Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC. The Joker, John Blake, and Batman belong to DC Comics.
Chapter Ten.
"It's about sending a message..."
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"Boss wants to see ya," a Goon announced promptly as he burst into Charlotte's room, making her shriek. She wanted to curse out the fucking idiot, what if she'd been changing?
Charlotte turned swiftly, shielding her scantily clothed body by opening the closet door. She'd been lounging around in a thin tank top without a bra on and some running shorts. Her light blonde hair was tied into a messy ponytail. It wasn't like she was expected to be anywhere. In her mind, she thought that if she was going to confine herself to her room, she could at least do it comfortably. "Give me a minute," Charlotte muttered, hastily pulling on a hoodie and some jeans over her clothes.
"Now Miss, or I'll have to drag you there myself." He demanded, cocking his gun in her direction. Charlotte winced at the word 'drag'. She'd been dragged around this place too much already.
"Touch me and I'll scream. A minute won't kill you." Charlotte growled back, making sure she was slightly presentable. She knew the Goon wouldn't put a hand on her, not after Chuckles. When Charlotte finished, she marched right past him. She knew where the Joker's office was. She even rapped on the door herself, leaving the Goon quite useless.
"It's open," a sing-song voice replied softly. That sing-song voice.
Charlotte cringed as she pushed the door open. Whatever small amount of courage she'd had left her the moment the Goon slammed the door behind her. It was all the same, the single light-bulb, the fold out tables...him. The Joker had his feet kicked back on the tables while his arms rested behind his head. Charlotte could tell that his chair was tilted back to the extent that it was considered dangerous, but the smile on his face told her that he was completely content.
"Ooohhh, you're here!" The Joker grinned, slamming his chair back down and sitting properly. His forearms hit the table like a child in a highchair, fingers scraping against the metal unpleasantly. "Long. Time. No. See."
Charlotte tried her best not to gulp as she neared him, but her throat was suddenly closing up. The Joker analyzed her as usual, but he took his time. He hadn't seen in her a while. His shielded eyes met hers and he fought back a grin. "Well? aren't ya gonna sit down?" He asked, perking an eyebrow.
"I'm fine here, thanks," Charlotte mumbled, looking down. The Joker had been shifting impatiently, but she heard him stop.
"Sit down." He commanded in a voice that made Charlotte want to run. She raced to her seat noisily. "Good girl." The Joker commended, tongue swiping at his bottom lip. "Now, take those hands out of your lap."
Charlotte wanted to raise her eyebrows at the strange request, but complied immediately. She couldn't help that her hands were trembling almost violently. She also didn't miss the Joker's sly smirk when he saw this. The Joker reached for the hand that was nearest him, clasping it between his own. Charlotte flinched involuntarily - his hands were cold, and it gave her goosebumps. He wasn't wearing his gloves, and her thin fingers
were swallowed by his large hands. They were soft and not as calloused because the gloves protected them constantly, but Charlotte wasn't really thinking about that. She was stuck on the fact that the Joker was simply holding her hand and not breaking it...yet.
"Such dainty hands...Care to tell me how they were strong enough to stab a guy in the shoulder?" The Joker murmured, looking up at her from underneath his hooded eyelids. Not like Charlotte could tell, the only thing she knew was that his dark eyes were glinting dangerously. "And why?"
Charlotte stared at him as blankly as she could. "I'd say it's pretty obvious why I did it."
The Joker jerked abruptly, hooting with laughter and bringing her hand up with him. "Ah, there's that fire again. And to think I thought you'd lost it after our little scuffle...Really, the whole, ah, screaming and wailing bit doesn't suit you."
"It seemed to work on you the past few times," Charlotte retorted before she could close her mouth. The Joker paused, his hand going limp around her own.
"Hm?"
"I mean, the first time I wailed and sobbed you spared my teacher. The second time you spared your own hit-man." Charlotte replied defiantly. Feeling confident enough, she went to pull her hand out of the Joker's loose grasp.
Big mistake.
The Joker's reflexes were like a cobra's. Her hand barely got the chance to move out of his own before he gripped it back, crushing her fingers."Ah, listen. You're a smart girl, right? Good." He deadpanned. "I didn't kill your stupid teacher because I don't like to Shoot. And. Run. There was hardly any time left to grab your ungrateful butt and go." The Joker said lowly, hand curling into a fist around Charlotte's fingers. He increased the pressure with each word and syllable. "Second...Chuckles in one of my best men, I'm not about to waste him. He's obedient, unlike you. He also got his punishment...and I'll tell ya something you both have...uh...in common. I. Don't. Give. Second. Chances-ah." The Joker growled as Charlotte whimpered in pain.
