Merry Christmas!
Oh, beautiful readers. You are awesome. Nog it up and enjoy some Christmas treats. The holidays are not a season known for weight loss, so why challenge the statistics?
She made the decision, knowing full well what the consequences might bring.
"I choose to tell you."
The professor leaned back in his chair. A nod of approval one might see from a psychiatrist.
"Very well. I am curious to know what the great Josephine is so afraid of."
"It was last night."
"Wherever you were, performing…should we say…less than moral operations for your father's campaign? Am I right?"
"No less than your own agenda, professor," she spat. She did not care to speak cruelly to him but sometimes he provoked her. As right as he was, he had no right to point out her father's flaws.
"What did you do?"
"The boy who was there, learning the ropes. He…was Falcone's grandson. His only grandchild. I know this because I've seen him on the news." And from descriptions from the Russians when I spy on them, but that was secret. "I feel guilt. For the first time, I realize that my mistakes, my actions have a result in another way."
"You feel sorry for a crime family?"
"I feel sorry for his mother."
She did not meet his gaze. He knew. He knew she spoke of her mother. There was no denying it. How she felt, the sorrow. What she had done.
"I can't always control it."
His mind perked.
"I can't always control the urge to do something to someone. That's why my mother is there, in that bed, not waking. That's why she's not with me right now. I can't control myself anymore. There is always that feeling of being empowered when you hurt someone. That sadism is addictive, like a prescription for adrenaline. A high I…can't live without."
She nestled her head on her knees, looking away from him. Her fingernails dig into her calves. She winced when the tenderness was brushed. They sat there in silence for what seemed like hours. Minutes ticked by with professor and student saying absolutely nothing and in the same position. Josephine peeked out from her position to see him, but his face was hidden by the hand it rested on.
"Professor," she broke in.
He removed the hand from his cheek, sliding it to cover his mouth. His face in her direction. An eyebrow rose.
"I'm...not sure why I'm telling you all this, but I feel like it helps. You don't judge me. But you must know that whatever had been said must remain confidential. If my father ever knew," she inhaled sharply.
"Of course." The light covered his eyes, transforming his glasses into white rectangles.
"He might hurt–" she stopped. Her emotions were running away from her again. "Suddenly…I don't feel like mixing chemicals too much at the moment." Her hands pushed her knees away leaving a large gap between them and her chest. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her emotions. There was stinging behind her eyes that she did not wish her mentor to see. There was a boundary crossed this morning but there was still so much separation between the two. That was a level she did not wish to encroach just yet.
"You wish to leave?" He asked in his monotone voice. Its affect was something Josephine did not expect. She was irritated. He was not cross, nor did she want him to be, but he wasn't, and that made him angry.
"No," she did not know how to say it, "I don't…I want to stay here." She paused and stared at him. "I don't feel like going back to my father."
"Do you wish to talk about the factor you are ignoring, or casting away?"
"No, I don't. There's nothing to discuss."
"I know what you think but you must leave it be. You made a choice today. You also made one long ago. What you've done since then has only reflected your loyalty to me. No matter how terrible you may feel about the consequences, you need to understand that. It did not go unrewarded."
"My mother didn't deserve what happened…the fear gas…it was a mistake…a terrible mistake…I never should have done that. I should have controlled it. You see! I should have controlled it!"
Josephine banged her fist on the fragile desk. The bolts rattled. The wood gave way slightly; a crack might have gone through. She removed her hand as if in flames and muttered an apology.
"It is fine, but you must channel your anger. Channel it against those you hate the most. That is what makes the pain go away."
Josephine's ears perked.
"Who do you mean?"
She swore there was that hint of animosity towards a certain clown, one that by nature, she could not allow harm to.
"…the bat…we will hunt the bat."
"But we don't have enough toxins to attack anywhere–"
"–did I say we were to attack tonight?"
She shook her head.
"No, but we are to attack sometime within the week at most. There will be our chance to strike strongly. Getting rid of the bat is always a priority. The brat next and then we will be free to do as we please."
He said 'we' instead of 'I.'
"What is it you play at, professor?"
"I play to win, my little protégée. I play to win." Dr. Crane stood abruptly. The chair creaked as it slid across the metal floor. "I will wait to test the next batch. He will be the first to scream from my toxins."
