckle.

"Celine, Celine, Celine," he greeted, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. "Not as good as Dion, but hey, it's a lot to live up to!"

She arched a brow.

"You listen to her?"

He seemed aghast, pressing a palm to his chest.

"Near...far...wherever you are," he belted with the tact of a deaf man, "I beeelieve that the heart does uh go on."

She didn't know whether to laugh or applaud him.

"Watcha think? And be honest."

Her lips wobbled.

"Don't quit your day job."

He erupted into a fit of giggles.

"No beating around the bush with you, eh?" he said, taking a few steps toward her. "Could use that in my men. Do you know how exhausting it gets being agreed with all...the...time?".

"No." She tilted her head. "Do you?"

"Ooh she's got jokes!" He clapped in rapid succession. "I wonder...does she also like games? Because I got one I'd like to play and the prize is...wait for it...your life!"

He rocked back and forth on his feet in light of this announcement.

"If you wanted me dead so badly, why didn't you do it at the church?"

"Because you were being no fun. And I uh didn't give ya much of a fair chance, did I?"

She didn't appear to have angered him, but he was threatening to kill her. Again. She doubted his logic was capable of being deciphered by anyone other than him.

Her eyes flicked to the door.

"You must have gotten your compadre back," she noted. "Is everyone else safe?"

"Mmm...as safe as this city allows them to be. I like to think I added a little...flavor to their existence. A little cha cha, a little rumba..."

His hips swayed, arms moving like a hula girl.

She couldn't keep her eyes off him, having never encountered anyone so...peculiar. His mannerisms were so utterly his own...so seamlessly erratic and resistant to expectation. There had to be more to him beneath the makeup, and yet, she didn't think this Joker persona he embodied was entirely disingenuous. His mannerisms weren't stolen, merely amplified from who he probably was. She almost wished GPD would throw him in a cage at the zoo instead of carting him off to Arkham. Homicidal tendencies aside, he was fascinating to observe.

"Watcha thinking?"

She was startled to see the distance he'd covered while she'd been lost in thought. A couple of feet at most separated them. He had crouched to sit on the balls of his feet, watching her intensely.

"You belong in a zoo."

She hadn't meant to tell the truth, but his gaze was penetrating and difficult to evade. She also got the feeling he was well-versed in knowing when he was being lied to. It's not like she could be in any deeper shit than she was now.

"Only if I'm in the apex predator exhibit," he replied, smirking at the idea. "I got a set of jaws and I am not afraid to use them."

He bared his teeth and snapped them twice at her before emitting a giggle.

The tension in her shoulders was just starting to disperse when he suddenly leaned forward and smacked her across the face. It was enough to topple her over onto her side, the outline of his hand imprinted on her cheek.

"What the hell?" she growled, glaring at him as she massaged her face. "What the hell was that for?"

"You called it yourself, sweets," he answered, teeming with delight. "Never lower your defenses around a predator. Doesn't tend to pan out, does it?"

Again, he snapped his jaws at her like a rabid wolf.

Her left foot shot out. Before he could think to close his legs, she nailed him directly in the groin, propelling him onto his back as he cupped himself. A few wheezes exited him, but laughter followed soon after.

"Likewise," she muttered, returning to a sitting position.

"Ooh Celine," he lamented, springing back into a crouch, "your death is going to be so, so satisfying."

She eyed him expectantly.

"Well...get to it then."

"And skip the foreplay?" He shook his head as if she were the crazy one. "Not. A. Chance. Usually I gotta get Batsy's attention to have this much fun."

At Batman's mention, Celine's eyes flicked back to the door. No doubt he was aware of Joker's string of kidnappings and that one hostage was missing. She more than welcomed his appearance right about now.

He blocked her view of the door with a graceful shuffle over.

"Aw, don't tell me you're thinking of leaving. The fun's not even begun!"

In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet. His right hand reached into his pants pocket and removed a silver switchblade that looked like it could easily inflict a mortal wound. Four deep little v-grooves were peppered evenly near the handle.

