Warnings: Cussing and gore. I mean, come on. It's the Joker. Take heed.

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, nor do I own DC.

Soooo, it's been a while. I've been busy what with the holidays, finishing up some major Cosplay designs, and dealing with day to day stresses, I finally got some time to finish this chapter =) It is un-beta'd, so please forgive me for any grammatical or punctuation errors that most certainly will be lurking within the chapter. =) And since it's been a while, I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer than necessary so the chapter isn't as long as my usual chapters are… so… sorry about that.

Who excited about Suicide Squad? August can't come fast enough.

"No. No. No." Jack bellowed. "What the fuck is this?!" He jabbed his finger at the blue prints Sammy had laid upon the kitchen table a few minutes before.

Sammy backed up a few paces, knowing what was going to happen next.

Jack grabbed his pocket knife out of his pants pocket, flipped the blade open and buried it deep into the wooden kitchen table. "There's no clean getaway! You told me there was!" He picked up one of the chairs in front of him and tossed it across the room. The wooden chair exploded upon impact, leaving a small hole in the wall where it hit.

He pulled at his long dirty blonde hair then pounded his fists into the table.

His patience, what little was left now a-days, was wearing thin. So very, very thin.

"I don't know what to tell you Jack. I could have sworn there was a clean exit at the rear of the bank." Sammy shook his head and pointed at the blue prints.

Jack slowly lifted his head up to his friend. "Do you think this is a joke?" He pushed himself away from the table and swiped the knife out of the wood and pointed it at his friend. "Well? Do you?" He strode angrily toward Sammy. "Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Sammy held his hands out defensively. "Jack, the blue prints I got originally were old. I didn't realize until I did recon… They added to the back a few years ago. The vault was expanded, making it completely impossible to exit in the back. This just means we have to come up with a different getaway. That's all."

Slowly, Jack's lips curled into a smirk. "That's all, huh?"

Sammy's shoulders slumped. "Ya, Jack. That's all."

He played with the tip of his knife, the smiley face engraved on the blade smiling right back at him.

"Look… maybe I should go." Sammy looked down at his watch. "Jeannie will be home soon, and you said she isn't feeling well. How's about we pick this up tomorrow after we get a good nights sleep. We can come at it fresh." Sammy grabbed his jacket and his cabbie hat. "Get some sleep, Jacky. You're turning into a psycho."

Jack looked at his friend, his smirk turning into a sneer as he watched his friend exit his home. His fingers gripped his switchblade, his hands twitching with pent up frustration.

It took all his self control not to stab Sammy in the gut a few times. He whipped around and stabbed the table top a few times instead.

A while later, Jeannie dragged herself into the apartment. It was well after ten at night; her junior dance class had their first recital, and putting on a happy face, all the while trying to hide the fact that her husband was slowly going insane with trying to plan the perfect bank heist, hiding a pregnancy and trying to not die of morning sickness was taking a toll on her.

She couldn't wait until this stupid heist was over… it wasn't until after everything was said and done, and she and Jack were no longer in Gotham was when she would break the news to him that she was knocked up… she only hoped that it wouldn't take more than a few more weeks. Her jeans were already starting to feel tight on her.

She made her way to the kitchen and if she had any energy she would have thrown a fit over the heap of wood that used to be a kitchen chair on the floor and a hole in the wall. But she just couldn't muster the energy.

Jack was hunched over a pile of blue prints. He either didn't care or didn't hear her come in, he continued to scribble on a post it, looking up occasionally to check the schematics of the blue prints.

"I thought you and Sammy were supposed to be done with this part." She said, disappointed at what he was writing. Apparently he was planning out another escape plan.

Without looking up, Jack replied. "It's like my father said before he killed my mother; if you need something done, you've got to do it yourself." He let out a giggle as he continued to scribble down notes.

Jeannie looked at him, perplexed. His dark sense of humor and demeanor was getting a little wonky… dark, and wonky.

She let out a deep breath as a wave of nausea hit her. She needed crackers and maybe some seven up to ease the discomfort and to keep her from dry heaving all over her husbands hard work. She stared at the ventilation schematics and willed herself to get up and get her crackers and soda.

