Disclaimer: Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot is also mine, except for anything from TDK.
A/N: Woo! Another one! Enjoy. Review, if you like. It's longer than usual.
Also, I know it's weird to see the Joker think he's in love. Most people only write him in a way where he always hurts the one they make him love, too. I didn't want to just do the same old thing, so I made her some kind of obsession.
Besides, that's the only way that interested me enough to keep writing. Seeing the same way over and over gets mighty old, and I'm just the kind of person to go outside the box.
Queen Takes Pawn
by Syrenia
Chapter Ten - Playful
That night, the Joker stayed with Chelsie and her Crow, now lying beside them in his bed, his jacket and vest off and lying over the back of a nearby chair, shoes also discarded.
Beside him, the two personas in one body slept peacefully, back turned to him as he lie on his back, hands behind his head with fingers entwined as he stared up at the purple ceiling, thinking about the woman beside him.
She wasn't like the others, and there had been others. He obsessed over them for a time without any sexual facet to his fun until he felt no longer amused by their twisted desires for him, their time with him never lasting that long.
He knew how to pick women who were secretly fucked up enough to be drawn to his charismatic charm and pulled into the excitement of living beside him, a mad dog, regardless of how they scrambled to get away when the reality became too much for them to bear or when they themselves were hurt.
All of them had wanted to know the story - the one behind his Chelsea grin - his Glasgow smile.
Not that he told any one of them the truth. Had he ever told someone the truth?
Probably not; it was all multiple choice for others.
Chelsie and Crow, however, were vastly different from those easily broken women whose minds were all too effortlessly corrupted, and who screamed in terror at his actions, yet wondered in their pretty little heads of his sob story - the events that led him to become who he was or who he kept reinventing himself to be.
No, Chelsie and Crow were not like them at all. The pair never asked those annoying personal questions because they lived in the here and now, not wondering uselessly over the why's and wherefore's, and he liked that.
And beautifully enough, they were already fucked up to a 'T' before he ever met them; he didn't have to twist Crow's mind to get her to think like him, and no matter what he did, Chelsie wouldn't be a terrified, broken doll at any violent act he committed.
Maybe pissed off, as tonight had gone, but not terrified.
Chelsie was far too strong to quiver where most women would be at the point of a breakdown. She didn't fear the idea that he could kill her at any minute. She believed he could, yes, but she didn't fear it. Not that she wanted to die, though. No, she had her Crow who had her plans.
Chelsie knew the fact of the matter was that individuals died every day and she could join the ranks at any moment. Why live in terror? Why be so serious? Instead, she went along for whatever ride life threw at her like a good little soldier, the perfect host for the rambunctious, wild and moody Crow.
The one thing he wanted to influence in Chelsie, however, was the fact that she didn't seem to enjoy anything too much, whereas her counterpart loved to laugh and smile carelessly, even in the face of her own suffering.
Sometimes he felt like hurting Chelsie until she built up an immunity to the pain.
But truth be told, he was afraid to hurt Chelsie too much.
It all stemmed from the fact that he did not want her attempting to leave him.
If he harmed her too much, she would find a way to leave; of that, he could be sure.
She was smart - or at least her Crow was - unlike those other girls who made useless, panicked attempts to flee even in the face of their morbid curiosity of the mind of someone they considered completely mad.
Chelsie and Crow knew better; he wasn't crazy, he was just ahead of the curve.
But Chelsie didn't seem impressed by it as Crow was, which both annoyed and intrigued the clown. It was almost as if she knew better - that she had figured out the long-sought meaning of life and wasn't impressed with his "crusade."
It was either that, or she was on a whole new level of apathy that made the illusion of total peace with oneself and the world around them.
Crow was easy to figure out, but Chelsie was an enigma to him.
He really liked the idea that there was someone in Gotham whom he couldn't read like a cheap, drugstore novella. And when he thought he was beginning to figure her out, she flipped the game upside-down. (Case in point, he thought she was completely docile, but she had a tantrum earlier.)
Ocassionally, she read like a Lewis Carroll book of the Alice In Wonderland variety.
At other times, she was more Mark Twain on acid with a twist of nihilism, just like The Adventures of Mark Twain from year nineteen eighty-five.
Then sometimes she seemed content to act like something you'd see from Wes Craven.
Oh, she was fun. She was definitely fun.
Chelsie sat on the bed of her new room, flipping channels on the flat screen TV.
The Joker had left early that morning, telling her he was 'going out on business', the time now being in the afternoon near one o'clock. Luckily, she'd had breakfast, though she was now hungry once more. Service around her current locale really sucked.
Flipping onto a news station, she gasped to see footage of the Ace of Knaves talking to a man dressed up like Batman.
Through the thick fog that covered her mind, she heard enough to know that people were going to start dying every day until the real Batman revealed his secret identity to everyone, including the Joker.
Her thoughts swirled, but were suddenly pulled to the door after a loud beep resounded, signaling that the lock had been deactivated.
Coming into the room was one of the Joker's men, Chelsie blinking only to be replaced by Crow, the woman slowly giving a sly, seductive smile.
"Boss called," the man said in a gruff, deep voice, ignoring her grinning lips. "Sent me t' check on ya - see if ya needed anythin'. So do ya?"
"Well, sugar, other than some lunch since I am seriously starvin', I wouldn't mind some company... if ya know what I mean," she purred and cooed in her gritty tone, winking up at him as she stared into his baby blues.
