Fear
By Zombie-Ta
A Joker X Scarecrow slash.
Don't like it? GET THE FUCK OUT!
Anyway.
Here's a bit of an author's note. The last written chapter was my first fan fiction ever written! I don't really care if you think it sucks but I'd be really pleased to have some creative reviews to go on. I plan for there to be about three or four parts, counting this one and the last one.
Basically this story is taking place sometime after The Dark Knight. The Joker has escaped and is looking to reinvent the formulas that Crane has come up with for his Scarecrow costume to fuck with the population of Gotham in an effort to make Batman come out of hiding.
In all honesty I don't think I'm going to take that plot anywhere, because I mostly just wanted a reason to write slash. Well, yeah. So there's a few more warnings in this one. There's some rape, rather hateful and more violence. So I'd like to warn all of you readers for that. Also, I use lots of profanity, some people make take more offence to this then the gore or the rape. I'd just like to say that the character's dialogue is their own, they do not reflect my own views in anyway.
Disclaimers - have taken liberties with the characters, as most writers do.
I don't own any of the characters in this story, Bob Kane and his wonderful team do.
Let's all thank him for writing such a lovely world with such OBVIOUS gay under tones. Thanks Bob, you rock.
Fear
Chapter Two - Bad Days
Joker looked down at the man shaped thing on the floor of the moving van, up front his two most recent associates drove and argued over Playboy issues and smoked. The smell was hot and sweet in his nose, mixed with the familiar burn of gun smoke that still lingered around him like a fog. That and the wild coppery scent of blood, he inhaled deeply, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "Baaahhhh..." He moaned, bringing his head back down and lifted himself from the floor of the van. He stood in a surfer like manner, holding his balance as the van slipped unnoticed through the streets of Gotham. The Joker walked over to where the body of Scarecrow lay docile and quiet, Joker was captivated for a moment. His green haired head cocking to the left, then the right. His tongue slithered from the soft red pads of his lips to linger on the scars that met with the corners of his mouth. Like a cat stalking a sleeping mouse he was unable to tear his dark brown eyes away from the layers of ripped brown cloth that covered Crane. It was like looking at an unopened birthday present, Joker took a lithe step forward and at the same time slipped a gloved hand into the pocket of his long purple coat. He quickly fished a kitchen knife out, like a well practised magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. The lean man took another step forward, his eyes still locked on the man even if they were burning with insanity just below the surface.
The van rounded a corner hard and the body of Scarecrow rolled bonelessly into the side of the van with a muffled thud. Joker was also slammed into the side of the van, falling into the hard side of the vehicle. His head cracked rudely on the shell, he closed his eyes and reveled in the gentle pain, giving a soft chuckle. George, the slimmer, greasier henchman turned in his seat owlishly and said his apologies to the strange man that had hired him. His eyes were large and green, hands fidgety and restless, he was terrified by the Joker and rightfully so. George knew the things that the Joker had done in less then a month to Gotham three years ago. Joker waved his gloved hand at the hired man, his head turned toward Scarecrow again as he moved toward him. Joker grabbed Crane by the shoulder and rolled him over on his back again, he squeezed experimentally at the man's limb. It was thin, nearly just bone covered with leathery muscle, despite the weight that was added to the man's frame from the costume there really wasn't much to him. Joker gave another soft laughing sigh as he straddled the man around the waist, lowering his center of gravity as not to fall again. He liked the feeling of Crane's small waist between his own lean thighs, which he squeezed gently as he lowered his hand to the top of Scarecrow's hood.
He gave the torn burlap a good tug and Johnathan's head bumped on the floor of the van. "Ohhh..." Joker paused and licked his lips, lingering once again on the corners. "Ohhh... My." He said in a low voice, letting the mask drop out of his hand, forgotten. Johnathan's snowy pale face was out in the open, eyes closed like a sleeping child. His black eyelashes lay thickly on the steep rise of his cheek bones. His skin was in stark contrast to his black hair, still longer and parted in the middle, slightly messy now with blood caked on the right side of his head. Joker slipped his gloved hand under Johnathan's chin and moved his head to the side, the wound had stopped bleeding and a shallow cut and a growing bruise were the only real evidence of the blow that incapacitated the man. He rolled the man's head back to look him in the face, his eyes shifting under the soft white lids, as if in a dream. Joker caressed Crane's neck with out really being aware of what he was doing. Sliding the soft leather of his glove over the sharp bump of his Adam's apple which bobbed gently under his thumb. His own tongue flickered out of his mouth again, pulling his bottom lip into his own mouth to nibble at.
Joker's head swam and he was suddenly in the midst of a memory... But was it a memory? He often imagined things from his past, even if they weren't real, he had a habit of thinking that they were. He couldn't even really remember his own name... Had he even had one? Yes, everyone had a name. However that wasn't the memory, real or fake, that was digging at the back of his rotting brain. A woman, yes she had been beautiful, with thick black hair and pale skin. His own private Snow White to look after and love. "To have... To hold..." he whispered roughly. Not aware that his hand had drifted up and was gently rubbing Johnathan's ear lobe as the other hand clutched harder at his nearly forgotten knife. She had been the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on and he had wanted her so strongly... So purely that he had let nothing stop him. His gloved hand trailed ghostly down the other man's neck, leaving the ear slightly pinkish from the caresses. Alas, no one was pure... Joker squeezed at Crane's soft flesh on his throat and Johnathan moaned in protest, whether from the slight strangulation or the fog that his brain floated in.
