:) I'm happy to say that I have finished another chapte, and would absolutely love feedback.
Thanks linnie kinda spinnie for becoming my new beta!
And a huge thank you to all of my reviewers! :)
I still don't own Dark Knight... But last night I did have a dream I was in the movie... So that counts for something right?
Anyways, enjoy!
My eyes open, and I feel stiff. I stretch, and realize that I must have fallen asleep again. The good news is that my headache is gone. I sit up, and frown. I feel like I am forgetting something, but I don't know what it is. I remember having the headache, and wondering about the Joker. But I feel like there was something else that I was trying to figure out.
After a few moments, I give up, and slowly get out of the bed. I feel a little dizzy, but it's not overwhelming. I look around, and find myself inside the familiar bedroom that I was in before.
Not the smelly first one, but the nice second one.
I walk over to the bathroom, and gasp when I see myself in the mirror. I belong in a horror movie. My eyes are shallow, and have deep shadows underneath them. My lips are chapped, and pale. My cheeks are thin, and almost creepy looking.
But what's worse is the scab. I must have fallen last night, and a huge gash is trying to heal on the side of my face. It's a jagged thick red line, that runs almost the entire length of my cheek. Tears of sadness overflow, and I look down at the healing scar on my neck. The stitches have fallen out, and its puckered pink line seems to mock me. I cover my eyes with my hands and let the tears flow.
I cry for what my life has become. Fierce shudders rack my body as I try to deal with it. I'm scared of my new face. I'm worried about Bruce and Alfred. I'm worried about Batman. I'm worried that my life will never return to normal.
And worst of all, I'm worried about the Joker.
After a while, the tears decrease in intensity, and I slowly pull myself together. I wipe my eyes, and splash my face with water from the sink.
I never really cry a lot, but when I do, I've figured out that it really is best if I just let it flow. And usually, if I'm lucky, I can let it go and focus. I can't really let this situation go, but I feel that now I can start to move forward.
With a new attitude, I walk through the bedroom, and out the door. I walk down the hallway, and decide to talk with the Joker's men.
When I get downstairs, I find several of them lounging with their feet up, and I put my hands on my hips.
"The Joker wouldn't like that you know." I say.
They look over at me, and I realize how small I am in comparison to even one of them.
"So?" One of them asks. " S'not like he's here anyway."
"But he could come back." I say.
"Nah. If he comes back, it won't be for weeks. He's probably down in Arkham again."
"If?" I ask.
"Well sure he usually gets out. But you heard 'im. He doesn't wanna anymore. They'll probably just kill'im and get it over with." The man states with a snort.
"They wouldn't kill him!" I say.
"Ah? And why's that?" He turns in his seat to stare at me.
"Because... Well."
"That's right. There ain't no reason they won't kill'im. So I guess we could just let you go in a few days if he doesn't come back.." He smiles. "Then again, maybe we won't."
My eyes widen in fear, and the man just laughs as a reaction. I decide I had better just leave or the man might interpret my staying as an invitation for something else.
Instead of going back upstairs, I take a look around the first floor. Behind the staircase is a hallway and I flick a light switch on as I go into it. Have you ever noticed that in scary movies, the girl always goes into a dark room or hallway without trying the lights? Yeah, I'm not going to be that stupid.
I pass several empty offices, and start to think there is nothing interesting down here. Although, I'm not really sure what it is that I'm looking for, so I continue walking.
Toward the end of the hallway, there is a door that stands out apart from the rest. The first thing I notice is the face. Well, it's not technically an actual face, but it looks like one. Two big swirls of black make the eyes, and a crimson slash below them makes a bloody smile.
Surprisingly, I'm not intimidated, or afraid. I go against my better judgment, and walk up to the door. Below the face, my name is scrawled in crimson in little letters.
Lane.
Does The Joker want me to go inside? What did that mean?
I take an uneasy breath, and push the door open. I turn on the lights, and walk slowly inside.
