Chapter 1: Wrong Turn
The drip of the faulty pipes at the far end of my room were driving me nuts. The headphones weren't working. I needed ear plugs. Laying on my bed, my feet hanging out the window to the fire escape, I was polishing my stolen pistol, trying to think positively. This is temporary, the rent was low, I needed to keep my head down.
Gotham was dark, cold and windy. An autumn shower rolled in that painted the buildings with a stark heaviness. It made me sleepy. I wished I could go out for some real fresh air, but I couldn't chance it. Too many creeps, too many eyes watching.
The daughter of a mob boss, a run away? Who would have thought. Family was such a foreign concept. None of my remaining relatives had an empathetic bone in their body. After their stunt with Jonathan Crane and the fear gas, I was out.
My father wanted me to become like him. A schemer, a crook, a killer, void of emotion and fueled by a lust for power. For awhile I listened and learned. I figured out how the business worked from the sidelines, not wanting to get my hands dirty. I was young and naive. Slowly it became more than that, and I felt myself becoming something I never wanted to be.
More than anything I yearned to be more like my mother. I had only known for a short period of time. She had been a light to my life. I suppose that's why my father fell for her. But he was in Arkham Asylum rotting away... and my mother was dead. There was nothing left for me in Gotham.
It had been a few months since I ran away. Batman was dead. I had no idea how many of my father's men were left and what the state of the organization was, but I had the Joker to thank for that. He had thrown a wrench in the machine, sending the whole business into a downward spiral. But now with Batman gone, the GCPD back in control and the criminals behind bars, who knew what would happen next. I needed to be careful. Whoever was left, I was certain they wouldn't stop looking for me.
I looked over at my paintings in the corner of the small bedroom I rented- half finished and lit by candlelight. I sighed. I didn't really have any inspiration lately. The neighbors upstairs were always yelling and pounding on the floor. The dripping pipes made it unbearable. Swinging my feet onto the floor I got up and took my jacket off the bedroom door. I was so restless. I needed to go for a walk around the building at least.
Not having inspected it much before, I realized it was a big, drafty place. Definitely not up to code. I shivered as wind and droplets of rain pelted me through a broken window pane. This place could definitely inspire some horror movies. I traced a dusty green railing with my hand, walking slowly up rotting stairs. It reminded me of my childhood home… touching the railing as my mother led me upstairs to read me my bedtime stories.
Walking up flights and flights of stairs, I suddenly realised how tall this apartment complex stories at least? My curiosity at the thought got the better of me, so up I went.
I was slightly out of breath as I reached the top floor. As old as it was, the top floor's charm was still apparent after all the years of decay. Perhaps back in the early days of Gotham, this has been a swanky hotel or a flat for a rich aristocrat. I thought about the history of this place, wondering perhaps if my father had ever been here as well… I shook the thought away.
Walking down to the end of the hallway, I could hear tenants making a fair amount of noise from a suite behind me. I suppose that's what extra money gets you - for freedom to do whatever the hell you wanted. Who knew what went on in these decrepit rooms. All my years lurking in the shadow of my father had robbed me of much of my optimism.
At the end of the hallway, there was a door labeled "rooftop entrance". Ignoring the yellow caution tape plastered across the door, and twisted the door handle. It opened and a gust of cool air came rushing into the hallway. I tucked my long brown hair into my jacket, throwing my hood over my head. Walking up the final set of stairs towards the roof I could see the outer door was slightly ajar, letting in crisp cool air from the outside.
Already feeling relief, I tried to push the door open to the outside. Nothing. The rust must have cemented the door in place. I exhaled and took a few steps back. It reminded me of how trapped I had felt for all those years. I wanted to be free from the shackles of my past. The thoughts of my father, of the pain and humiliation inflicted by him and the mob fueled me as I spun around to kick the door with as much energy as I could muster.
It budged. I kicked again. A little more. After a few more kicks, I used my hands to push the door open. My first mistake.
As the door broke from the hinges and onto the ground, I cursed as I fell with it. I felt my jeans tear open on debris from decades of rooftop dilapidation. Slowly regaining my composure, I pushed my dark brown bangs from my eyes and assessed myself. My jacket was covered in dirt. I must have cut myself as well because my hand and knee were bleeding.
"Smart, Lucy." I said aloud, standing up to hold my palms up to the rain. The irony of running away only to die from lockjaw or some infection I get from an old roof in the narrows. Despite how much it stung, I held my palms out into the freezing rain and felt a slight sense of relief. Being outside in the open air felt good and I could see more of the skyline of the city than I was used to. Truthfully, I was going to miss the familiar look of Gotham. This skyline meant home. I looked at it and imagined what it must be like living life in one of those tall buildings, not sulking away in the shadows of the narrows. Maybe in another life, I thought, but for now I needed to get out of this city as soon as I deemed it safe.
...Then I heard it. A cracking sound.
Looking down I saw rotting wood sinking deeper into the rooftop. As it creaked, I could feel the floor giving out from under me.
"Oh no… no, no, no, no.."
I had no time to run as the rooftop collapsed.