He stiffened, "Don't think th' Boss would like me touchin' his woman..."
Crow pouted cutely, forcing a longing look to convey from her stormy eyes.
"Boss doesn't need to know about it, now does he, sugarcube?" she asked softly, seduction in her tone. "We'll be done before he even comes back, and if you like what you get, we can keep on meeting up all convenient-like, babycakes."
"And I know you'll like what you'll get, honey bunny," added the brunette temptingly, one finely curved eyebrow quirked.
He slowly grinned, lifting his leg without turning around and kicking the door shut.
'Crow, what are you doing? Are you crazy?' demanded a worried Chelsie. 'The Joker could be back any moment! Then we'd be in for it!'
Crow cackled in their mind as the big, muscle-bound man strode over, 'You really don't get it, sweetheart. The Joker, even though it's decidedly a new gig for him, isn't the kind of psycho that ever blames the object of his affection of wrong-doin' when it comes to foolin' around with other guys. He'd think the big, burly idiot was to blame, even if he heard me seducin' the poor sucker.'
The big, burly idiot in question unceremoniously striped down to the bare essential pair of interestingly plaid boxers.
"Ohh, plaid," Crow purred, making herself look excited. "Not many men can pull off plaid, but, baby, you do it well."
He merely chuckled at the compliment, going over to the bed and crawling over her body.
By now, Crow was down to only her panties, the burly idiot who said his name was Joe - imagine that! such a plain, average, boring name! - doing some dry grinding against her hips while fondling her breasts.
She acted like his moves were the best she'd ever felt, exaggerating any good feelings his massaging hands and grinding hips gave her.
After all, the most pleasurable place to stroke a man was his ego.
Crow knew that well; it had always calmed down her adorable Scarecrow when she told him how smart he was or how he was just so much stronger than her, holding all the power.
That's what men wanted to know most, Crow had learned; they wanted to know they held all the power in the relationship.
Only men that lived normal, lawful lives or people like Batman would want to know their mates felt things like happiness and bliss from being with them.
Men like big, burly Joe here just wanted power and praise.
Just having a vagina, she realized, was her greatest asset around these thugs and criminal masterminds.
Right now, she was coaxing off Joe's red and green plaid boxers, eventually getting the constraining fabric away from his at attention manhood.
She promptly, with a light touch, grazed her long nails over his shaft, the big man shivering from obvious pleasure.
Oh, how she loved to make even the biggest, toughest ones quake from a simple touch.
The truth, she reasoned, was that she had all the power.
Her hand clasping around his dick, she went to work at jacking him off, careful not to scratch with her long nails.
All the while, he groaned and moaned, and as she predicted in her head from the start, he didn't last long as she seemed to know every inch that elicited the most pleasure.
But before he could hit his release, she released him with a plop, the man groaning in protest.
Startling them both, however, a familiar beep resounded in the room, Joe's head turning to the door in terror.
"Oh, shit," was all he could say before the door opened.
The Joker stood there, and upon seeing one of his men on top of his woman, he did not look very happy.
But Crow simply smiled, not minding that they were caught in the least.
Surprisingly, the Joker had managed to jerk the burly idiot off of a topless Crow, dragging him out by a mere fistful of his short hair until they made it to the hallway.
Meanwhile, Crow simply got dressed, clasping her bra, slipping on her tops, then getting up and tugging on her black jeans.
All the while, she listened to the two.
"Can explain, Boss!" Joe shouted frantically, stammering before spitting out his explanation. "Woman tried t' seduce me!"
The Joker had said nothing to that accusation, Crow noted, before terrible screams filled the bedroom and hall.
She poked her head out, looking to the dead end of the hall to the right.
Apparently, the clown had haphazardly removed Joe's dick with nothing but a pocketknife, her nose scrunching with disgust. She hadn't realized that was even possible in such short a time.
Finished with his work, he then pulled out a gun, promptly shooting Joe in his big, thick skull, killing him off and ending his gut-wrenching screams of agony.
"You didn't have to go all Lorena Bobbit on his dick, ya know," Crow commented, looking at the bloody mess and clicking her tongue with a shake of her head.
She then slipped back into her room, plopping on the bed with a satisfied smile, crossing her legs and clasping her hands behind her head.
Crow was pleased as punch with the little bit of action she'd gotten before the Clown Prince interrupted her fun, her foot shaking to an unheard beat as she sighed contently.
The Joker's hand that held the gun still in the air finally fell.
'She seduced him. My Crow. She was jus-t playing. She always plays,' the clown assured himself, pocketing his shotgun. 'She never loves 'em, uh.. no, no, no. She loves me. She real-ly loves me.'
In a happier mood at his own reassuring thoughts, he headed to the bedroom and found Crow waiting on the bed patiently.
He shut the door and locked it. The mess would be dealt with later.
"I saw the video you made on the news," Crow mentioned conversationally. "I almost felt sorry for the Batman-wannabe."
"I oughta watch the news more often; it's finally gettin' interestin'," she added with an amused giggle.
The Joker merely grinned, taking off the purple jacket of his suit and throwing it over a nearby chair.
"It's just, uh... beginning, dollfac-e," he assured her before plopping onto the bed beside her, Crow laughing as the bed jostled her around from his impact.
He kicked off his shoes effortlessly, back leaning against his pillows which were propped up against the wall.