I am in a medium sized room that has the appearance of an office or study. There are shelves along one wall holding various items such as books, jars, and playing cards. Along the back wall there is a small desk covered in a stack of paper, a telephone, and a small lamp.
I walk over to it, and turn the lamp on. Most of the paper is covered in drawings. Insane smiley faces, and elegant swirls cover page after page, and their almost mesmerizing in detail. On every page, the same sentence is written.
Where do you stand?
Stand in what? Is it literal or figurative?
If it's figurative, he may be referring to who's side I'm on. And the answer would be easy. Mine. I just want to get as far away from Gotham as possible, but it doesn't feel like I'm going to get that wish very soon.
If it's literal, than I'm not quite sure how to answer. I'm in a room that I believe is meant for me. The room is in a warehouse where The Joker has assumed his privet throne. Yeah, that answer sounds stupid.
I sigh in frustration, and look down. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, and I'm not sure how I feel about everything that has been going on.
Suddenly, the phone rings shrilly, making me jump. After watching it for several seconds debating, I decide I may as well answer it because it's in the room that had my name on it, so I can answer it if it rings.
"Hello?" I ask, picking up the receiver.
I'm answered by deep, raspy breathing.
"Who is this?" I say angrily. If someone is really trying to prank call The Joker, they are seriously messed up.
"What are you gonna do, girlll?" A deep, terrifying voice asks. "What are you gonna do when they kill him?"
My hands start shaking, and already knowing the answer, I whisper, "Kill who?"
A deep laugh echoes through the receiver that pins me to the floor.
Click.
He has hung up on me.
My world spins, and I'm panicked. I don't know who was on the phone, or how they knew I would be there, but I was definitely the intended recipient.
I turn around, and am about to run from the room when the wall around the door grab my attention. A huge collage of newspaper has been pinned to the wall. I walk closer to get a better look, when I realize that all of the articles look familiar.
They're mine.
Everything from the repetitive obituaries that I write, to my latest article about Batman is there. The only thing I notice that is different is that under the words "Needed, but unwanted." Joker has added his own word.
Wrong.
The word seems to mock me and my entire article. It glares at me from where he has smeared it across the page, and I become angry. Didn't he tell me that the reason he took me in the first place was that he agreed with me? And now he is saying that I'm wrong? Who does he think he is?
I storm out of the room and back into the main area. I look around and get even more upset when I see all of the men still sitting around.
"Why are you even here?" I yell. "Don't you all have your own lives?"
They jerk up at my voice, but settle back down after realizing there's no danger.
"Ah, shut it." One of them says.
"Who said that?" I squint my eyes, feeling on edge. A man stands up and saunters over to me. He is at least six feet tall, and over 200 pounds.
"I did." He growls. "Got a problem with that?"
I glare up at him, seething. My hands ball up in fists, but I don't say anything. The man smiles down to me cruelly and continues, "Yeah. I didn't think so. So why don't you just take your little self back upstairs."
"No." I say. I'm not going to go up to 'my room' like some kid. I'm as much of an adult as these men, and I don't care that I'm in danger by standing my ground.
"Oh?" The man growls, "And why not?" He grabs my hair roughly, and pulls me up to his face.
"Aren't you going to do anything?" I demand. "The Joker is somewhere out there, and you're all just sitting here with your tails in between your legs like cowards!"
"Aww, does the girl miss the bad man? Hmm?" He taunts.
"No! But what is the point of him having you around if you're just going to sit there? What kind of henchmen are you?" I spit.
The man throws me to the ground, and walks away without a word. I pick myself up, and shout, "Fine! Do nothing! See if I care!"
I turn and walk back into the room with the telephone. I look at the papers, and see the words again.
Where do you stand?
I pick up the phone and dial *69. The operator repeats the last number that called the phone, and I grab a pen from the desk and write it down. I then pick the phone back up, and dial the number.