It felt like I was falling forever, but finally I crashed down onto a hardwood floor. Dazed, I was surprised I was still conscious. The top floor was usually the one with the highest ceilings. Groaning, I realized I wasn't the only person in the room. As rain poured in from above me, I saw a few figures shadowed by a bunch of chairs and tables, walls lined with guns and tough looking men staring me down, almost dumbstruck.
They stared at me as I tried to lift myself up. I had fallen into a den of sorts. An illegal Business I was sure. Some of the men grabbed their guns, but in no way did I look dangerous.
A low and raspy voice sounded from another room. I was trying my hardest to make the room stop spinning. The men were beginning to gather around me. By now I couldn't tell if there were 8 or 16.
I'm seconds they were pushed aside by a man dressed differently from the rest. I could make out a purple suit and what could only be described as messy clown makeup. My stomach lurched. It couldn't be…
"Now… what have we here-ah."said the voice excitedly. The clacking of dress shoes came closer and I felt the rain stop slightly as he quickly squatted to my level. "A little early for Christma.." I wasn't sure is he was talking at my or to himself.
"Yeah boss, uhh… this broad uh- just fell from…." he pointed towards the gaping hole. I wasn't sure if my shivering was caused by fear or the frigid air.
He turned my half conscious face towards his with a cold, gloved hand. I forced myself to look at him, just to make sure. I was him. The Joker. His scarred face gave me a curious lookover as he smacked his tongue habitually against his scars.
I tried to speak but was cut off. "Shh shh shhh… beautiful. I'm not gunna hurt yah." He grabbed a firstfill of my hair, yanking me closer towards him as I yelped in surprise.
"Hey… ahh. Boss" said another from beside him. "That's Falcone's daughter."
My heart sank. I'm screwed, I thought. How did they know?
I turned to see another familiar face. Marco. He had been a hitman hired by my father at one point. I never like him. He always gave me uncomfortable looks.
The Joker, still holding my face now leaned in closer. His dark eyes met mine. It tried focusing on them. There was a human in that form, but it was hard to see through the stage paint. How did he escape Arkham? It hadn't been on the news.
"Falcone.. Falcone…" He said, prendting to pinpoint where he knew the name. It must have dawned on him. "Ah, Yes! Nice guy, good company…brains are a little scrambled though " he said, straight faced and sucking on his scared check. I couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. Had he seen my father in Arkham?
"Hey" he said, shaking me. "Wake up."
I shook my head. Trying to speak I realized I did in fact have a concussion. My head was in splitting pain and I felt a surge of nausea arise from my stomach.
Suddenly I wasn't on the floor anymore. The Joker had effortlessly picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder. He smelt like rain and gunpowder… but he was warm, and for a split second that comforted me.
"An early Christmas indeed " He said in a low growl. I shivered again.
He led me into a spare room and plopped me down on an unfurnished mattress.
Saying something unintelligible to a man in the hallway, the man responded with a nod. Cocking his gun and closing the door, I was now alone with him, The Joker. What luck that I had been living only floors below their hideout. With all the slime that came in and out of these apartment buildings doors, I had been oblivious. Just like the rest of Gotham.
"Now, now, where were we?" He said, flipping open a switchblade he had taken out of his suit pocket. Pulling up a chair next to me, he began playing with the blade. I was trying not to pass out. I felt a few hard slaps on my face from a cold metallic object that immediately jolted me back to reality.
"I can't really have a conversation with you if you're sleeping-ah," he said, his head drawing closer to mine. He was sucking on the scar again and seemed to be deep in thought. I slowly began to sit up to keep myself conscious. .
"Now tell me, sweetheart-ah", his voice was eerily penetrating, hard to disassociate from fear. "What were we doing up on the roof? Lost your reindeer?" He said jokingly without a trace of a smile on his face… besides the obvious scars. I think I had forgotten to breathe. He was so close.
"I was just looking around.." I realized how unconvincing I was sounding.
I jumped as he stood up abruptly, still playing with his knife and slowly began to pace back and forth. "The daughter of Carmine Falcone, the EX head honcho of the MOB just happened upon our now not-so-hidden anymore hideout? How convenient for you and the mob". Again, he quickly went from standing to sitting beside me. The blade was in my face, tracing the side of my cheek. I was shaking. I couldn't tell if it was because of the cold or my courage abandoning me, I thought to myself about the scenario. He was right. To run into The Joker, now an escapee from Arkham, was an unfortunately convenient move on the Mob's part. It would look like a power move.
I laughed a little at the scenario despite the danger I was in, which made him even more curious. Like a cat who had spotted a mouse across the corner of the room. For the Joker, he wasn't very Jolly. Quite the opposite.
"I'm not a spy… I ran away." Why was I telling him this? Like it mattered... I knew if I didn't think of something quick I'd be rat bait.
The knife was still grazing my face. He was processing the information.
"A Falcone runaway" He repeated, inspecting my disheveled state. Second hand clothes, blood dripping from my hands, and acrylic paint splotches covering my ripped jeans. In seconds he was back in my face with the switchblade.