Joker looked down as Crane's eyes fluttered, his thick eyelashes lifting just a fraction showing his pale blue eyes. "Boss We're here..." Said the soft voice of George, looking back on the purple back of Joker. There was a slam as Crane's head met the floor of the van again and disappeared below the waves of the waking world. Joker let go of the man's neck and looked a the soft black bruises that his fingers had left on the man's neck. The van jerked to a stop, throwing Joker's upper body onto Crane and pressing the slight bulge that had slowly built in the crotch of the other villain against the flat stomach of Crane. Joker wished fleetingly that the layers of various cloths didn't separate them. He shook his head and stood up, feeling his body pine for the missing warmth of Crane. Joker pushed some stray strands of greasy greenish-brown hair away from his face with one had as he opened the back door of the van, pushing them both open with either hand and slipped the dagger back into his pocket.
"C'mon... Let's - uh..." He licked his lips again, the nervous habit became stronger when he was excited or aroused. "Let's get him... In the baaa-ck." Joker jumped out of the back of the van, feeling the hard gravel of the abandoned warehouse parking lot crunch under his feet. The worn brown leather shoes made no other sound as he walked, limping slightly with his shoulders hunched needlessly. The doors of the old Gotham glass factory groaned open like an old man getting out of bed. The doors were heavy but Joker eased them open, scuffling slightly in the gravel as his two hired hands did their separate work. George had slipped over to the driver's seat and was backing the off white van into the wide warehouse floor. Dale, the bigger of the two, by quiet a bit, had Crane over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Joker lead the bull of a man carrying Crane to another room, an old break room that hadn't been cleaned or used for upwards of thirty years. The dust was thick on the unused panes of glass stacked in corners in chipping piles. There was a table laying tipped over in the corner, as most of the warehouse had been cleaned out of valuables. The remaining furniture was either not there when the factory closed, dragged there by teens on drug or drinking sprees or too ugly to take home. There was only a table and an old useless couch with rats sleeping in the center of his fluffy torn body, a kitchen chair lay in beside the table.
Joker righted the table with one hand, and pushed it haphazardly into the center of the room. It was a light kind of steal, dull with dust. Joker brushed off the table top as he placed the old chair on one side of the table, as if making a seat for dinner. Dale walked into the break room and turned a switch that fired up some of the lights. Several went out with sparkling bangs as they burst spreading little bits of glass everywhere on the far side of the room. Most of it landing on the grimy unused counter tops. Dale looked at the Joker and winced but the boss wasn't looking at him. "Bring... Uh... Bring him over here and lay him on the taaa-ble..." He licked his lips again, his tongue had become hyper sensitive and he felt his heart beating in his chest. Dale did as he was told, not hearing George walk into the room behind him as he lay Crane's light body on the table. It was long enough to old his body, with just his feat hanging off of the edge. Dale chuckled as he got a look at Crane in proper light. The soft shell pink pads of his lips and the thick eyelashes made him attractive, in a feminine way but the light black stubble growing on his jaw line made him look more masculine. For some reason they both worked together creating a strange sort of handsome, some might have described it as ethereal, but Dale wasn't known for his vocabulary.
"He looks like a faggot, don't he boss!" Laughed Dale as George came around the side of the table. "Just look at him!" George looked at Joker, gazing down at Crane. His brows knitted together over the dripping layers of makeup he wore. His dark brown eyes lifted to Dale's face quickly, then back down to the doctor's face. His eyes didn't move under the soft pale flesh of his eyelids, he was deep under from three blows to the head in less the forty minutes. Joker bit the finger of the glove on his right hand and removed the soft leather, extending a hand and feeling for the pulse of the man laying on the table. He moved around for a few stressful seconds until his fingers found the soft pulse of Crane beating against his the naked skin of his index and middle fingers. It was hot and good, Joker licked his lips and felt the soft skin under his hand thump with life. "Is he alive boss?" Asked Dale. The Joker looked up and removed his hand from Crane's throat.
"Get out..." He said softly Dale looked up and then scurried out of the room in an unbecoming way for a man of his height and weight, quickly followed by George, who loped across the room at the bigger man's heals. Joker watched them go, George closed the door behind him and suddenly the room was just his. He looked down at Crane, producing a knife from inside one of the many coat pockets and brought the cold blade to the man's throat. His hand shook, eyes widening and permanent grin widening wolfishly, he brought the blade down and felt the cloth of the Scarecrow costume give. He pealed the layers of cotton and burlap from Crane's thin body, leaving him in a fine gray suit with a blue tie. The costume was tossed in the corner of the small dusty room, landing in a heap. Joker took off his other glove and set them neatly inside his coat pocket as he fished out a pair of cuffs from another. Joker picked up Crane's hands, taking the time to touch the soft skin, almost completely unmarked from hard work with long pale fingers with protruding knuckles. The shackles made hard clicking noises as they closed around the man's delicate wrists, locking them in front of his abdomen... Joker found himself slowly lifting Johnathan's shirt, thinking of the pale unmarked flesh that lay just under the layers of soft cotton, separating it from the Joker's hands. The need to touch and caress the skin burned in him like a white hot flame, but there was also the need to rip and kill and take what he wanted.
Joker forced himself to stop, letting his hand fall from Crane's slim waist, instead pulling the thin submissive body onto the kitchen chair. Joker sat atop the table, feeling it to be sturdy despite it's long time in disuse. Positioning Crane's body in a way that it wouldn't slip off of the chair, Joker lifted Crane's head in his hand and began to clean the blood from the side of the other man's head with a slightly used blue handkerchief. He liked the way Johnathan's chin felt in his hand, the bones just under the baby soft skin, he pressed his thumb into the skin and watched as the unconscious Crane winced under his eyelids. Joker stopped squeezing and went about cleaning the doctor up. With each caress and lick to the soft silk Joker began to taste Crane's blood on his tongue... He found the warm red substance to be sweet... Very sweet.