Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC. The Joker, Batman, and John Blake belong to DC Comics.
*Trigger warning: this chapter contains dark material including violence and assault*
Chapter Twelve.
"I took your little plan...And I turned it on itself."
Month
Besides the copious amounts of blood she had to deal with and the constant boredom, Charlotte hated to say it...But being captured wasn't that bad. At least, it was a lot less worse than what she'd been expecting. Mostly, she either spent her time alone or with the Joker. As long as she kept her smartass comments to a minimum, he didn't threaten her or try to hurt her. Although, he was constantly giving her warnings with his eyes. Charlotte had learned how to read them now - the glinting in them meant danger, and his raised brow meant that he was either curious or thinking. The Joker's eyes were certainly playful, a warm brown with hints of green rimming the irises, but they were also constantly alert. Sometimes Charlotte would catch him lightly scanning her body, as he always did...but if she even flicked a finger or shifted her shoulder - those eyes followed.
The Joker was terrifying, she couldn't deny that. But he was also extremely interesting. He was the type of interesting that made Charlotte question every single look or word he shot at her. The type of interesting that left her reeling in his afterimage hours later. Some nights, Charlotte almost couldn't handle it. Sleep never really enveloped her now, and when it did just a little, she'd wake up in a cold sweat.
The Joker was virus.
It didn't seem to help Charlotte's case that she still didn't know what he was planning on doing with her - or to her. So far he'd only asked her to help with small things in the place - stocking bullets and loading guns, tiny tasks that the men in his operation couldn't complete when they were out. Primarily, her job was to heal and look after his goons. That also, wasn't as bad as she'd expected to be. Many of the men she helped were young, recently acquired recruits that hurt themselves during tasks - mostly from lack of experience. They'd end up with a bullet here or a scrape there, and Charlotte would simply hold her breath and deal with it as quickly as she could. She felt as if she was working in a daycare for criminals. Ha, she could picture it now: Gotham City Daycare and Kiddie Club for the Criminally Insane. How quaint.
Because of this, the goons were almost...loyal to her. They didn't hurt her, and many of the lewd glances at her body had stopped after they'd seen what she could do. While they were entirely intimidating - especially the heavily muscled, tattooed goons of the group - they spoke to her courteously and sometimes even made her laugh a bit. Although she still 'belonged to the Joker', she was still a lady in their eyes, and was treated as such. Despite the new-found sense of pseudo-safety Charlotte found in the warehouse, she knew it wouldn't be long until she'd stop being Joker's secretary and become his weapon.
Days passed, injuries happened. It was a routine that Charlotte became basically accustomed to. Mostly, there were three things that bothered her. The first thing was the blood. The coppery smell made her queasy and she hated the feeling of the gauze swiping at the wounds. The second, was that she'd never found out what had happened to Mike Engle, her first patient. She'd tried asking Chuckles once, but his only reply was that he'd been 'dealt with'. Charlotte sort of hoped that meant he was dead - death had to be better than being controlled by the Joker. Rather to be dead than be a pawn.
Huh, Charlotte thought. Boy, was she one to talk.
The third problem was Burt. Burt was one of the goons - a tatted, muscled, hairy ton of a man that was so aggressive it was savage. Countless times, Charlotte had heard him bragging to other goons about what he'd done to a victim on the days they went out on missions. He was enthusiastic about killing, blood, and violence. One would think that it didn't make him any different from the other goons, or even the Joker...
But it did. Charlotte constantly had to leave the room when he was telling those horrifying stories of his, smiling as he did it. If she wasn't mistaken, many of the goons didn't like it either; they mostly just nodded when he spoke - but their enthusiasm about it never seemed to heighten. If she was being honest with herself, Charlotte only felt safe from Burt when the Joker was in the same room. She'd seen the way Burt looked at her when she'd pass by, and when the Joker was around - she was nearly invisible to him. Charlotte didn't trust Burt...he was a creep.
That's why she cowered in her boots when Burt finally spoke to her after weeks of just staring at her.