"Yesss?" The voice drawls quietly, sending shivers down my spine.
"They aren't going to kill him." I state flatly.
"Ohh? And what makes you think they won't?"
"Because I'm going to stop them."
He laughs again, and it takes tremendous focus to stay calm.
"Do you know where he is?" I say flatly.
"Yesss."
"Are you going to tell me?"
"I don't think soooo."
"Tell me!" I demand.
"I can see whyyyy, he likes you, girl." He hisses quietly.
"Tell me where he is."
Click.
I throw the phone down in frustration. How was I supposed to get to him if I didn't know where he was?
I walk away from the phone, and glare at the floor. The man on the phone is smart. He knows that even if I did know where The Joker was, it's not like I could get to him. I'm nothing special. I don't know how to do things or get places secretly or agilely.
I look up, and see a side door that I hadn't noticed before. I walk over to it, and open it, finding myself in a closet.
There are about six purple suits on one side, and hanging ties adjacent to them. So this explains why the Joker's suit never looks overly used or dirty. He has more than one.
On the opposite side of the closet, there is a single hanging garment. It is a soft jumpsuit that is purple on one side, and green on the other. It has definitely been designed and created for a female wearer, and it looks about my size.
Could he have had it made for me?
I reach out and touch the soft fabric, and can't help the smile that grows on my face.
Wrong.
I remember the word Joker has written on my article, and I drop the sleeve in disgust. I don't even know why I wanted to find him in the first place. He hasn't done my life any good, so why should I do something good for him? I shouldn't.
I turn away from the outfit, and cross my arms.
"I'm sorry Joker. I'm not going to do this." I whisper. Trying to rationalize with myself.
Besides, he's gotten himself out of prison before right? Why should I bother trying to do anything? Oh right. He's never gone willingly. That's my fault.
A harsh yell pulls me out of my thoughts, followed by a man's scream. It's a unique sound that I'm not used to hearing, and it catches me off guard. It abruptly cuts off, and I leave the closet with my head tilted in confusion.
What's going on out there?
I walk out to the doorway of the office, and poke my head out.
"Hello?" I ask, hesitantly. "Are you guys okay?"
Silence. I get a funny feeling in my stomach, and I walk quietly down the hall.
"Where are you guys?" I ask. "Don't tell me you left me here unguarded. I could escape you know." I say, trying to illicit a response.
I make it into the main room, and at first think it's empty. Then I notice the man who had grabbed me before lying face down on the ground by the table.
"Hey." I say softly. "Are you okay?" I walk over to him and nudge him with my foot.
He doesn't move, and my heart sinks. What happened to everybody else? There were at least seven other men around here when I left ten minutes ago. I look around quickly, and don't see anyone. Fear starts to overwhelm me, and I make my way towards the stairs. My hope is that I can find a door with a lock to hide behind somewhere. It's a slim chance, but I can hope right?
A sinister laugh echoes around the room, and I freeze. It is not The Joker's laugh, but it is dark and sinister in its own way. I turn around, and still don't see anyone.
"Leave me alone." I say, trying to sound tough.
"Ooh... The little girl thinks she's brrrave, doesn't she?" I recognize the voice. It is the man from the phone.
"I mean it." I whisper.
"Ohhh, I'm suuure you do, girl. But then how are you supposed to find him, hmmm?"
"Come out where I can see you!" I order. "Let's talk about this."
I've been trying to find the source of the voice, but to no avail. It seems to be coming from everywhere, and echoing in sinister whispers all around me, making it difficult to track down the origin.
He laughs again, and says, "You don't really want me to come out."
"What kind of assumption is that? If we are going to talk, let me see you." I say.
Hot breath tickles the back of my neck, and I spin around quickly only to find myself alone.
"Where are you!" I shout, making my voice echo around the room.
"Everywhere." He says.
He comes out from behind a large crate about ten yards away. A large cloth sack covers his face, and I can see two holes for eyes, and slits making the wearer look like he is frowning.
