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: Another one done. Whoo! It's kinda long. R&R whether you like it or hate it.
Queen Takes Pawn
by Syrenia
Chapter Twelve - Catalyst
Two days later, Crow and Chelsie were left to their own devices again. The Clown had vaguely mentioned something about leaving a scene for the police as a little warning clue.
Also, he had deemed her worthy to traverse his hideout freely - probably in thanks of the little Harvey Dent hint - and left the bedroom door unlocked, ordering his henchmen to let her go free.
Of course, he warned her at knife point that should she run off, he would find her and bring her back.
This newfound freedom led to her current situation which was knowingly being monitored by the Clown who had returned from his venture.
Crow smirked up at the muscled thug, "Why not spend a little time with Crow, daddy? You're workin' reeeal hard for such a slave-grinder. You need some time off for some fun, and I'm the funnest thing around, sugarcube."
The man chuckled, hand resting to the wall beside her, pinning her there as if he had all the power.
She smiled her best seductive grin, attempting to lure him in for the pounce - the final kill where she got him hooked.
"Who's ta say tha Boss won't find out, girlie?" he questioned, looking intrigued for the answer.
"'The Boss'," she said in mock allegiance with air quotes, "is not around, honey bunny, and he said somethin' about not being back for a few hours when he left."
She conveniently left out the parts about how he left a long time ago and how his exact words were that he "probably" wouldn't be back for a few hours. More conveniently, she didn't inform him that said boss was watching.
The man bought it, too; she could tell from the lust-driven look in his eyes.
"You really think you can handle me, sweetheart?" he asked in what she assumed was his attempt at sounding sexy, but he only sounded slightly drunk.
She gauged him quickly, summing up his particular needs and replying accordingly.
"I'm a big girl, daddy," Crow assured him, then threw on the innocent, pleading eyes. "But try not to hurt me up too bad, sugar, 'cause I'm delicate."
He bought it with a feral grin, the hand on the wall moving to bury into her brown tresses.
The Joker watched them darkly, listening to the words exchanged as he tossed around his favored knife.
'My Crow. My playful, playful Crow,' he thought, watching her visage intensely. 'Doesn't want him. Doesn't need him. Manipulate. Cat and mouse.'
The thug's hand left the wall to delve into her hair, the clown releasing a low growl, hand gripping the handle of his knife tightly until his knuckles were a ghostly white.
Crow wrapped her arms around the thug's neck, hopping up and wrapping her legs around his waist in one swift, fluid motion.
His hands immediately fell to her hips in compliance, his coffee-scented breath hitting her nose in waves.
It was better than most men's breaths at least.
"Take me wherever you want me, babycakes," she hissed and purred, inviting him to do as he saw fit with her.
Looking for the closest spot of some creature comfort, he took her to the beat up couch, actually placing her back to the seats with care.
He was kind of different - kind of weird for a thug.
Crow liked it, but knew the Joker would probably kill him before they got anywhere near removing the confinement of their fabrics.
'Why do you do this, Crow? Why do you let the Joker kill off his men like this, all because of you?' Chelsie asked worriedly, finally intervening.
'Sweetheart, it's pretty damn funny, and I'm waitin' to see what J'll do when he can't take it anymore. He's actin' reeeeal patient, though...' replied Crow, almost irritated that the Ace of Knaves hadn't simply turned on her yet.
Meanwhile, Joker's man crawled over her on the creaky couch, Crow's intense and inviting gaze never leaving his hazel pools.
'You want that psychopath to be pissed at you?!' screamed the host, completely flabbergasted.
'I want him to think he's not in love with us, ya know?' asked Crow impatiently.'It's all a part of my master plan, sweetheart. Once the clown sees we're no angel to obsess over, he'll set us free, 'cause I know he can't kill us. He doesn't got any empathy, but he's got the desire to keep us around for the sheer entertainment we readily supply.'
'So sit back, sweetheart, and let me work my magic,' Crow said with finality in her tone.
Before the thug could start off with the desired kiss to her lips, he was torn away, thrown aside and promptly shot in the head all in a matter of seconds.
Crow snapped exaggeratedly, the Clown watching her with a guarded gaze.
"That one would've been a good ride," she lamented with a pout.
Her eyes then rolled skyward as she shrugged, "Guess I should have told him when you left."
Crow giggled, hopping up from the couch and strutting off like she owned the place, and she practically did with the Joker wrapped around her little finger.
The Joker watched her strut off into the hall carelessly as he put away the shotgun.
He looked back at the bloody mess. If he kept shooting his men like this, he'd be out of thugs pretty quick according to how many times Crow got "playful."
A few days later - how many days it was slipping past Crow/Chelsie - the Joker went out again. He yet again vaguely explained his errand, saying it was to kill the Mayor, although he added that the Mayor might not actually die. He had then muttered that he was sort of counting on that outcome.
Crow didn't question him; she wasn't concerned with his goals and day-time outings. The only thing that concerned her were his nighttime errands. Nighttime was, after all, when the big, bad Bat came out of its cave.
In his absence, she picked a naive thug and seduced him and repeated the process until the Clown came back and found them, killing his henchman.
Still, the Joker didn't break and Crow wondered when he finally would.
A day later, the Joker found his bird girl with a thug again, repeating the process of killing another one off.
Finally annoyed enough to take the situation into his own hands, he had called her from her room and into the nearby "living room" of sorts where all his men had been gathered.