"Miss Charlotte," Burt called her, her customary name around the warehouse. "I need a quick stitching." He said lowly, never even bothering to lift his eyes to her face. Charlotte didn't know why, but it was her instinct to glance to the doors of the warehouse. Most of the men had just returned from a long task - some sort of bank heist. Many of the goons were still outside unloading the trucks and replacing them with new cargo, leaving Charlotte with this disgusting man. It seemed that he was the only one who had returned with an injury that day. Charlotte found it to be extremely odd that Burt of all people needed aid - he was one of the strongest men in the group and never got hurt- but it wasn't like she could just deny him because he was a creep. She looked back up at Burt to see that he was smiling lewdly at her. He towered over her - he was so tall he nearly shadowed her entire form.
"Um, yeah...Alright," Charlotte finally said, trying her best not to sigh. "Let me go get the first aid kit."
"Hurry." Burt ordered gruffly, and Charlotte shot him a small, weirded out look before she went to fetch the box. When she returned, she found Burt standing in the exact same spot in the living room, a trace of his ugly smile still remaining on his face. Charlotte set the kit on the back of one of the couches before opening it.
"Where were you hurt?"
"On my side," Burt said, quickly removing his shirt and throwing over the couch. Charlotte fought the urge to blush as he stood in front of her, shirtless, tattooed chest, stomach, and arms fully exposed. Charlotte was entirely uncomfortable. This wasn't the first time a goon had been shirtless in front of her - but Burt was huge. He could break her.
Charlotte scanned his torso, leaning in slightly to find the wound beneath his tattoos. "There's no -"
Charlotte's moment of slight hesitation was all Burt needed. The next thing she knew, Charlotte was knocked with a blow to the face that made her tumble backwards. The world spinned as her head hit the hard cement.
"Shut up, Bitch. Don't you dare make a fucking sound." Charlotte heard from above before a large, heavy hand clamped across her nose and mouth. She realized in horror that Burt's shirtless form was on top of her.
Charlotte began to fight instantly, even though she knew it was in vain. Burt's strong legs were constricting against her hips and arms as he straddled her, and no matter how many weak kicks she delivered, he didn't budge. He was sitting on her knees, his weight nearly unbearable as Charlotte screamed into his hand. Burt chuckled as he reached into his back pocket with his free hand to grab a knife. As he held it closely to Charlotte's tear-stained face, she realized that it was one of Joker's. The pearled handle glinted beautifully as the stiletto blade threatened to slice her nose off.
"What the fuck did just I say? I swear to fucking God, make one more noise and it's over." Burt mimicked slicing her neck open on himself before pressing it against her cheek. "You're such a pretty girl. Shame, wouldn't wanna ruin it. One little slice, and that cute little button nose'll be on the floor."
Charlotte clenched her eyes shut in order to keep shrieks and screams coming from her constrained mouth. Burt's eyes crazily followed his spare hand as it began to palm her breasts. She held a painful groan in her throat as he squeezed at her chest roughly. Burt's threats were entirely real - she could see it in his eyes. One scream from her and she'd be dead. So why didn't she just scream then? This would all be over if she just let a sound come out. Charlotte's dignity kept her from letting it go.
"You're liking this, you little slut. I know you are. I've seen you looking at me over these past few weeks, and I know you've seen me looking at you. What, you think you're fucking special because you're fucking the Boss? Is that why you haven't tried things with me, huh?" Burt growled, ranting. "Don't let Boss fool you, you're not fucking special to him. You're just his pet. If you're gonna play with him, you're gonna play with me, Bitch."
Charlotte screamed internally, both because of what he was saying to her and what he was doing. She wasn't fucking the Joker, the thought of that made her want to vomit. Charlotte swore she could feel bile collecting in her throat as Burt's hand went between her legs. Charlotte cursed herself internally for wearing a skirt. Charlotte kneed him out of pure anger, and when his hand loosened slightly she sunk her teeth into it. His calloused skin was salty against her tongue, and she hated it. Burt's angry hiss of pain brought her brief joy. Her accomplishment only made it worse. A weak scream emitted from her before Burt's hand was back, at her throat this time. He squeezed so hard she saw stars, and if she wasn't mistaken she felt the knife knick at her skin.