I recognize him immediately. As recognizable as The Joker is, the Scarecrow stands out just as much.
"Scarecrow." I breathe.
"Ahhh, yes. The girl is a smart one isn't sheee?" He says, starting to walk in my direction.
I back up slowly, afraid to get too close. His mask is alone is threatening to push my control to its limits, and I need to focus if I want to try to get out of this alive.
"Why are you here?" I ask firmly.
"Oh? Don't you rememberrr our conversation on the phone? You need my help." He comes closer. He's only feet from me, and I've backed into a wall.
"N-no. I don't need any of your help." I say quietly.
"What's wrong girl? Are you afraid?" He leers above me.
He takes one of his hands out of his pockets, and brings it slowly toward my face. I see a small nozzle under his wrist, and I shout, "No!"
His other hand grabs me, and holds me against the wall. His head tilts slightly, and his outstretched hand touches my chin softly. His touch is gentle, and it makes it even more terrifying.
"No, what?" He whispers. "No you're not afraid? Or no, don't kill you?" His hand traces the line of my jaw, and down to my neck. He opens his hand briefly, and closes it gently around my throat as if he were choking me. "I'm waiting..." He continues.
"Don't kill me." I say.
He chuckles to himself darkly for a moment, and brings his hand back up to trace my cheek. "Fear is a funny thing, isn't it?" He asks. I don't respond, and he continues. "Personally, I find it... Intoxicating." He points to my nose, and says, "For instance, if I were to gesture my hand in a specific way right now, you would be dead in underrr a minute. But just think of what an absolute thrill that minute would be for you and me both."
I can't begin to describe the terror in my stomach, and close my eyes tightly as a pitiful attempt of self-defense to this assault. His hand slaps across the gash on my cheek, and I cry out in pain.
"Pay attention girl! Don't do that." He growls. I open my eyes slowly, and he seems to feel a little better. "Now, I'm here for a reason. And that reason is to help you get to him. Do you understand? I'm in charge now, and you will do everything I say. When I say it."
"Mmhm." I mumble.
"Speak up."
"Yes." I say, trying to nod my head. "I get it."
"Just rememberrr girl. I could kill you in a moment. Don't mess up."
"O-Okay." I say. I think I almost prefer The Joker. Sure, he has literally scarred me for life, but at least he wasn't this bad.
He leans close to me, and his mask rubs against my ear softly. "Good girl." He almost coos, sending goose bumps down my spine.
"Can I ask a question?" I say quietly.
"You jusst did. But yesss you may."
"Why are you trying to help me?"
"Don't worry about my reasons." He snaps quietly. "Just be grateful you have it."
I look down and say, "Alright."
He drops his hands, and I stand there awkwardly for a moment.
"So...What's the plan?" I ask.
He doesn't answer, but instead, starts twisting something on his wrist. I'm confused for a moment, and hear him mutter to himself.
"Shame I can't just kill her."
Now I'm nervous about his movements. He continues fiddling with his wrist for a moment, and with a sigh, looks back up at me. He puts his hand up and before I understand what he's doing, a puff of white smoke comes out of the nozzle and sprays directly into my face.
"No!" I choke out.
I have taken a breath of the gas, and it burns down deep into my lungs. The pain of it makes me start coughing, and I feel as if I can't breathe. After a moment, my head feels light. A tingling sensation that almost merges into pain spreads along my arms and legs, and I start shaking.
Quick flashes assault my mind.
My mother crumpled on the ground in front of me.
My Father leaving with his arm around a woman I don't know.
The Joker's face.
The image of my mother crumpled turns into The Joker onto the ground.
Batman is dragging The Joker away into the dark.
"Noo!" I scream. "Come back!" I don't know if I'm talking to my Mother, my Father, or The Joker, but the words explode out of me without my permission.
I fall to my knees, and I hear the Scarecrow laughing above me.
