Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC. The Joker, John Blake, and Batman belong to DC Comics.

Chapter Nine.


"A little fight in you...I like that."

June 10th.

It was on the seventh day that Charlotte took action. The previous day, she'd asked Chuckles to fetch her some arts and crafts supplies - claiming she was in an artsy mood. Not more than thirty minutes had passed before a cardboard box filled with art supplies ended up at her door. Charlotte didn't care about the endless colors of paint she'd received, or even the six different types of brushes.

She did, however, care greatly about the pair of shiny, sharp scissors that greeted her at the bottom of the box. That alone was her ticket out of the God awful place. The scissors hadn't been the only part of the plan. No, Charlotte had also made herself get acquainted with the gullible idiot who delivered her the goods. It was because of Chuckles that she now knew that about half of the goons would be out with the Joker the day her plan was set to commence. After that awful meeting with the Joker, Charlotte had decided that fooling Chuckles would be her best bet at getting out. Charlotte smiled to herself as she dumped the art supplies onto the carpet, feeling extra confident and also relieved that she wouldn't have to come up with another plan. Stupid Chuckles.

Stupid, stupid Chuckles.

All it took was a few kind words and the dumb masked fool already sort of trusted her.

Nearly fifteen minutes after delivering the girl her goods, Chuckles found himself being called back.

"Chuckles?" Charlotte called out, trying her best to seem calm. One emotional slip and she'd be screwed. The man wasn't that dumb.

"Miss?" Chuckles answered, peeking his masked head into the girl's room. Charlotte was crouched on the carpet, carefully studying the canvas she'd been painting. From what Chuckles would see, it was nothing but random splashes of color on the canvas. Not really a work of art, in his opinion, but what did he know?

"Think you could give me your opinion on something? I don't know what color to use next?" Charlotte asked, not looking at Chuckles for fear that he would see the plan hidden in her eyes. Far from his view, Charlotte gripped the scissors tightly beneath her leg. "You can come in, you know. I don't bite." Charlotte called out softly, as if speaking to a child. She didn't have much practice, but she hoped batting her eyelashes a bit helped. As she'd hoped, Chuckles let himself in after a small pause. Charlotte didn't see the unsure look beneath his mask melt away. She didn't need to.

"See? That spot there, it's missing something, isn't it?" Charlotte asked, voice beginning to tremble excitedly as she glanced towards the half open door. In just a few minutes, she'd be out of this Hell. Chuckles leaned down slightly, hands resting on his knees as he absorbed the painting.

"It's nice, Miss. Uh, I dunno, maybe a little green?" He suggested.

Charlotte had never moved so fast in her life. The small pause after Chuckles' sentence was all she needed. Pretending to reach for more paint, Charlotte whipped around and jammed the sharp end of the scissors into the flesh of the young man's shoulder. He cried out it pain as Charlotte jabbed them even deeper, securing them before hauling herself up and grabbing her rucksack. Chuckles made a weak grab at her while his other hand held his wound, and managed to grab the end of her jeans. Without hesitation, Charlotte kneed him, sending his face back with a crack before bounding out of the room.

It all seemed to happen so fast. She could hear Chuckles screaming bloody murder as she zoomed down the hallway. Charlotte's heart was hammering against her chest so violently it hurt. She made the turn that would take her to the exit stairwell she'd seen a few goons using during the week. The bright red exit sign above the door seemed to pulse as she neared it, and Charlotte didn't know if it was because she was quickly running out of breath. The hallway seemed unending, but she couldn't stop now, she wouldn't! Charlotte heard the commotion of noisy goons coming up the main stairway. She was seconds away from having no time left.

Charlotte's trembling fingers hit the cold metal of the door handle with such force her knuckles cracked, and the feeling was beautiful. She put her last breathe into the biggest push of her life, and...

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing happened.

The hopeful smile that had risen on Charlotte's face sank instantly as she realized she was pushing on a locked door. Charlotte released the door handle with a pitiful wail. How could she have been so stupid, she thought, backing away from the door. The goons voices were closer than ever, and it wasn't long until she felt their hands on her. Charlotte seemed electrified at the touch, and the moment the palms touched her arms she fought back. Charlotte struggled valiantly...until she realized that it wasn't flesh against her skin...but leathery gloves.

"Oh, Char. And I was just beginning to think you were enjoying your stay here." The Joker said huskily, voice nearly boiling with anger. He positioned himself behind Charlotte, locking her heaving body against his. The Joker turned her roughly. Charlotte felt her ankle twist against the carpet. She didn't see anything yet - Charlotte's body slammed against the door she'd tried to escape from seconds ago, spine curling uncomfortably against the door handle. The Joker's face was so close to her's that she didn't know where to look.

Stupidstupidstupidyou'resostupid - !

