AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thanks to the super kind and amazing blueberrycrushcandle from Tumblr, who contacted me for help me in translate my ff in a proper english language.

WARNINGS:

This story is a very dark view into one-sided Joker's obsession for the dark knight, Batman.
Please note that it will have strong themes just like violence, blood, gore, rape etc.

At the very start of every chapter, I will advise you with some tags.

Please, take them seriously, this is totally a "Dead Dove: Do Not Eat" story.

Thanks for your attention.

"Russian roulette is not the same without a gun

And baby, when it's love, if it's not rough, it isn't fun"

- Lady Gaga, "Poker Face"

TW: Violence, sadism, gun violence, death of minor character.

If, for some absurd reason, someone wanted to be part of the Clown Prince of Crime's team of henchmen, they must have known that there were various rules that had to be respected.

The Joker had never said anything about them and it had cost the lives of more men than he could remember.

Not that he cared, of course, although, it had become quite the nuisance, since he always needed new "staff" replacements.

Though, it's never difficult he supposes, what with all his capabilities in money laundering, seducing, and his famed peer pressure.

In a city like Gotham, the idea of working for a psychopath for some good money seemed to be a more than popular choice. Fathers of families with meagre income, drunks tired of living under bridges with the desire to have a home to turn to after dark, adolescent boys barely eighteen that are greedy for a profit to surpass their parents, the simple muscle men simmering with anger just below the surface in need of someone to take it all out on, and lets not forget the addicts, hyped up on speed and coked out of their minds.

The people who proposed to work under the Joker's leadership were numerically impressive, it was shocking as much as it was an ego boost just how many devoted themselves to him.

There was just this one thing, though, the little tid bit of himself that made working for him just the more terrifying.

He hated repeating himself.

He explained himself to one group of henchmen, and if the others didn't get the memo, well, it was that groups fault for not spreading the information to everyone else.

For the new comers, they were instructed to wait inside the main hall silently, as Harley Quinn would come by to carefully and meticulously inspect each and every one.

The horror stories containing the ones she found secret wires on still roam around Amusment Mile today.

The snitch had been taken prisoner and tortured for seven days straight until the Joker got bored and bashed his skull in, the whole ordeal being recorded and sent off in a nicely wrapped present to the GCPD building.

It sent the message, after that no one had dared enter with a wire or any other secret intentions.

They knew how it would end.

The Clown Prince of Crime had his dramatic entrance, the bright suit, the hysterical laughter, the glitz and glam, but now it was time to get to work. For the first five minutes he remained silent, watching, testing, waiting for any of them to question him.

When non did however, he made a move towards a near by gun.

This next part is where the real fun began, if any one of these men made a break for it or screamed like a little girl, they were dead. If they remained in place without shaking or becoming visually fearful, the were hired.

Simple as.

With the precison of Deadshot, the Joker shot the first man in line, a tall brunette looking uncertain by the silence.

His eyes bulged as he desperately gargled over the newfound hole in his throat.

Blood dribbled onto the hardwood floors as he fell to his knees, eventually toplling over onto his side.

Another man, another brunette went to reach over to him, only to be shot roughly where one of his kidneys would be.

The rest of the men pointently ignored what was going on in favour of staring at the wall behind the clown.

The rest of the trial would go seamlessly, of course with the Joker's little comments and slights being made about the men writhing on the floor, leaving himself gasping for breath at his own jokes.

Soon enough, the newest members of his own little clan spread out in twos, guarding his hideout and quietly discussing what they think they shouldn't do to piss of their boss.

He felt a cruel smile take over his face, he didn't have to explain himself once.

First Rule: Violence was always allowed.

Not excessively, because that was something only the Joker got to take full pleasure in, the final hit, the deaths. Punching them though, they had full rain over, whether the hostages were making a scene or not they would be punched, slapped, kicked, you name it. Some would call it unessacery violence, the henchmen had come to know it as stress relief. After all, who said it would be easy working under that sadist. On the plus side they knew Joker wouldn't care if they decided to take out some pent up anger on someone, whether it was a fourty six year old man or a kid that had just turned ten.

Second Rule: The boss doesn't accept "No".

Never, of any kind.