She was a strong girl, trying to hold it all in, he thought. But she did not have the authority to tell him what he should or shouldn't do. No one did. The Joker paused for a few more agonizing moments before relinquishing Charlotte's hand, relishing as he saw a tear fall from her glossy eyes. The Joker looked down before she quickly snatched it away. The tips of her fingers had turned purple. He looked forward to seeing the bruises on her knuckles tomorrow. Charlotte was trembling profusely, unable to control her emotions. She cradled her wounded hand against her chest.
"Oh! Anddddd another thing." The Joker added in afterthought. He reached into his pocket nonchalantly and pulled out a blade, regarding it as if he were staring at a piece of pocket lint. It glinted just like his eyes. "Don't touch the scars...," He warned. "Ever again...Unless of course, you want a pair yourself." The Joker chuckled darkly, before stabbing the blade into the table. Charlotte flinched again. She looked down to hide her eyes in shame as he got out of his seat and began walking towards the door. She didn't even try to reach for the knife while his back was turned, knowing it was a bad idea. On his way out, the Joker reached over and snapped the band of Charlotte's ponytail without stopping his stride. Charlotte held in a sob as her hair cascaded softly around her.
"Fuck you," she whispered, as soon as the door slammed.
}{}{}{}{}{}{
June 20th.
Charlotte didn't want to crawl out of bed. If she did, she'd have to be reminded that she wasn't dreaming...that her Hell was real.
She missed her parents. She missed the few friends that she had. She missed her freedom. Hell, she missed being able to leave a room without an escort or without being leered at by groups of men. She didn't know if they cared whether she noticed, but she did. Charlotte felt their eyes rotate around her body, even under the masks. The goons didn't dare touch her...but they didn't have to. Their eyes violated her enough. If there was one thing she...appreciated...about the Joker, it was that the moment he entered the room, the stares stopped. To Charlotte, it was almost as if a nob had been switched. One moment they'd be leering at her like she was a premium rib-eye steak, and the next it would be as if she didn't exist. The only downfall to this was that the Joker analyzed her in his own way every time he was around. His eyes would trace every inch of her body as if looking for fingerprints or scratches...like she was a fragile item. Still, Charlotte couldn't help the hellish blush that rose in her face and neck every time he looked at her like that. Charlotte could feel his eyes burning into her even when her back was turned.
It irritated Charlotte that The Joker hadn't quite announced what her use would be yet. To Charlotte, knowing what he wanted from her was crucial if she was going to have any real chance of getting out. And it wasn't as if she could just ask. Charlotte couldn't even imagine the look that would encompass the man's face if she asked something like: "Hey Joker, what type of pawn am I?"
The Joker didn't want her sexually, Charlotte was sure of it. If he did, wouldn't he have made a move on her already? Besides the constant analyzing and hair touching when she was around, the Joker hadn't made any skin contact with her since the night he'd nearly crushed her hand to a pulp. Surprisingly, her knuckles hadn't bruised, and she hadn't missed the scowl of disappointment that had ghosted over the Joker's face as he'd passed her the next morning.
Charlotte drowned out an agitated scream into her pillow. What was she to him? A pet?
}{}{}{}{}{}{
June 30th.
"Char!" The Joker barked, voice echoing through the large warehouse. Charlotte nearly skidded down the metal staircase after hearing the commotion. The Joker stared up at her, irritated. It had taken him three tries to get the girl to come down. "C'mere," he motioned with his gloved fingers. She hesitated, wondering if she was in trouble. Charlotte's stomach turned nervously as she brought a hand to her lips in shock. A cluster of goons were gathered around a lumpy looking figure covered in red. Charlotte's eyes widened as she realized it was blood. Her eyes followed the small trail of red that started at the door and ended at the cluster -
"Now!" Joker demanded, losing his patience with the girl. Couldn't she see that time was precious here? As soon as Charlotte made it down the steps he grabbed her elbow, ignoring her hiss of pain. "Where are those lovely pair of tweezers that came with your beauty set?" The Joker asked. If this had been a normal situation, Charlotte would have laughed. But it wasn't, because nothing was ever normal when it came to the Joker. A few days ago, the Joker had come to the warehouse bearing a 'gift' for Charlotte. When he'd slid it to her across the fold out table she looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
"What the fuck is this?" Charlotte had wanted to say. A 'gift' wouldn't exactly keep her from wanting to escape. Perhaps the Joker had found it in the purse of some woman he'd killed, or on the shelf of some store he'd bombed. Brilliant.