"Going somewhere?" The scars growled inches away from her mouth. The Joker's warm breath ghosted over her upper lip and traveled up her nose - he smelled like tobacco and mint. Charlotte screamed loudly as the gloves assaulted her shoulders roughly. However, Charlotte was still free from the elbow down, and didn't hesitate in taking advantage of that. Her right hand swiped the Joker's face as roughly as she could, her fingernails scraping at the bumpy painted scars. She smiled victoriously as she struggled, knowing that had to hurt. Charlotte relished at the feeling imprinted on her fingertips by his marks, knowing that she had to be one of the first people to touch the famous scars.

Charlotte's body went limp, and not from her own doing. The Joker had stopped advancing on her, therefore causing her to stop fighting back. The Joker held her firmly against the door, adding pressure on her body as his dark eyes blazed into hers. There were no thoughts from either of them, only stifled breaths. A small groan emitted from the Joker, and if Charlotte had even breathed any louder she wouldn't have heard it. Her blue eyes scanned his. It was impossible to knee him in the groin, even as badly as she wanted to. He was standing in between her legs.

Wordlessly, the connection broke, and Charlotte found herself being dragged before she could even blink. She screamed viciously as the rough carpet sheared away at the exposed skin of her back - her shirt had lifted up against the friction.

"Oh shush, Doll, we're only going downstairs!" The Joker growled gleefully, hoisting Charlotte's weight as he dragged her down the stairs, moving backwards. Charlotte didn't yell out the obscenities in her head, she was too busy simply screaming from the pain. Her hands gripped firmly onto the Joker's biceps as he pulled her weight. Kicking was no use, one of her shoe's had fallen off and it only made more skin scrape against the ground.

Charlotte's head hit the ground for a moment, if that. After reaching the bottom of the stairs, the Joker's hoisted Charlotte up before plopping her down onto a chair. The stares of nearly a hundred goons penetrated the dilapidated girl slouching against the office chair, completely out of breath. Charlotte wanted to scream more, she wanted fire to rise out of her throat and sear everyone in the room to a crisp...but none of those things happened. The only thing she could do was sit in that damned chair and take more chest shattering breaths. Charlotte somehow found a way to repress her urge to sob - she was too filled with a horrible mix of anger and shame to even produce tears.

"Ah, Ladies and Gentlemen! Or should I say, Lady and Gentlemen." Joker announced loudly, gaining every single goons attention in less than a second. He quickly turned and pulled Char's chair into the center of the large room. "This lovely wonder is Charlotte, our near escapee. She's been staying with us for a few days, but apparently our services to her have proven to be, ah, unsatisfactory." The Joker stated calmly, eyes rolling up to watch the high ceiling fan. His tongue chased his inner cheek wildly for a moment. His pause wasn't to think - but to contain his rage. If he lost control now...there would be no one left breathing in the room besides himself.

"I'm sure you're all, uh, disappointed to hear that, hm? I know Char is. So...who was assigned to care to our dazzling guest during her stay?" The Joker asked the crowd, gripping Charlotte's sore shoulders. She flinched violently, making him smirk. "I'd like a word with them."

The crowd of clown-faced men seemed to part as Chuckles was dragged towards the Joker, shaky hand still covering his wound. The Joker already knew he'd assigned the idiot to the job - he just wanted to make a show. He didn't have long either, Chuckles was as pale as a corpse, his blood trailing behind him like a long veil. Charlotte looked up through her hair to see Chuckles standing in front of the Joker. He looked positively terrible. Even his dark shirt couldn't hide the amount of blood he was losing, and a blotchy purple bruise was starting to form on his neck where Charlotte had kicked him. The pair of scissors were still lodged in his shoulder.

Charlotte's stomach twinged uncomfortably as she watched his mask get ripped off. Chuckles was actually quite handsome, with a sharp jawline and a head of fiery red hair. The thing that disturbed Charlotte the most was that he was so young. He couldn't have been any older than twenty-one, and it made Charlotte wonder if the Joker had any younger recruits. Charlotte's watery eyes left the young man's sweaty and bruised face and traveled up the length of the Joker's body. If she didn't know any better, Charlotte would've thought he was trembling from rage. The Joker's gloved hands gripped Chuckle's mask tightly, making the rubber squeak.

"Care to explain yourself?" The Joker asked calmly, tracing the boy's terrified expression.

"Boss, I-I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry - she -" Chuckles started, eyes wandering as he pleaded with the man in front of him. The Joker scowled.

"At-ta-ta, let's leave Char out of this," The Joker hissed, not even looking back to see Charlotte panting in her seat.

"But, Boss she -"

Chuckles ended that sentence in a roar of pain as the Joker's hand plunged the scissors that were already lodged into his flesh even deeper. Charlotte closed her eyes as Chuckles screamed louder in agonizing pain. She could practically hear the scissors tearing against his skin. And to think...she'd done this.