"You're gonna pay for that, you dirty Bitch!" Burt growled, before thrusting two dry fingers into her. It was possibly the worst pain Charlotte had even experienced in her life. Jesus fucking Christ, Charlotte wanted to yell, but the pressure against her throat left her open mouth silent. Burt covered her mouth with his, pushing his tongue past her lips. Charlotte didn't even try to bite his nasty tongue as she felt it circle her mouth.
Where was her adrenaline? Was she in shock?
Burt's smoker breath seeped into her mouth and nose as he kissed her sloppily, his stubble scraping her skin. Charlotte's screams disappeared into his slimy mouth. Charlotte wasn't surprised as she sent a glance to the closed doors of the warehouse. If she listened closely, she could hear the goons taking care of their business. No one would know what was going on within. Charlotte tried to get away mentally, quickly realizing that it would be impossible to escape physically. As Burt sat up to quickly undo his belt buckle and unzip his pants, Charlotte shakily closed her eyes. It would be over soon, this was going to be her end. Silent sobs wracked her body as she realized that this was really it. She'd spent her last weeks of life holed up in an abandoned warehouse with Gotham's most dangerous man, and he wouldn't even be the one to kill her. It was funny, really, how this was all ending. Burt's fingers increased the pressure on her throat, and grey splotches blocked her vision. She'd been about to let go when she heard the most incredible sound.
The sound of a throat clearing...And there he was.
"Ahem." The Joker announced himself calmly. Burt's body stiffened over Charlotte's. Charlotte looked over to see the Joker's form framing the doorway of the warehouse. Charlotte laughed internally...had it really been that easy to let go of reality? The Joker wasn't really standing there, of course he wasn't. If she were to look back into reality, she would see Burt plowing into her like a rabid animal. The Joker was probably the most horrifyingly beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Everything seemed to heighten. The lights in the room were brighter...the Joker's makeup, hair, and purple suit were more prominent. It was all too real...but it wasn't.
The hazy glow covering the room gave it away. Charlotte smiled dazedly. The weight on her throat vanished, she could even breathe again. Hm...Maybe she was dead, after all.
"B-Boss?" Burt's gruff, panicked voice floated over Charlotte's ears. Burt practically jumped off of Charlotte, immediately reaching to put on his shirt. "Boss, we weren't doin' nothin', we were just, she was just healing me -"
"Don't. Move." Joker threatened, silver revolver aimed directly at Burt's heart. The Joker chuckled. "Listen, ah, Burt. I understand...Char's a pretty girl, isn't she? Aaand you thought that it wouldn't hurt to get. A. Little. Taste." The Joker's brow rose playfully, as if he were joking with a friend. The growl beneath his cool tone was extremely prominent. "So, let's just be honest, hm? We're all men here, aren't we?"
"Y-Yes," Burt's stuttered. His large form almost seemed to cower as the Joker's leaner form stepped closer casually. The Joker was only a few inches shorter than Burt, still tall, but their body types were entirely different. Burt was large and beefy, while the Joker was entirely lean, muscled, and broad shouldered beneath the heavy purple coat. The Joker took another step, feiging surprise as the tip of his shoe came into contact with the knife Burt had stolen from him. The Joker glanced down, eyes passing briefly passing over Charlotte's body. He didn't meet her eyes, that would make him lose control and he didn't want to fucking kill Burt.
Not. Just. Yet.
"Well, isn't that a surprise-ah." The Joker murmured, picking up his pearled knife as he studied it with wonder. He lowered the gun to study the knife some more. "Y'know, I've been looking for this thing! How'd ya get it?" The Joker asked coolly, as if he was asking someone where they'd found a type of sweater. The Joker smirked inwardly, reveling at the fire rising within him. This kill was going to be extremely enjoyable. He could see Burt's brow sweat rolling down the putrid man's face.