If the Jokers order is to shoot, you shoot.

Kill a child? Someone elderly? Even a woman carrying someones baby? A pregnant one?

You do it.

There aren't any second chances if you disobey.

Even if it's something so humiliating as licking the very floor his mud caked shoes just walked across, act like you've never heard the word 'disobey' before.

Besides, what's licking to floor compared to an act of torture the Joker could do.

Third Rule: Don't mention Batman.

Never talk about Batman.

Don't even mention the animal kind.

Those who have thrown insults, heatedly ranted about him in the dark, or dared to plan his death, have all long disappeared.

Dead themselves most likely.

What stopped everyone from talking about Batman again was the incident with Harley just a few months ago.

She had captured him, wanted to take him out like most criminals did, unfortunately it wasn't long before word caught on to the Joker, he'd marched into the room and kicked Harley out via the fifth floor window. She was in intensive care for weeks with broken bones, a split lip and a severe concussion. For all that the point was made very clear, Batman was the Jokers and his alone.

Harley was known as his devoted 'girlfriend' though, even if he only kept her around for fun, he must have cared about her in some deranged way. The others didn't matter to him. Not at all. They knew this through Paulie.

Everyone remembered Paulie.

Before Harley joined the criminal world, even before the Bat existed there was Paulie.

The quiet type, stern and serious, and if not for his bulging muscles you wouldn't think he'd be as useful as he once was. Rumors were that he'd been there since day one.

Hundreds of stories about his death spread through Amusment Mile and beyond into the heart of Gotham, moslty including Paulie attempting something physical with the young psychiatrist when she had first arrived.

Paulie stood unloading a wooden box containing various grenades and bombs hidden under Gothams main bridge. The Joker stood behind him, eyes following the clouds rolling over the midnight sky.

"Boss...I was wondering..."

His voice cut the heavy silence that engulfed all the surrounding henchmen. The Joker tilted his head towards his general direction, letting him know he was listening.

"Why all this?"

The other men were just about to put down more of the same boxes when a sudden terrifying laugh made them instantly freeze on the spot.

"For the show, Paulie-boy, what else? Don't you remember our little plan?"

When Paulie turned to face him properly, the clown had his purple clad hands outstretched towards the blackened sky.

"Listen closely now, you know how I hate to repeat myself, we strap these explosives here to the boat over there, then when Batman arrives we-"

"No, I-I mean, why? Why are we doin' this if there won't be, uh, any kind of gain from it?"

Interrupting the Joker was bad enough, however the further implications had the clown snarling. His hands dropped down to his sides just as fast as his smile had vanished. For a few seconds everything remained still, no one moved apart from the Jokers coat tails flapping in the wind. The tension grew too, thick and almost unbearably tight making it hard to breath despite the chilled gust of air that kept making its way under the bridge.

"Paulie, dude..."

One of the colleagues closest to the big man whispered, tempted to slap Paulie on his arm for being so stupid, he had been there the longest out of all of them, he should know that you don't interrupt the Joker, let alone question him. Yet, he continued.

"We could, y'know, rob banks, make a lot of money, why are we wastin' time chasin' some guy in a rat-bat suit? We could-"

BANG!

Before anyone could register what just happened, Paulie was slowly sinking in the sea.

The Joker returned his now smoking gun to his pocket, his pale face gleaming with seething rage in the moonlight.

That's the tale of how the Jokers most loyal servent ended up, floating at the bottom of the ocean.

"You don't discuss Batman with the Joker."

He had quietly explained to Paulie's replacement. Johnny's eyes were sticken with fear and perhaps regret for agreeing to work here.

"Everyone knows that. Say the wrong thing and you swim with the fishes, with a stomach full of lead.

Paulie should'a known better."

Notes

- Harley's incident is a reference to the comic "Mad Love", written and drawn by the great Bruce Timm, who even created Harley Quinn character.

Even the "Batman The Animated Series" have an adaptation of this work, the episode is called, of course, "Mad Love".

- Paulie's story is referred to a scene in "Batman Arkham City" videogame.

At this link you can look at some screenshoots of it, published by a tumblr's post/156192465183/why-was-he-wasting-all-his-time-on-batman-really