"Stop it! STOP IT!" Charlotte screamed, eyes screwed shut. She was shaking so profusely the chair was creaking. She didn't open her eyes as the tears streamed down her sweaty face. The Joker paused at her yell, hand still tightly gripping the scissors. He cleared his throat and looked down at Chuckles, who was now looking as if he would retch.

"You're right, Char. Maybe I should put an end to this." The Joker drawled, turning to see the shaking girl. He smiled as he licked his upper lip. "You've ah, you've got suchhh a biiiig heart," he said, digging into coat pocket. Charlotte's eyes widened as he pulled out his silver revolver and aimed it at Chuckle's head without a second thought.

"No, no that's not what I meant," Charlotte breathed, more to herself than to anyone. If the Joker heard her he didn't pause. He'd been about to pull the trigger when she cried out again. "Please, please just let him go! this is all my fault, oh God, this is all my fault...please don't." Her stammering came to an end with a shaky breath. "Please...I'm...I'm sorry. Please."

The Joker didn't know what she was doing, or why she was so intent on saving pathetic little Chuckles, who was now holding back tears himself. He also didn't know why he'd taken a pause and listened, or why he'd lowered the gun a fraction of an inch. He just...did. A strange feeling overtook the Joker as he listened to Charlotte's sniffling cries in the background. He wanted to vomit. The chaos in his mind dulled down to a buzz and as he looked
down at Chuckle's again, he saw his own reflection in the man's shiny eyes.

The Joker bit down on his tongue as he turned to Charlotte again. She seemed as stunned as he was. Her eyes were slowly beginning to soften and - No, no! The Joker couldn't have that...He didn't want that. As if to prove a point, the Joker turned swiftly and smashed the gun onto Chuckles' head...knocking him out cold. Blood trailed down from the crack in Chuckle's forehead, trickling over his eyelids. The room was quiet. Breathless.

The Joker shot a burning glance at Charlotte before trudging back up the stairs he'd dragged her on, feeling the slighest bit shaken. As soon as he was gone, a massive slam was heard from the floor above. Charlotte found the power to leap from her chair and began to gently pry the scissors out of the man's shoulder. The goons were still watching her intently, utterly stunned that she'd managed to convince Boss otherwise simply begging to be forgiven.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Charlotte whispered tearfully, trying her best not to cause Chuckles any more pain.

No one said another word the entire night.

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June 9th.

John Blake tried to hide his frown as Commissioner Gordon told him that there was...well, nothing. Not a trace of the girl - Charlotte. Or the Joker. The only thing he had to go on was the blasted door in her classroom that had literally been wrenched off of its hinges. And really, that wasn't much to go by. There hadn't even been any fingerprints on the door pieces!

John frowned, struggling with himself as he entered his unit again and put the key into the ignition. They'd been fully working on this case for a few days now and he just didn't understand how there wasn't a single speck of evidence. He needed to find Charlotte, and soon. Later wasn't really an option.

}{}{}{}{}{}{

June 16th.

Charlotte gazed into the mirror sitting on the bureau in her room. Her eyes traced the bruises that were beginning to fade and the scrapes that were beginning heal. She lifted her shirt with one hand and traced the side of her torso with the other, grimacing as her cool fingers scanned over the large purple and yellow bruise hugging her rib cage.

The Joker could sure be rough...but what had she expected, for him to give her a hug after trying to escape?

Charlotte hadn't even tried to leave her room during her fitful days of recovery. Chuckles was also recovering. She'd overheard two goons walking by her room say that she'd stabbed a nerve that could permanently alter his shoulder, and Charlotte wished more than anything that he would be alright after a few days of rest and proper care. The guilt was almost unbearable, and she wondered if she would've been better off just staying here and not trying to escape. But it was too late for thoughts like those, and Charlotte knew that.

The Joker hadn't spoken a word to her since the...incident. Since he'd spared Chuckles' life at her request. It was odd, Charlotte knew that he didn't do things like that often - the shocked looks of the goons faces told her that. Charlotte spent her nights thinking about that small detail. The Joker was willing to drag her, push her, threaten her with knives...but he was also willing to listen to her pleas.

Charlotte had already tried to claim that this was nonsense, but it was true! She also knew that she was getting treated way better than his other prisoners. She was sure he'd abducted plenty more besides her during his time as Gotham's most feared criminal. Her smart mouth could have gotten her throat sliced plenty of times already. That hadn't happened yet, and Charlotte was surprised he hadn't even tried to backhand her every time she talked back to him.

Charlotte wasn't going to try escaping again anytime soon, she wasn't stupid or naive to try her luck again so early. But until then, she would come up with another plan.


Hi everyone! I hope this chapter gave you guys a taste of what this story is going to be like from here on out. Charlotte doesn't give up so easily! Review and tell me what you think! I love your wonderful responses so far! x