"This here's Sally," Joker introduced, kissing the weapon, smearing it with makeup in the process. "Sally, this here's Celine. Celine, Sally. Sally, Celine."

She was dismayed to find that some of his antics amused her. Then again, absurdism had always been one of her favorite philosophies on life. Joker was like a self-aware caricature on crack. She suspected this is what held her fear at bay. Though, she internally cautioned herself not to become too comfortable either. He was extremely dangerous. This couldn't be forgotten.

Seemingly picking up on this line of thought, Joker slid the blade in between two fingers and whipped it at her. Her eyes crinkled shut, only to open when no immediate pain overcame her. The blade was dug into the floorboards, directly in between her thighs, not even an inch away from her groin.

"Now this here-." He patted his opposite pants pocket and retrieved an exact replica of the switchblade between her legs. The only difference was this one gleamed with drying crimson. "-This is Jack. Jack, Celine. Celine, Jack."

He eyed Jack fondly, attempting to catch his reflection as one hand ran through his hair.

"Here's how the game works," he explained, tongue dabbing at his scars as his gaze fell to her. "You get Sally, I get Jack. Up to us how we use them. There is a winner and a loser. Winner gets to live, loser uh...doesn't. Easy peasy. Ready to play?"

She doubted she had a choice. With a resigned sigh, she dislodged the blade from between her legs and worked on standing.

Joker wasted no time soaring forward, arm extending like a determined fencer.

She stumbled back to avoid getting speared. He gave her a few seconds to steady herself before lunging forward again.

With crime being as high as it was in Gotham, Celine was no stranger to a self defense class or two. As a result, when Joker went for her shoulder, she managed to block his swipe and aim a swift kick at his chest. He stuttered a few steps back, but easily regained balance.

What ensued was a tango of give and take. It was clear Joker had had years of knife-fighting experience under his belt. No attempt at striking her was ever in the same spot, and he was nimble with his wrist movements and quick as an alley cat on his feet, always seeking to herd her into a corner of the room where her escape options were limited.

And escape is exactly what Celine tried to do. She understood this game's prize was her life, but anytime she attempted a swipe at him, he knocked it away nonchalantly, taking to cackling a few times afterward. As if to gloat at her inexperience and unimaginative moves.

He stooped low unexpectedly and as she went to defend her stomach, Jack sliced through the meaty flesh of her arm, instantly spewing a waterfall of red.

She choked back a sob and gritted her teeth, wishing to tend to the wound or at least impede its flow in some way. Instead, she opted to back-paddle, making sure to always be aware of the door. If need be, she wasn't against making a run for it. It was clear just how much amusement Joker was getting from this. And if there's anything she learned thus far it was that refusing to indulge him got under his skin the most.

"Mmm...still think peace and love can save the day?" he goaded, twiddling Jack's handle. "Virtuous as the sentiment is, this here...this is the way of the world. Eat or be eaten. Sooner ya adjust, sooner-."

She bolted towards his ribcage beneath the hand not clutching the blade. With a hasty, low spin, Celine jabbed Sally into his side. Two inches of the blade managed to sink through his layers of clothing and into his skin before she retracted it and staggered back, keeping the blade pointed at him.

Joker glanced down at the tear in his emerald vest, and then at the blood blooming through his manila dress shirt.

His eyes snapped up to her. All hints of playfulness were extinguished.

"You uh...you're gonna regret doing that."

Sweat cascaded down her back. Her shoulder-length hair was damp and glued to her face. Now that she actually managed to get some damage in, she felt a lot of her avoidance-based tactics desert her. The gravity of her situation was forcing her to tap into a more combative part of her that often lay dormant while mind and spirit ruled. Though a pacifist by nature, she understood the necessity of defending yourself when the moment came. As she learned at a young age, not everyone shared her heart.

That moment was now.

When Joker dove at her, she pivoted, blocking his last-minute attempt at slashing her chest. With a neck breaking speed, he tossed Jack from one hand to the other, rotating on his heels and sending a backhanded jab her way. She counteracted this move with a duck, blade sailing only centimeters above her hairline.

He's been holding back on me.