The beauty kit he'd given her had an array of beauty products and materials, including a pair of tiny tweezers. Charlotte chose not to try and use the tweezers as a weapon, either. They were too blunt and it was too soon for another failed escape routine. If she tried, the Joker would probably rip her eyeballs out of her head with them, anyways. Charlotte hadn't wanted to use the makeup, she did it out of fear. The Joker claimed that it would 'liven her up a bit'...whatever that meant. Why did he care what she looked like anyways, she wasn't his girlfriend! Oh God, Charlotte had wanted to wretch at the very thought.
"Upstairs?" Charlotte guessed frantically, eyes glued to the man who was bleeding out in front of them.
"GO GET THEM!" The Joker yelled in her face, pushing her halfway up the stairs. Charlotte wasn't rushing because he'd asked her to - but because she was truly worried about the man's predicament. It was obvious that he'd been captured like her. For a moment Charlotte wondered if she should just let the man lie there and bleed out - she'd probably be doing the poor guy a favor. Once she was back with the tweezers, the Joker thrust
her in front of the goons, briefly explaining what she needed to do. Her grip on the tweezers slackened.
"You want me to what?!" Charlotte exclaimed, turning to stare at the clown. She didn't look at him for long. The Joker growled as he lost his last shred of delicate patience.
"Don't make me repeat myself, Char. There's a bullet lodged in Mister Weather Man's chest here, and if it's not out in about, ah, four minutes, he'll. Die." The Joker wrapped a gloved hand around the back of Charlotte's neck. "And if he dies...Well, let's just say that I won't be responsible for what I do to you. You've, ah, taken at least one medical class in your shortened high school life, SO DO IT!" He finished loudly, pushing her down on her knees in front of the blindfolded man. Even with the dark rag around his eyes, Charlotte knew who he was.
"That's...that's Mike Engel!"
"Very good, Dollface. Now get to work."
Charlotte took in a shaky breath before quickly looking at what she had to deal with. Dark blood stained Engel's beige suit and crisp white dress shirt. As far as she could tell, he was nearly unconscious. Charlotte wouldn't be able work if she undid his shirt with her shaky fingers. If she saw the wound in its full glory, she'd probably become sick at the sight of it. Charlotte balanced herself as steadily as she could and leaned over the panting man. Luckily, the bullet wasn't so far in, she could see the gold tip glinting in the man's flesh among the blood. As Charlotte aimed the tweezers, she wondered why Joker insisted that she do it. She spared a quick glance around the room and got her answer. The goons had probably caused this in the first place, and if they couldn't aim a gun, the certainly couldn't retrieve a bullet. And, the Joker wouldn't even think about dirtying his hands to save a Gotham citizen, even if he planned on using him.
The tip of the tweezers delved into the wound, eliciting a loud noise of pain from Engel. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Charlotte shushed him, feeling every eye in the room on her. Her palms were beginning to sweat. The more she sank the tweezers in, the more he screamed and bled. By the time the tweezers scraped the sides of the bullet, Charlotte's wrists were doused in wet, warm blood. Charlotte shot a panicked look at the Joker, who was staring down at the situation intently, arms crossed.
"I think he's a Hemophiliac!" Charlotte told him, her voice trembling from panic. The Joker's brows raised expectantly.
"What?"
"It means his blood can't clot -"
"I knoooww what it means," the Joker hissed. "And you better hope he isn't."
Charlotte turned back to the wailing Engel, silently praying that he wouldn't die. The smell of copper was nearly threatening to choke her. After managing her grip on the bullet, she all but yanked it out. The large group stared silently at the bloody bullet clamped between the tiny metal prongs. The only sound was Mike Engel's breaths of pain. Charlotte stared at the bullet in her grasp for a moment, one hand clamping down on Engel's constantly bleeding wound.
"I did it," Charlotte muttered softly. "I did it!"
And with that, she fell promptly at the Joker's feet.
/
"Chaaarloootttee," his voiced cooed in that sing song way she couldn't stand. "Char, come on. Wakey, wakey."
Charlotte's eyelids dragged upwards slowly, revealing the shadowy figure leaning over her.
"There she is," the Joker murmured, brows raising devilishly in wonder. "Why didn't you say you weren't good with blood?"
"Like that would've stopped you," Charlotte groaned lowly, propping herself up on her elbows. Her head felt like it was made out of lead. She glared up at the Joker in the darkness when she realized they were in her room. Alone.
"True," Joker quirked, turning to click on the light. He smirked as he made his way back to stand by her bed. "Y'know, if I hadn't been standing there you'd probably have a concussion," the Joker smiled, tongue pressing firmly against the roof of his mouth as he let out the final syllable. "Like Charlie!"