"Er, I...I...Miss Charlotte had it!" Burt blabbered. The Joker looked up at the high, fanned ceiling in irritation. He bit down on his scarred inner cheek, hard. If the fucker was going to lie, couldn't he at least take the time to do it well?
"And just, ah, just what would Miss. Charlotte. Be doing with my knife?"
"I-I don't know! She came back with the healing kit and the knife!"
The Joker licked his lips noisily before a gunshot rang through the large space. Burt twitched momentarily before he fell back clutching his chest, landing heavily on Charlotte's limp legs. The Joker strode over quickly, tucking in his gun before leaning down to drag the buffoon away from Charlotte while she watched. Charlotte's sleepy eyes watched the Joker concentrate on pulling the larger man by his legs. The motion did everything it could to remind her that he'd done the same thing to her once. The Joker even repeated the same action of crouching over Burt and bringing the knife to his face. Charlotte could've been imagining it, but she swore she could hear Burt whimpering in fear. The look in the Joker's face was powerful enough to bring someone to their own death...His eyes were blazing.
"You know what I hate, Burtie?" The Joker murmured in a sing song voice, gloved hand hovering over the man's face. Half of the stiletto knife was inside of his mouth. "I only hate a few things in this world...But here they are, in no specific order. I'll even make it multiple choice for you." The Joker smiled, digging the knife into the side of the man's face. Charlotte's gaze left the spectacle in front of her to glance at the opening of the damned warehouse. A large hanful of goons stood in silence, not daring to enter and disturb to scene. Charlotte could see Chuckles' face in the crowd. His eyes glanced over her body in shame before looking down. Charlotte didn't know if the Joker noticed the crowd or not. Or maybe he did...Maybe that's why he was giving them such a show. The sound of Burt's horrible gasps of pain made her look back at the violence.
"Number one -ah. I hate. Liars." The Joker said, before slicing through one side of Burt's stubbled cheek. Charlotte wanted to look away as blood spurted out of the man's face...But she couldn't. The Joker's theatrics were keeping her glued to the sight. "Number two. I. Hate. Rapists." He hissed, swiftly slicing through the other cheek. The Joker didn't flinch when he saw blood beginning to seep into his leather gloves, darkening the shade of purple to a near maroon. He saw red.
Charlotte was positive that she would throw up as she looked at the raw smile on Burt's face. The man's scream echoed through the warehouse, but they did nothing to help his case. The screams only made his face split even wider. Charlotte didn't know why, but silent, sleek tears were flowing. Maybe it was the fact that Burt's screams were painfully close to rupturing her eardrums, or that she genuinely felt bad for the disgusting man. Maybe it was both. Either way, she wished that the Joker would just go ahead and kill him. She didn't want to be scarred with the image of Burt's face being ripped open...
But then she realized...She'd been scarred ever since she'd first looked into the Joker's eyes from her spot on that rainy sidewalk.
Burt was begging now, gurgling and choking on the amount of blood that was pooling in his mouth. The Joker's smile was gone - as much as it could be, at least. He reached for the knife and stabbed it into Burt's bullet wound. Burt's screams intensified as Joker dug around, gouging the wound even more as he searched for his bullet. He flipped it out of Burt's chest before leaving the knife in the man and standing up. The Joker stepped back, admiring his work as if he were gone to the world. Blood was beginning to create a tiny puddle that would probably stain the cement, but Joker didn't care. There would be a lot more where that came from in a few moments anyhow.
"Number three." The Joker continued, nonchalantly reaching into his belt loop and retrieving the gun again. He cocked the gun, placing the golden, bloodied bullet back inside. He stared at Charlotte for a moment, gaining the amount of anger he needed to finish the job. The image of his Char laying lifelessly on the cold floor with her clothing ripped and her skirt up to her hips burned behind his retinas.
The Joker turned his attention back to sorry Burt. "I hate people...that try to Take. What's. Mine."
