A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. Life :/ Thanks so much for reading thus far and enjoy!
"Why so serious?" the Joker's giggling voice grated on my every nerve. Why so serious? Did he really have the nerve to ask me that? My dad …
"Fuck. You." The manic giggles scratched through my ever consciousness. The news caster had already moved onto another topic. A paraplegic bunny to be exact. I didn't know whether to be insulted or awestruck. Was I that unimportant to be shadowed by a bunny? Or was kidnapping, murder and crime just that common in Gotham city? The bunny was cute … "What do you want?" His greasy nails dug into my arm as he watched the poor bunny scuttle in a little cart and he messed with the handle of his knife. That damned knife – as long as he had it out I kept an eye on it.
"Where'd you get the, ah, scars?" I flinched as he tapped my wrists with the knife, completely ignoring my question. The scars were vertical and nasty. They had been stitched by hand and the scar tissue was rough and sensitive to prove it. I did my best to pull down my sleeves and hide them. Too many awkward questions – like right now. My fingers played with the ugly scar tissue.
There had to be something against this in the Geneva Convention. Did I even fall under that? I wasn't technically with the CIA as of now. Completely alone. I hadn't known the feeling until now. I pulled at the cuffs a little, wincing at the shot of pain that shot through my arms as the wire prodded my artery. One wrong movement and I'd be dead – bleeding slowly to death in some moldy basement … alone. "Langley knows I'm here!" Lies – lies called to anyone that would listen … the camera twitched a little at the jerk of my head. "They're already working on an extraction and this will all be over!" Fuck. Pain shot through my arms again.
I screamed as two *"silenced" gunshots whizzed by my head. "Will you shut up already?" Andy leaned against the doorframe with a pistol, adjusting the muffler. In my opinion, he looked more like a gangster than a covert operative.. He twisted the gun sideways and shot once more at the camera. Satisfied the camera wasn't recording anymore, he pulled down the handkerchief that covered the lower half of his face."
"What …"was this some hallucination? Had I lost that much blood?
"Kinsley was having a hissy fit over you," that was the only explanation he offered. I was still in shock. They actually did still care about me. Amazing … Andy rushed over to my spot in the hard metal chair. "Shit." He examined the razor wire. "Fucking assholes …" After a few moments he met my gaze, "This is going to hurt like a bitch …"
"What? Didn't you bring wire cutters?" I made an attempt to pull my hands as far away from possible, but was only rewarded with another burst of pain.
"Bit down on this," he pulled off his belt and slipped it into my quivering mouth. Tears stung the open wounds on my cheeks. He messed with the wire a bit, pulling the bottom away from any major arteries. The pain that shot through my hands was unbearable as the wires dug into the top of my hand, but that was only the start. "Okay, pull." I hesitated for a fraction of a second. My screams muffled into the belt and pain tore through my hands. If not for the belt my tongue would have been on the floor with Andy – I had aimed a good kick to his gut in my pain.
Blood poured down my wrist, and the pain hadn't stopped after even after the wires were removed. A couple gunshots rang from upstairs over my muffled apologies. "Ignore them," Andy grunted out, recovering quickly."One more time …" This time he maneuvered himself out of the range of my feet. "One … two … three …"
"Probably the same place you got yours," The Joker dug a nail into the raised scar tissue, earning a hiss from me. I tried to jerk my hand back, but couldn't. His leather hand gripped mine and the knife twitched a little bit.
"And … where exactly do you think I, ah, got my scars?" I felt my lips twitch a little. It was a better response than I was expecting. And a smart one at that. The hand digging into my shoulder and the knife pressed into the back of my hand was a lot better than him pinning me down to the couch again.
"I don't know," I managed as much of a shrug as I could and eyed the news again. They were talking about a drug recall, apparently the Scarecrow had poisoned part of a shipment. "Pissed off the wrong people?" The blade twitched against my hand again … was I right? Again it brushed against my hand, following the jagged lines of scar tissue. Slowly an escape plan formed in my head.
"Is that what happened to you?" His dark eyes captured mine. He was pushing, trying to get the story out of me. The man was smarter than I gave him credit for, and I already gave him a lot of credit. I turned my hand palm up slowly, letting my fingers brush his leather covered ones.
"You don't like it when people ask about your scars, do you?" My fingers traced numb circles on his palm, particularly around his thumb. The pressure point made his hand relax, if ever slightly.
"I'm, ah, not asking about me," his voice was rough, serious. The dark brown orbs bore into mine His hand loosened just a little more.
Several things happened at once. I felt my hand close around the blade at the same time that he pushed me, yet again, onto the back of the couch. The blade never made it securely into my hands, instead, it ricocheted across the room, landing somewhere behind me. Without his knife pressed against me, it was a lot easier to maneuver. I brought my knee up, the grunt and manic giggle told me I had made my mark. One arm remained my face, protecting it and my neck. The other battled with the Joker's face. My hand fought off the purple gloves the best I could. Another aimed kick to his groin loosened all of his defenses.
I shot over the top of the couch; landing unceremoniously sprawled on the ground. My back hurt and my wrists hurt but I shot up. The Joker was had already recovered and was stalking towards me. When I reached the door my blood ran cold.
Locked. Of course the door was fucking locked. I didn't notice the shiny padlock in my original assessment of the room. That would have been smart. "Nice try, dolly …" There was a glint of silver in the corner of my eye. The knife. How the hell did I forget about the knife? I felt like an idiot. His voice was close … closer than I wanted it to be. But it wasn't close to the knife, yet
Abandoning the nearly unbreakable padlock, I dived for the knife … and landed at the Joker's feet. The knife had been removed from my reach the moment I dived. The scream that rang through the room wasn't mine. It couldn't have been, but it was. The scream was mine. The fear was mine.
I scuttled on my back as far from him as possible before turning over. I took a few steps on my hands and knees and then stood up, tripping and landing on the bed. "Where exactly … do you, ah, do you think you're going to run to, dolly." I don't know what disturbed me more. The Joker stalking toward me with a knife or how calmly he spoke to me. Like we were discussing reality TV shows.
I made a dive off the bed, but I was stopped by the Joker. The man moved with inhuman speed, I swear on my life. He held my arms in both of his hands and pushed me back down onto the bed. This time he placed his legs in between mine. "No, ah, cheapshots this time."I wriggled as much as he allotted me to, but he pressed more weight onto me. His elbows pressed into my chest and his hands kept my wrists by my head. The more I tried to get free the harder he pushed onto my chest. My head was still pounding from my earlier migraine and I felt the dizziness set in. The Joker dragged his knee up so it was pressing against my stomach. My screams and protests turned into dry heaves as my stomach attempted to puke itself out. "Why so serious?" My vision blurred and I could hear my ribs cracking under his pressure. A little bit harder and I gave into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.
A/N: Fifty points if anybody knows the movie I got the idea for her scars from! I'm pretty fucking twisted, but not that much. Clue: it has nothing to do with this story. At all. I figured the Joker would be curious about scars that are just as interesting as his. Review, fave, put the story on alert … Love you all!
*anyone that has ever shot a gun with a muffler or heard a silenced gunshot, know that the term silenced is a long shot. It doesn't break your eardrums, but still …