Charlotte winced. Charlie, otherwise known as "Chuckles" was currently walking around with a bandage around his head. Along with the stab wound in his shoulder, Charlie had a fresh gash on his head and a concussion from where the Joker had slammed his revolver against his head. "How is he?" Charlotte asked quietly. She looked up to see the Joker's eyes squint. Why did she care so much about the damn kid?
"Who, Engel? He's just fine! A little holed up, but he'll do." The Joker chuckled, completely ignoring Charlotte's question about Chuckles. He wasn't about to have a conversation about the well-being of his henchman with her. "You know, for a moment I thought you'd really botch up the job!" The Joker grinned, shrugging in his suit. He flicked out his tongue in that cobra-like way of his before sitting down abruptly on the side of Charlotte's bed. Charlotte tried to move her legs but he rested a gloved hand on her ankle before she could. She tried her best to restrain the urge to kick his hand away.
"That's the last time I let another guy do the shooting besides me. You'd think they'd know how to aim a shotgun properly," the Joker tut-tutted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Charlotte looked at him incredulously as his hand skimmed over the bed sheet and flicked her cheek. "Buuut now that you're here...We might as well put you to some use."
}{}{}{}{}{}{
July 1st.
John Blake sighed loudly as he stared down at the only evidence they'd manage to scrape up for Charlotte Marlone's case.
Her phone.
Charlotte Marlone's cell phone had been found in a dumpster in The Narrows. A Joker card had been taped to it.
John felt the urge to flip the evidence table over. The damn phone was useless, there weren't even any fingerprints on it! The phone blinked as it turned on, the background showing a nothing but red HA HA HA's. Blake couldn't help but be utterly perplexed by the clown.
What did he want with Charlotte? She was young, new, daughter of Gotham's new D.A. -
John paused as the phone blinked again in its plastic baggy. He stared at it for a moment before cursing silently and running out of the room. He had to find Commissioner Gordon, A.S.A.P.
/
"You're sure about this, Detective?" Gordon asked, bespectacled eyes glancing up to the officer in front of him. John shifted at the sound of his new title...he didn't think he deserved to be a Detective. There were so many other people that worked hard, if not harder than him...So what made him so special to Gordon. Plus, it was a bit hard to be positive about it when he could constantly feel people judging him because he was younger. "There can't be any other reason besides the fact that Mr. Marlone is our newest District Attorney. What else would he want with a girl like Charlotte?"
Commissioner Gordon gazed at his desk, brow furrowing. He scanned the Joker's file, which was literally helpless. No name, no date of birth, clothing custom. Everything in the damn thing was just an educated guess...barely that, even. Like he was figment of everyone's imagination.
"Well," Gordon cleared his throat and looked back at Blake, "Perhaps the Joker has taken an interest in young Miss Marlone. She's pretty, young, and most importantly new. The psychopath hasn't made a move for Mr. Marlone yet, which is quite odd, considering his character. With the Joker's list of disorders...it wouldn't be surprising to find a little bit of Pedophilia -"
Blake cringed audibly. Yes, the Joker was a mass murderer, but that didn't mean he was a rapist or a pedophile! The past made him hate both of those words terribly, not that Gordon knew that. Not that anyone in the Gotham City Police Department knew that.
"Sir...I don't think that's fair to assume. She's young, but still considered of legal adult age in the eyes of the law..." Blake leveled with the elder man. "And isn't that what he wants you to think? The element of surprise is everything to a guy like him! There have been plenty of kidnapping cases like Charlotte's...I would say it's safe to say that he's simply holding her hostage...He did it to Dent and Dawes, didn't he? And what did they have in common?" Blake finished quietly, feeling a burn on the back of his neck. Gordon stared quietly at John Blake. The young man was seemed so inquisitive about the whole thing.
"District Attorney it is." Gordon sighed, picking up the phone.
Hi everyone! So, I wasn't exactly planning on updating today, but here it is! The reason for this is because for those of you who don't know, this past Wednesday (the 22nd) was Heath Ledger's sixth anniversary. I really wanted to post a chapter in his honor on Wednesday, but I didn't get the chance to. I just wanted to say that without Heath, TDK Joker wouldn't be as perfect as he is, and this story along with many others wouldn't even exist! How crazy is that? Heath is one of my biggest inspirations and one of my favorite people, so this one is for him. Rest in peace, Heath. We love you.
Please review and tell me what you think of the story so far. What do you think is going to happen? I have quite a few plot twists up my sleeve! Sorry for any typos! Also if you'd like to see a picture of what Charlotte looks like, leave a comment in the review section and I'll happily post a picture when I update next time! x