"Couldn't handle the pressure?" He said, digging the knife into my cheek. I flinched and instinctively smacked the knife away from my face. I regretted the motion immediately. His demeanor flipped on a dime, the Joker's hands now around my neck, forcing me against the wall. I fought against him, wheezing for air.
"Ah tah-tah-tah a little fight in you…" he said, licking his bottom lip.
"If you let me go" I managed to whisper, "I promise I'll never bother you again. I'm- I'm leaving Gotham.."
He shook his head at me.
"Not anymore."
With the lack of oxygen, I was starting to black out. He was enjoying this.
Then something unexpected happened. Something that hadn't happened to me since childhood. Something that would change me indefinitely.
Struggling against him, I gripped the skin of his arm beneath his gloved hand. I was slick with sweat and rain. In an instant I was somewhere else. As a jolt of remembrance ran through me, I was seeing a memory from long ago that wasn't mine.
A blurry living room… blood. Curdling screams.
JACK, why Jack.. WHY?
It was a woman's voice. Then silence
I felt myself laughing.
He quickly removed his hand from my neck and I gasped for air. Leaning against the wall, I could feel my head drooping. I was going to pass out.
He didn't come close to me again. He only stared at me in silence, eventually shaking a finger at me almost as if to scold me.. After a few seconds, he abruptly left the room. The door slammed behind him. What the fuck had just happened? What had I just seen? This couldn't be happening. Not tonight.
I fought the urge to sleep. I needed to get out of there. Looking around the tiny room, there was one small window towards the corner that separated me from the outside world. If I could get it open I might be able to slip out of it and escape. Save my life. I just wasn't sure where it would lead to… but better to take my chances.
I took a deep breath and tried to stabilize myself. Adrenaline kicked in. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel like blood rushing to my head. I had no idea when he'd be back. Was he going to kill me? A secret from my past was surfacing at the most inconvenient time. I had glimpsed a memory of his past. Focus Lucy, focus. I thought.
I sat up and softly planted my feet on the ground. When I was steady, I walked drowsily towards the small window. I did my best to quietly open it, but the deterioration of the wood had warped the window frame. It was going to take some strength, but with every burst of energy I was seeing doubles and triples of the world.
Footsteps were coming closer to the room so I gave the window one last push before giving up. With the rest of my energy, I closed my eyes and pushed upwards. I sighed in relief as it opened enough for me to slip out. Thankfully I was small and slim.
The window was right above the fire escape, so I nudged myself outside into the pouring rain and jumped onto the iron balcony below me. In a moment's time I could hear yells from above and I knew it was time to start moving. Making my way down the firescape, I clung to the rails and made my way down as fast as I could. On the last flight of stairs, I slipped.
Doing my best to hold in a scream as my bruised body tumbled downward, I settled at the bottom. This was not turning out to be a good day. Taking deep breaths I used my arms to haul my body into my room and onto my bed. I quickly closed my window, locked it and pulled down the blinds. I let out a cry of relief, but it was short lived.
I wasn't alone.
"Hi" said a voice from the chair adjacent to my bed. He was holding my pistol. My only chance at self defense.
"Please don't kill me-" I began.
"Listen" he began, setting the gun down on the floor and raising his hands up in a motion of surrender. "I'm not gonna hurt yah."
I was breathing loudly, in disbelief.
"I want to help you out of your ah… predicament," he continued. I shook my head in surprise.
"...Why?"
"Listen… Ms. uhhh" he gestured a hand toward me
"Lucy."
"Ah, Lucy. Lucky Lucy…" he surveyed my room. "I'd introduced myself, but you already know who I am."
My eyes widened, I had said his name upstairs. Not his stage name, the Joker. I had said his real name. Jack. He leaned closer to me.
"You are a very unique-ah individual. I'll give you that." he said, looking at me with piercing black eyes. "No wonder the mob is looking for your pretty face…But If you ever say that name again, I'll kill you." he growled.
I nodded to show that I understood him perfectly well. After a few seconds, he stood up like a giddy child and came to sit next to me. I flinched at the abruptness of the mood swings.
"Listen, Lucy, no one runs from the mob and lives to talk about it" he said, patting me on the back. I jumped. Looking down, I contemplated his words. Even if I did manage to leave Gotham, the mob had connections everywhere. He reached his hand out and turned my face towards his. He was very close, but I was becoming conditioned to the proximity. His eyes were seemingly less grotesque than the rest of his face. He pulled out a card from his suit pocket and handed it to me.
"What do you say we make a deal?"
I began to protest but he closed my hand around the card. It was nothing but a playing card of the joker.
"I have eyes and ears all over this city" he said, sucking again on the inside of his mouth. "Now, Luce, if you keep tonight our little secret I'll make sure the mob stays out of your hair. But, if you fib…" he said, squeezing his hand even harder around mine, " the mob will be the least of your problems... Capisce?" I winced, nodding. With that, he released my hand and stood up.
"We'll be in touch." With that he slammed the door and was gone. I sat in silence. It must have been 3 in the morning. I couldn't sleep after what had just happened, not at all.
x