She had suspected as much when his initial moves were jovial and careless. It made her realize she needed to be crafty. To bide her time until the right moment came.

They circled each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. The floorboards continued absorbing their weeping wounds.

When Joker tossed his knife to the opposite hand, Celine took advantage. With a high-pitched wail that momentarily caught him off guard, she pounced. His weapon arm shot out, but she used her shortness to her advantage and easily side stepped the swipe. Twirling on her heels, she aimed with all her might for the side of his thigh.

Having recovered from her unorthodox screech, Joker shot out his leg and kneed her in the face hard enough to send her crashing onto her back and knock loose her weapon. Blood gushed from her nostrils and before she was able to gather her bearings, Joker had straddled her abdomen, capturing her wrists in one hand and forcing his leaking blade against her throat.

She thrusted her hips up in an attempt to push him off, but he was much heavier and by the excited giggle he released, guessed he enjoyed it.

"I uh win," he boasted, leaning down so close his hair ended up brushing across her cheeks. "I gotta admit ya have much more fight than I gave ya credit for. Got me a little uh...worked up."

He rolled his pelvis into her. Her eyes widened at feeling his stiff cock grind against her.

"Fucking wonderful," she groaned, averting his gaze as her face heated up.

"Care for a uh quickie before I get familiar with the inside of your esophagus?"

She knitted her brows and gave him a are you serious look.

He shrugged, licking at his scars.

"I'm not picky."

"Clearly," she muttered. "I'd rather fuck a broomstick."

"I ah can certainly have that arranged."

The longer he babbled, the more his grip slackened around her wrists. She didn't think twice.

With a lunge that caused his blade to break skin, she crashed her mouth against his. Joker froze at the assault, but parted his lips a second later, allowing her tongue to delve in to meet his.

Her blood and sweat mingled into their saliva as she deepened the kiss, dragging out of him a ragged groan. He was insistent on subduing her tongue, but she wasn't having it, taking to swirling hers around; just slow enough to give him the illusion of victory before darting away, forcing him to lean in closer and give chase. The moment he thought he had hers submitted, she languidly stroked the underside of his tongue before pulling away and offering a few soft nips to his bottom lip.

Joker immediately took the bait, releasing her wrists and tangling one hand into her short, silvery locks; the other dropping down to grasp and angle her chin to his liking. She couldn't suppress her grin. If there was one thing she didn't mind tooting her own horn about, it was that she could kiss like a motherfucker possessed. Life, thankfully, had been kind to her in that regard.

She brought her hands to his shoulders, fingers gripping onto the fabric of his vest. Just as he nipped back at her bottom lip, she pushed up with all the strength left in her and rolled them over; fueled by a spike in adrenaline.

Now, she straddled him, one hand attempting to pin his wrists down while the other snatched Sally and brought it to his throat. Jack had been discarded sometime prior to her gaining the upperhand.

"Oooh ahahaha," Joker shrieked, beaming up at her, face stained with her blood. "She's got tricks up her sleeve too!"

She was panting as the hand clutching Sally, shook.

"You better end it now," he added. "Because if you don't, I am going to slit open your throat and wear your blood as face paint."

"Charming," she commented, digging the blade in as a warning.

"Do it. You're not leaving this room alive otherwise."

She noticed he had stopped trying to break his wrists free, which would have been easy to do now as all adrenaline began to abandon her.

"Do it!" he demanded.

Does he really want to die?

His words seemed to imply this but one look in his eyes told a different story. He was intentionally provoking her. For what reason, she couldn't be sure. But she didn't want to play into his hands. It's how he maintained his power over others. Drag them down to his level and corner them into making decisions they otherwise wouldn't. Plus, she was exhausted. She didn't know how much blood she had lost, only that her vision was beginning to blur at the corners.

When in doubt weird them out.

She retracted Sally from his throat and instead, drove the blade through the bunched up sleeves of his wrists, nicking his skin in the process. All eight inches sunk into the floorboards, effectively restraining Joker to the floor.

He glanced up at what she'd done and tried to tug his wrists loose. They stayed put. For now.