"You look exceptionally green today, Sugar."

Jeannie looked up and was relieved to see a glimpse of the old Jack. Her Jack. Looking at her with concern in his eyes. It was a breath of fresh air. "It's been a few days, you seem to be getting worse."

She shook her head and instantly regretted it; the movement sent her reeling and had to put her head down on the table. "It'll pass. I work with little kids. They're little germ factories."

He huffed. "Reason number one million and two, why we won't be having kids."

Her stomach dropped at his statement. "Can you please get me some crackers and seven up?" Her question was muffled since her face was pressed atop the cool wood. She heard him chuckle then move toward fridge to get her, her anti nausea snacks.

She must have dozed off for a few moments, because the next thing she knew, she was being lifted up into a pair of arms. She instantly melted into her husbands chest and let out a small breath and inhaled his scent. Cigarette smoke and a hint of cologne. She was sure that if she was blind she could smell him out in a crowd. To her, it was the most beautiful scent in the world.

"Sugar." His voice rumbled and reverberated from his chest.

"Mmm?" She didn't have the energy to reply.

"I don't like it when you're sick." He rested his cheek on top of her head as he headed to their bedroom.

She smiled pitifully. "Me either."

"You need to get better quick. I can't have you puking all over the place." He set her on the bed. "Especially all over my plans."

She snorted and half heartedly took her shoes off and burrowed herself under the covers.

"What the fuck is this?"

Jacks scream jolted her awake.

It was still dark outside, she surmised she had only been asleep for only a couple of hours.

The door to their bathroom exploded open, revealing a very, very pissed off Jack. "Just what in the fuck is this Jeannie?"

She squinted her eyes, the harsh light from the bathroom gave her an instant headache as it spilled into the dark bedroom.

"What are you talking about?" She mumbled and rubbed her sleepy eyes.

Jack held up a thin piece of plastic. "This." He growled and hucked the object at her. "Explain. Now."

She grabbed the object and instantly paled as she focused on it.

The pregnancy test.

Oh. Shit.

"I…" She trailed off. There was no getting out of this. She looked up at him and shivered at the site of him. His emerald green eyes looked as if they were ones of a mad man, his hair was mussed, most of his tendrils were in his face, making him look that more crazed.

"Spit it out!"

She looked down at the test, cursing the positive sign. "I'm pregnant." She whimpered.

A loud crack sounded off, making Jeannie jump and look up at him in time to see him remove his buried fist out of wall. His lower arm was cut and bleeding, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. Blood was dripping down his hand and onto the floor.

He stared at her a few more moments and walked purposefully toward their dresser.

"You know. I knew this was a fucking mistake." He mumbled as he ripped a small duffle bag from beside the dresser, the very duffle bag he had purchased a few days ago to act as a 'go bag' for he and Jeannie just in case shit hit the fan.

Jeannie scrambled off the bed and flipped on the light. "What are you doing?"

He ignored her and yanked open the dresser drawers and blindly grabbed an armful of clothes from her side of the dresser and stuffed the items into the bag, pushed passed her and went straight for the front door, opened it and chucked the duffle out onto the street. He then twisted around and grabbed the now sobbing Jeannie, who had followed him, by the arm and all but dragged her to the door.

"Get the fuck out!" He roared and jerked her forward.

Jeannie planted her feet to the ground in attempt to stay put but Jack's strength overpowered her meager attempt to fight him off. He dragged her across the floor of the living room, tightening his hold on her wrist when she started to flail and pull back, but that only caused Jack to jerk her forward, nearly launching her onto her face if it weren't for the bone crushing hold on her.

"I told you! I fucking told you! No kids, Jean-nie! What are you trying to pull?"

She shook her head furiously. "Nothing! I'm not trying to pull anything. It was a mistake! I didn't do this on purpose! I swear! It was a mistake!"

He grit his teeth in her face and growled. "You've got that right."

She trembled in his grasp. The look in his eyes were murderous, crazed even. "I promise I didn't do this on purpose. My birth control failed! Go! Look in the medicine cabinet!" She screamed, pleading with him. "This isn't my fault! I took my pill!"