All the men took a collective step back when Crow entered the room.
Left on his own, the Joker was more likely not to kill a thug, but if one so much as looked at Crow the wrong way, they'd be shot to hell.
Crow giggled at their pallid faces, rocking on her heels before them; she knew what the Joker was doing and was happy he was finally taking some kind of action. It meant she was breaking him down, or so she believed.
"No one wants to play with Crow?" she asked with a saddened tone, making puppy-dog eyes at the thugs.
With careless abandon, she danced around them, flaunting her power by proxy of the Joker's possessive attitude.
"Which one, ah... which ones do you like, dollfac-e?" the Joker finally asked, cheerful at the prospect of getting them all out of the way and pulling out a gun.
The men all froze, terrified to be the unlucky bastard she chose.
Crow crooned as she danced about them, "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe..."
One of the men just broke down, "Come on! Stop killin' us off, you crazy bitch! I can't take it no more!"
Crow skipped over to the crying man, then side-stepped and pointed at him, "I like this one!"
One, two, three, and he was dead with a gunshot to the head.
The brunette looked down at the mess, tsking.
"They all bleed so much," she almost chided the dead man's body, Crow only saying it to elicit fear in the men that she was crazier than they thought the Joker to be.
She looked around, humming a made-up tune, then shrugged defeatedly, "I like them all. They're all so fun!"
The Joker smiled as he watched her happily dance out of the room, heading back to their bedroom through the hall.
When she was out of his sight, he looked around at his men.
"Touch her, boys-uh... and you get a bulle-t to the hea-d," he finally outwardly warned, getting tired of having to waste his men, especially when she could always pick out the best ones.
Waving his gun to emphasize the point, he turned on his heel and stalked after Crow.
He hid away the weapon before walking into their shared room, finding her on the bed.
"Crow, Crow, Crow," he muttered, licking his lips, shaking his head. "You just can't-uh stop playin-g with them, hm?"
"I could, if I reeeeally wanted to," the woman confessed with a smile. "But they're sooo much fun!"
Within their brain, Chelsie sighed, resigned to this foolish game; nothing could deter Crow from her plans, however useless they were proving to be.
Crow, on the other hand, realized the Joker was wearing down; she could see it in his eyes.
He walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of the foot of it, leaning his arms against his knees.
"Why can't you just come to me for tha-t, hm?" he asked, running a hand through his greasy hair.
"I like variety," she explained simply with a little shrug as she casually picked up a magazine on the nightstand. "It's the spice of life."
When he finally turned around and ripped the magazine away, throwing it across the room, Crow grinned up at him excitedly.
This was the fit she was looking for.
"Listen," he hissed, pouncing forward and pinning her in her sitting position. "You. Belong. To me."
"Stop toying around, hm? Stop playin-g," he ordered, growling as he looked down at her. "I don't like it, sweetie."
"Bu-t," he added, slipping away to sit beside her at the edge of the bed, "you won'-t listen... and I can't hur-t ya... so I'll just, uh.. have to keep killing 'em 'till you do."
Crow sighed, mentioning, "You used to hurt me. Why can't you hurt me anymore?"
She looked at him expectantly.
He grinned, staring off ahead of himself, "Love ya too much, angel fac-e. I don'-t want you dy-ing on me, or running away-uh. I nee-d ya."
Truth be told, it was the prior scare of almost having killed her that changed his methods.
Turning his head, the Joker looked into her eyes, "You're my thir-d obsession, sweet cheeks. You're my catalyst."
Crow blinked, repeating questioningly, "Catalyst?"
"Yeah, petit ange," returned the clown, moving to his side of the bed then looking back ahead as he crossed his legs and entwined his fingers behind his head. "You ignite everythin-g."
"From the moment-uh that I saw ya in the videosss, I knew you were per-fec-t," he admitted, slipping out his beloved knife to toy with.
"Perfect for what?" she asked exasperatedly, sighing deeply.
Getting clear answers out of him took an act of congress, which was an ironic statement in relation to an anarchist.
"A per-fec-t reason," he clarified, as if it made anything clear to the brunette beside him. "I never, uh... knew I needed the kinda motivation you give a guy, babydoll."
Crow let her head fall back, striking the wall, "A reason for what exactly?"
"A reason... to change the worl-d," he finally answered directly, looking over to her with a grin.
Her eyebrow quirked as she looked at him, the clown laughing at her expression which he found cute.
When he stopped cackling, his head fell back as he watched her, "I'll change the worl-d for ya."
Crow blinked at him, then looked forward, contemplating all he'd said.
For someone like the Joker, saying all of that was like confessing his eternal love in the most romantic of ways. Yeah, for the Joker, this would be as romantic as he could get.
Surprisingly, when the weight of his words hit her, she felt a warmth in her chest she'd never felt before.
Crow suddenly felt guilty for making him watch her traipse about with all his thugs.
She hadn't thought the Joker capable of strong feelings for anyone, but he apparently really did have them for her and her host.
It wasn't fairy-tale love - it wasn't even normal love - but it was a kind of love he had invented, much like he invented his persona from one minute to the next.
And, apparently, he was actually dedicated to it.
He may haven been possessive, obsessive and jealous, but she could now confidently say he loved her, and despite herself, that actually meant something to her.
But did she love him? Or did she love her Scarecrow and his Jonathan?
She was dedicated to her Scarecrow, but she admired the Joker.
Why was love so damned complicated?