A stream of never ending bullets released, every single one finding a home in Burt's body. During the first few, Burt's screams of pain could still be heard. After a while, Charlotte didn't hear him at all. The Joker had shot through his jaw and throat. Charlotte didn't look at the mess on the floor that shifted with each gunshot. Her eyes were glued to the Joker's expressionless face. As she stared, the bullets released more quickly,
Charlotte saw the Joker's brow's furrow beneath the greasepaint. He didn't even flinch as blood spattered against his white face, giving him bloody freckles.
Sooner or later, the Joker lowered his gun. He'd run out of bullets. The Joker stared down at the unrecognizable bloody mush that was once a human being. He fought the urge to grin at his victory. He stared at the mess he'd made for a while...Until Charlotte whimpered. The Joker's eyes burned into hers briefly. Char was crying and sputtering, unbelievably horrified. Hyperventilating, really. Something irked him, something in his chest was pricking him...something unbelievably close to what people usually called pity.
"Chuckles." The Joker murmured, finally ripping his gaze away from the damned girl. "Get Char upstairs to bed."
Chuckles didn't need to be asked twice. The young ginger man practically ran into the room, careful to not come too close to his Boss. Wordlessly, he picked up Charlotte's limp body and began to carry her bridal style up the noisy metal stairs. Unlike Boss, he had a heart. Seeing Charlotte cry so weakly in his arms made Chuckles feel disgusted with this whole business. His light brows furrowed as he brought the girl to her room and gave her a glass of water with a sleeping solvent. She was bawling so hard she couldn't breathe. Why did Boss have to bring her into this mess?
/
The Joker entered Charlotte's room quietly, practically sliding through the door. The mess had been so much larger than he'd thought...It had taken hours for his men to clean up, and there was still a huge bloody stain imprinted onto the cement. For the first time in a very long time, the Joker felt disgusted with the whole thing. The Joker had only felt this way once - the first time he'd killed someone, held a gun in his hand. After that, every kill was easy, emotionless if not pleasing. But this one...It almost haunted him. Perhaps he didn't like the mess...
God damn it. It was Char...
Char, and her stupid eyes. The Joker was so tempted to just kill her as he sat down at the side of her bed. The bed sank slightly under its new addition, but not enough to wake her up. He could just kill the girl, be done with the whole thing. Pretend she never existed. She was so much trouble. It would be too easy to kill her cleanly in her sleep. Her back was to him already, the back of her head in plain sight. But, the Joker didn't even reach for his newly replenished gun. If he killed her, he'd be letting her go. He'd be sparing her. He couldn't do that.
No, the Joker thought. No, he needed her...He didn't know exactly part she would play in the grand scheme of things anymore - but what he did know was the heavy feeling in his gut told him that getting rid of her now was a bad choice. The Joker listened intently for her steady breaths to make sure that she was fully asleep before he even dared to move. Lightly, he placed a bloodied, gloved hand on her head, fingers trailing down into her silky blonde hair.
If only he'd known that Charlotte was fully awake, fresh tears beginning to dry on her pillow. Her eyes widened in surprise as Joker's soft, dark voice broke through the darkness.
"No one's ever gonna hurt you again, Char. You're mine."
Hey loves! Long time no see! Well, don't say I didn't warn you, but this chapter was pretty dark huh? This is sort of where the story really starts to take a plot turn, so please tell me what you think! Did you enjoy it? Did you think it was too much? Any opinion is welcome. Like I've said, I have a good amount of this story written from a while back, so I mostly just edit and post when I have the time - the uni I go to is really intense so I try my best, and I hope the wait was worth it! What do you think of the Joker's reaction? I was inspired to post this because I saw how many of you reviewed and followed and alerted this story - and believe me when I say nothing makes me happier! I also got to see a screening of TDK earlier this week at the ArcLight theater. It was amazing to see Heath's Joker on the big screen again, and seeing his legacy live on through people's reactions was absolutely wonderful. Leave me a review, come say hi and tell me what you thought of the chapter! What do you think is going to happen now? The best has yet to come! Until next time, my readers! Love to all! x