"Get the fuck out!" He roared and continued to haul her to the front door.

"No! Jack! Please don't do this!" She cried frantically. "Don't throw me out!"

He shoved her wordlessly out the front door and slammed it shut right before she launched herself at it, screaming and sobbing at the same time. "You can't leave me out here!" She pounded on the door furiously. "Please Jack!"

She knew it was a lost cause, she knew Jack wouldn't yield. How could her loving husband do such a thing?

She laughed through the tears at her last thought.

How the hell could she let this happen?

She was able to get a room at a little motel in the outskirts of the Narrows. Thankfully, Jack shoved her purse into her bag in his furious frenzy, and she just happened to have cash on her to cover at least a weeks expenses until she got paid.
Jeannie was still at a loss as to what she should do. Jack hadn't tried to contact her, which had caused her to slip into depression. For a split second, she had thought about getting rid of the baby, maybe then Jack would take her back. But she quickly rejected the idea. Even though her being pregnant had driven a massive wedge between she and the love of her life, the mere thought of getting rid of a child that she and Jack created, made her sick to her stomach.

She allowed just a few days to wallow in misery and then it was time to man up and take care of herself and the bun in her oven.

The turf war was raging on, which was keeping Jack from his heist plans. That, plus this Jeannie situation wasn't boding well for Falcone's guys, since Jack was immensely pissed off, he wasn't holding anything back when it came to taking out Falcone's thugs.

Things were escalating quickly for the two mob bosses, both weren't about to back down. Which is why Jack was standing in front of a tethered thug who worked for Falcone...who happened to be on Cobblepot's payroll, which threw Cobblepot into a frenzy.

The man, who's name was Josh, was caught in one of Cobblepot's warehouses trying to rig up c4, attempting to blow Cobblepot's recent shipment of cocaine. Josh was caught before he got to finish hooking up the explosives and was hauled to the club so he could be 'questioned.'

Even though Jack was thoroughly pissed to get a call at four in the morning, torturing somebody was just what the doctor ordered. He needed a good ol' fashion torturing to let off some steam. The shoot outs that were becoming the norm, just wasn't doing it for him. He needed blood and gore on his hands.

"At this rate, he's going to run outta blood before he talks." Jack grunted as he wiped the blade of his knife on the sleeve of his shirt.

His boss flicked the ash off of his stogie. "Listen you little twat." He yanked the mans slumped head up by his hair. "You're going to tell me everything you told Falcone, or I'll let Jack give you a Colombian neck tie." He shoved the mans head back and walked back to his seat.

"I didn't tell him anything!"

Jack shook his head. "You honestly think we're going to believe that?" He brought his foot up and placed it on the chair in between his captives legs. "Better start talking, Josh." He leaned on his propped up leg, resting his elbow on his knee.

Josh glared at him.

Jack returned his look with a bored mask, but after a few moments a smile started to spread across his lips. "I was hoping you'd continue to be tight lipped." He pushed the chair with his foot so Josh fell backwards in the chair. "I've got a present for you."

He bent down to make sure the rope was good and tight on Josh, just to make sure he couldn't wriggle free. He then lifted up Josh's shirt and patted him on the head, and let out a maniacal giggle at his confused and scared look.

Jack sauntered over to a rolling cart that housed his many torture devices and grabbed a bucket and a small blow torch and placed the items next to Josh. He then went back to the cart and grabbed a box with holes in it.

"Since you, Josh, are a rat," Jack gave him a toothy grin and reached into the box and pulled out a large brown rat. "I thought I'd introduce you to a good friend of mine. Frank," He looked to the rat and then shoved the rodent into Josh's face. "I'd like for you to meet Josh, Frank. You two are going to become quite close."

Josh's eyes went wide as he watched Jack get the bucket and put Frank on top of his stomach and then put the bucket on top of Frank.

"I named Frank after the boss's very first rat." Jack said matter of factly. He then lit the blow torch and squatted next to Josh. "Rats are slippery little suckers. They're masters of escape, especially when under duress." He placed the blow torch over the top of the bucket and after a minute the bottom of the metal buckets started to turn a glowing red and almost instantly, Frank's panicked squeaks were heard, and seconds after that, Josh started to scream frantically.