Her hands skimmed down his sides, pausing just above his ribcage. They met each other's eyes, hers determined, his housing genuine confusion. Which she would never to admit to anyone, was sort of cute.

Her fingers pressed teasingly into his skin. His eyes widened.

"You-."

She started tickling him. And judging by the whoops of laughter filling up the room, Joker was extremely ticklish. His hips nearly bounced her up and down in an attempt to buck her off. Sally wriggled wildly in her position, working tirelessly at keeping him pinned in place. Tears leaked out of his eyes as she found a particularly...responsive spot in between where two of his ribs curved in, and another one just south of his left arm pit.

"Aahhaha hahaha haha yo- you're- you-."

She wasn't sure if the blood loss had made her temporarily lose it, but pretty soon her laughter joined his. He looked like a little boy in this moment, desperately attempting to evade the dreaded tickle monster. No fury, no apathy, no mockery. Joker howled and yelped and hollered at the sensations until his wrists finally broke free of Sally's hold.

She stopped immediately, hands dropping to his heaving chest.

"Celine, Celine, Celine," he practically sang, licking his lips, "you should have killed me when you had the chance because you are in for it now."

Gulping, she tried to scramble off him, but he was much quicker. One arm shot around her waist and rolled them back over so he was on top once more. She expected the worst and briefly chastised herself for not killing him when she had the chance. But just as quickly, she countered it with the reality of the situation: she had never killed anyone in her life and she wasn't going to be antagonized into it for his amusement.

Joker re-pinned her wrists with one hand and slipped his other hand beneath her t-shirt, skimming the skin with his nails before landing near her ribs.

Realization dawned on her.

"Don't you da-."

If she thought she had been relentless, it was nothing compared to Joker. His fingers sank into her skin with an unforgiving roughness, curling and prodding at her flesh until her body quivered and twisted, peels of laughter bouncing off the walls. He tickled her so hard it bordered on painful. Her hips wriggled violently beneath him. This action reintroduced her to his firm cock, which ground expertly against her each time she lifted her lower body.

Joker soaked in her responses, caught between laughing like a banshee and grunting after each dry hump.

She didn't want to resort to begging, but he was leaving her little choice.

"P-please," she gasped in between tears, "I-can't-please."

"You brought this on yourself sweets," he sang back, delighted to hear her pleads. "Say Joker is the best kisser in Gotham and I uh might consider stopping."

"Fuck that!" she yipped.

His fingers stopped, only to relocate to her other side. He renewed his assault, getting dangerously close to his own climax as she continued to struggle beneath him, a new set of agonized shrieks filling the room.

"Mmm," he moaned, hips jerking erratically, "Say it and I'll stop."

Her lungs burned from a lack of oxygen. The room spun as her head sunk to the floor with a thump.

"Please," she murmured, black spots appearing in her vision. "I can't-."

She nearly regained consciousness upon feeling a tongue at her throat. It took her a few seconds to realize he was lapping up the blood from the shallow cut she forced him to make. His hips continued to rock wildly against her until he finally exhaled a strangled groan.

Did he just get off to this?

This was her final thought as darkness overcame her.

Joker dropped his weight onto her, panting heavily against her neck. His fingers halted their assault, nails content to lazily skim over her skin. He released her wrists and gripped her waist, thumb stroking her hip bone. He eyed the cut he had slobbered all over, cock twitching as more cum trickled out.

"Aren't you just full of surprises?" he mumbled against her.

This chapter was inspired by the indie video game First Person Lover, where bullets in guns are replaced with bubbled hearts and every time you shoot a bad person with the hearts, they become less bad until they're good again. If only real life was that simple, eh?

The tickling scene was one of my favorite things to write in a long time. I like to think, even if he doesn't know it yet, that Joker has finally met his match. Granted, they're on at the very opposite sides of the spectrum as far as beliefs go, but what bonds them is their understanding of the world and their decision to surrender to its unpredictability, even indulging in it themselves. Whereas Joker is fueled by a thirst for anarchy and chaos, Celine is fueled by mercy and a deep sense of benevolence. They really are writing themselves and I can't wait to see how they choose to interact.