My mother used to say that losing your mind was another way of giving up.
My mother gave up twelve years ago.
Now she sings to herself inside of a padded cell in Arkham Mental Hospital, and I visit her every few months. Every time I see her, she looks more disheveled and mentally disjointed than before. She used to at least notice when I entered the room, now she doesn't even hear when I call her name. She looks into the distance, smiling, lost in some wonderful fantasy. I like to hope that I might be part of that fantasy, along with my younger brother, and my father. But there is no way to know.
"So, she has a sentimental side." I jump at the sound of his voice, and I turn to see his painted face. He smiles at me as he leans in the doorway. "Who knew?" I roll my eyes and look back at my mother, who seems to be staring at him. Her eyes are filled with fear, and she is backing away from him. I know she can't see or hear him, it's impossible, but it still bothers me.
"What do you want?" I ask, sneering at him. I just want him to leave, I hate being watched when I'm with my mother.
"We have to go, Babydoll." He says calmly. I turn to glare at him, and he's smiling knowingly.
"What did you call me?" I ask. I hate pet names, and knowing him it'll take everything I have to make him stop calling me that.
"Babydoll." He says, grinning. "I like it for you. You know, in the light you're cute as a button, but in the dark you're just scary. Creepy really." I smirk at him, and tilt my head to the side.
"Nice name, but don't get used to it." I say, standing and walking toward him. I get as close to him as possible without touching, and I hiss my words. "I'm no porcelain doll, clown. And I hate pet names." The next thing I know my back is against the wall, and I feel the cold blade of a knife pressing at my throat.
"I will call you whatever I want to, Babydoll." He says with a smile. Then he smirks and leans in to whisper in my ear, "And you can either call me Joker or Daddy…" He kisses my neck softly, leaving red paint where his lips touch. "It's your choice."
"Fuck you, clown." I hiss in his ear, and knee him in the crotch. He falls to the ground, and I stand over him with a smile. "I'm not your doll, or your puppet." I look at my mother, smiling serenely again, staring at the ceiling. "I'll be in the car." I say as I step over his squirming figure, and leave him to recover on his own.
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The Joker was still angry with me as he drove us to the Gotham Police Headquarters, so he didn't give me any Kevlar before we entered. Instead he hands me a semi-automatic rifle, and offers me a drag on his cigarette. I sneer at him and he shrugs, dropping the half-smoked cigarette on the sidewalk. Then he shoves one of his henchmen through the doors, and begins yelling for everyone to get down. I follow close behind him, carefully avoiding the police's shots by hiding behind two henchmen. I kill three men from the center of the group, then take a bullet to the shoulder.
The shot stings like a bitch. The pain pisses me off, and I shove past the men. I shoot every cop who's still trying to shoot at us. I kill four more cops before they get the message. Finally they are all either dead, or on the floor.
"Alright, douche bags! If you still have any weapons on your person, I suggest you hand 'em over. Believe me, you don't want us to search you!" I yell. I instruct the boys to retrieve the weapons that the cops are holding, and to search anyone who isn't cooperating. One man actually tries to spray mace on one of the guys. I shoot him in the head. "Any more fighters?!" I yell, looking around at the other men in uniform, daring any one of them to make a move. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder.
"Nice job, Babydoll." the Joker wraps his arms around my waist, and rests his head on my shoulder. "You know, I didn't think you'd be quite as useful as…" He trails off, and I feel a sting as he touches the wound on my shoulder. "What happened here?" He hisses, then grabs my gun from me. "You, take care of her! You and you! Come here!" Before I know what's happening, one masked man is tending to my shoulder, as the Joker puts bullets in the two henchmen who had been standing on either side of me.
"What was that about?" I ask as he approaches, and he smiles at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Babydoll, you weren't supposed to get hurt. Those two idiots should have taken better care of you."
"Wait. I wasn't supposed to get hurt?" He nods, and I can't hold back a laugh. "You know, you were kind of begging for me to get hurt when you brought me into this without any Kevlar."
"Well, I thought you needed a little scare since that confrontation earlier." I roll my eyes.
"You're such a child." I say flatly.
"You said it." A deep voice comes from behind the Joker, and the next thing I know he's on the floor. A man dressed all in black is fighting off four henchmen, as the Joker comes at him with a knife. The fight is so disorganized that I can't tell what's happening, until the man in black stands triumphant over the Joker and his men. Then he rounds on me, and approaches me with a dangerous look in his eyes. "You. Who are you?" He demands.
"Me? Haven't you seen the video?" I ask innocently. "I'm the Joker's lovely assistant." I smile jokingly, but he doesn't seem to get the joke.
"You're a murderer." He growls.
"You think I don't know that?" I say with a smirk.
"You're sick."
"Please, tell me something I don't know."
"He doesn't care about you."
"Again, I am already aware." I say, getting bored. "Now, are you going to fight me? Or are you just gonna tell me how horrible I am and leave?"
"I would like nothing more than to take you out." He growls at me, getting a little too close.
"Then do it." I challenge him, as I slip a butterfly knife out of my pocket.
"No."
"What? Why?"
"Because you're not like him."
"You mean, not completely psycho?"
"I mean less humane."
"Aww, thank you. I appreciate the compliment."
"The only reason he hired you, was to have someone else do his dirty work. He could never do what you do."
"I know." I smile knowingly, "He fights me for control, only because he's afraid of me. He knows that the moment I turn on him, he's dead."
"So, what are you going to do?"
"Whatever he asks…as long as he behaves."