Jack pulled the blow torch away from the bucket. "You see Josh, rats, such as Frank, will do anything to escape a dangerous situation to save their furry little necks." He squinted at Josh and pinched both sides of his face to get Josh's undivided attention. "Are you paying attention Josh? This part is important." He squeezed his cheeks together and shook his head when he was satisfied that he was listening. "Frank will start to dig and chew his way through his only way out of that hot bucket… which I'm sure you've already figured that part out, is your stomach."

He grinned again and put the flame back on the bucket for a few beats and removed it when both Frank and Josh's screams hit a high octave. "So, how's about you tell us what you told Falcone, and I'll put Frank back in his box?"

Josh nodded furiously. "Yes!"

"Then talk! And if I think you're holding out or lying, I light the bucket up again."

"Ok!" Josh screamed through agony and tears. "He paid me to tell him where you hide your shipments!"

Cobblepot let out a pissed off growl. "Which ones do you know about?"

"O-o-Only two. The warehouse you guys caught me in and the one off of Sicero street." He cried out.

Cobblepot furrowed his bushy brows and looked down at Josh. "You ain't lyin' to me, are you, you little cunt?"

"NO!" Josh screamed.

"Are you sure? I know Jacky is just dying to warm up that bucket again." He jabbed Josh with his ever present cane.

"I swear! Those are the only locations I know about! He wanted me to blow them both up tonight!"

Cobblepot looked to Jack. "I think he's tellin' the truth, Jacky-boy."

Jack grunted and looked down at Josh. "Is there anything else we should know?"

He took a jagged breath and nodded. "You all should watch your back. Falcone is going for family." By now, Josh was on the verge of sobbing. The pain that Frank had inflicted and was still inflicting off and on during their conversation, was unbearable.

"What do you mean, he's going for family." Jack questioned.

Josh shuddered as Frank started scratching at the bucket. "He said he's finding out who all Cobblepots closest workers significant others are and he's gonna break each and everyone of them."

Cobblepot took a puff of his cigar. "Is that supposed to scare us?"

Josh cried out in pain. "I don't know!"

"Go on then." Cobblepot motioned to Jack. "I'm finished with him.

Jack stood up from his squatting position and removed the bucket from Josh's stomach. Frank, who was pissed off and dripping in Josh's blood, hissed at Jack. He merely swiped Frank up, narrowly missing Franks sharp teeth. He then tossed him back into the box and handed him over to another one of Cobblepot's bodyguards who looked like he was going to pass out, either from being handed a box with a bloody rat or the gore that laid just a few feet away from him.

Josh's stomach had three holes, one of which was the size of a baseball, which gave them all a good view of Josh's insides.

Usually, Jack would have a little more fun with his victims. Maybe patronize them or make fun of their demise. And even though he felt a little better, he was tired. And still pissed the hell off because of his wife. He was not in the mood to draw this out any longer. He wanted to go back to bed… and maybe have some pie… or maybe have pie and then go to bed.

The only thing standing in his way of the two things he wanted most at that moment was the man writhing in pain on the floor.

He pulled out his glock .45 and shot Josh in between the eyes and turned Cobblepot without so much as a blink of an eye. "If you don't' need anything else, I'd like to go back home."

Cobblepot looked at Josh's prone body and then back to Jack. "Sure Jacky. Good job, as always."

Jack nodded and headed towards the door.

"And keep an eye on your wife, Jacky. I don't want to get a phone call that one of Falcone's men got a hold of her. I actually like the bird."

Jack, not wanting to pick a fight with his boss, merely nodded in acknowledgment and then left the club to go get some pie to take his mind off of bank heists and his wife that betrayed him.

But that was easier said than done… did he really care if Falcone's men got a hold of her? His reactionary answer was, No. And that just pissed him off even more so. If Falcone's men got ahold of Jeannie, it certainly would make his life way easier. Take all that responsibility from him; no wife, no problem… no kid, no problem.

He rubbed his face briskly and growled.

Pie wasn't going to help him this time.