"I have to say girl, this is extrrremely entertaining. Too bad it's not fatal."
The images are fading, and for a moment, my muscles feel drained and weak. I sway a little, trying to keep my balance when I feel a change.
Heat is coming back into my arms and legs quickly; building up raw energy. My mind brings back the images of The Joker and I become angry. It's getting hard to control my thoughts, and I am on my feet in an instant.
"Ahhh, now it's working." Scarecrow nods. "How do you like my newest concoction?"
My eyes dart around the room quickly, taking in details. My vision is clear and focused, and I see my way out. I take a step backward into the wall and use it as leverage to push myself toward him instead of away.
"It's fantastic." I say softly, grabbing him in a soft embrace. I have no emotional attachment to this man, but my mind is showing me the way to survive this ordeal, and if it means I have to act a little, I'm fine with it.
I realize that Scarecrow really is right about the feeling... It truly is intoxicating. I feel like a predator. Strong, graceful, and in charge.
"Good girl." He says again, and I seethe silently at the fact that he is treating me like some pet. He rubs my hair gently, and quick images of me punching and getting him off me flash through my mind. I ignore them though, and try to focus.
"We need to go." I lower my voice as I lean against him.
"Yes." He states simply. I don't know if he's onto my act, but there is no use giving it up.
I suddenly remember the outfit in the closet, and pull away from him.
"I have an idea." I turn and swiftly run back to the room, ignoring his protests behind me. As I said, I'm in control.
I burst into the closet quickly. I snatch the suit off its hanger and within a minute have it on. I then run upstairs, and into the bathroom with all of the paint. I'm not sure exactly what to do, but I get the general idea.
I pull the lid off the white container and smear it all over my face as a base. It's messy, but I'm in a hurry. I pull the purple lid off next, and attempt to paint the diamonds over my eyes again. They are a little lopsided, but they will do for now. Lastly, I take the green and smear it across my lips and upward along my cheeks to imitate what The Joker did before. Once that is finished, I take a step back to examine myself.
The outfit fits perfectly. It is tight fabric that covers me from my ankles to my neck. It has long sleeves that have points coming up from the shoulders slightly. The right side of the entire ensemble is green, and the entire left is a rich purple. Contrasting diamonds follow the center down to my waist, and overall, I'm impressed by the craftsmanship of it. It breathes when I move, but is strong enough to endure hardships without tearing.
I look back up to my face, and although it looks very nice with the outfit, (I have a feeling that The Joker designed the outfit after the design he painted on my face); something is missing. I'm a piece of art with no signature.
I scrutinize my reflection for a quick moment, when I notice how the makeup appears caked and blotchy over my two new scars. The gas is still in my bloodstream, giving my brain a head start, and I pick up the black paint quickly. I stick my finger inside, and quickly trace my two scars with it.
I back away again, and smile widely as the world seems to click into place for me in that infinite moment.
Perfection stares back at me, and I almost skip back downstairs I'm so happy.
I had almost forgotten the Scarecrow was still waiting for me, and he doesn't seem happy.
"You wasted my time to put on makeup? You are such a naive little girrrl." He hisses.
I walk straight up to him and hit him in the face. The mask softens my blow considerably, but it still helped vent some of my anger.
"Shut up." I growl. "And stop calling me that."
My threat only makes him angrier though, and he grabs my arm roughly.
"Let's just get this overrr with. I'm sick of you already." He says.
His anger doesn't faze me however, because I'm still on the gas's high. I feel strong and unbeatable, and a stupid scarecrow isn't going to ruin my mood.
I can only hope that the gas doesn't wear off before I can get to The Joker.
Ok, what did you think? :) Did you absolutely hate it? Did you like it? Even if you only have time to put a smiley face :) if you liked it, or a frowny face :( if you didn't, s review would be awesome! :D
(It's also awesome if you want to actually write a few words, just saying.)
Thanks guys!