Josephine stood as well. She smiled grimly. Her eyes did not match her mentor's but he was about a foot taller than her. She was already tall for her age.
"You may stay here, but I will start working immediately. If you feel like coming down to help me, you may. But I don't expect intrusions otherwise."
He left the room. Josephine felt like wandering into the living room for something to read, but was blocked at the office door by the professor. He hung over her for a second before settling her eyes to hers. In the poor light, the glare did not block her view of his brown eyes.
"Thank you for the food. It was…very good."
"Oh, um, thank you, professor."
The awkward exchange hung over them until he turned on his heel and left. Josephine had a little spark back in her heart once he had vanished downstairs. She shook her head while walking to the little bookshelf.
"If only you could see sometimes, professor, if only you could see…"
Damian jogged the rest of the way home to Wayne Manor. Hours after his sighting, he went into the study to find his father sitting and finding instructions for the night's scouting.
"See anything interesting?"
"No, but you should have been here earlier instead of loitering around the city. I have information to review with you."
"I know, but I've been scouting on my own, picking up trails to lead to dat little bitch."
He clapped his hands on the chair nearest him.
"Josephine Quinzel will most likely not show up on the radar for the next couple of weeks."
"I know, but I think I saw something down in de Narrows."
"There is always something to see down there."
"No," his husky middle eastern voice lowered. "I might have seen her down there, with de rest of de sludge."
"Where?"
"Down near where the residencies begin."
"Did you see what she was doing, exactly?"
"No, but-"
Bruce Wayne gave him a hard look. "We are already caught in a mess at the moment. Poison Ivy has planted some kind of chemical in the Ace Chemical Factory and we don't know what the contents are. I need you to see to it that the chemicals are scanned and brought in. We need to stop her now."
"But she's not-"
"Damian, Poison Ivy is our main priority at the moment. You need to get your head on straight."
Upon seeing his son's disappointment, Bruce converted his tone.
"Damian," it was much more paternal, "I don't want to yell at you. You are my son. But you must understand the priorities at hand. There are more important things. Yes, I believe that you might have seen her, but at the moment, we can't think that she is up to something. Let us take care of the other threats."
Damian leaned against the chair and sighed. His lips pressed together angrily and he tried not to show his emotion too much.
"Fine. But only for de moment. When she does try something. We strike."
There was not the slightest hint of obstruction when Josephine returned home to the factory. It was quiet, silent as the grave, –no –silent as a-factory-without-idiotic-henchmen-who-can't-do-what-they-are-told quiet. The conveyor belts, once heavy with teddy bears and toy xylophones, now housed new armory and other supplies her father was importing. She walked up to a line-up and stared at its new contents. There were new supplies gathered since the night before.
New guns ranging from 6 millimeter to rifles to bazookas lay against the spongy surface. A switch with turned on and the belt began to move the objects around the factory, revealing more and more loads of supplies. She ignored the sudden energy surge, mesmerized by the amounts of weaponry displayed. Bombs, hand grenades…the list went on.
Josephine's mouth was agape. It could not be her father. Sure, he works trembled on the high notes of genius, but this –this was miraculous.
"Like my work?" A male's voice echoed from the shadows.
Josephine lifted her gaze in the direction of the owner, fingered the knife at her waist pocket.
"Who's there?"
"Now, now, no need to get all Rambo on me. I'm just a man with some," he paused, "entrepreneurship."
A figure emerged.
The first sight her eyes shot to was his blue hair slicked into a short Mohawk. He skin was white over his face, rubbed evenly with cheap greasepaint that smelled like tar. There were two teardrops pained under his left eye; just two, beneath a blue eye caked in black eye shadow. He was obviously some sort of Joker copycat out to beat out the old man. He wouldn't even have the chance. Better yet, she'd leave him diced for her father to see. Trying to take over the business, yeah right.
"What are you doing here?" She grit at the intruder. "Do you know what happens to trespassers here?"
"Now, now, clown princess. Down girl. I'm your friend," he said in a fake coaxing voice. "I was hired by your daddy dearest. The Joker's my man."
"Liar," she grit, revealing the slender blade and taking a measured step forward. Joker would never hire this punk to do his dirty work. Look at him! He's a bad copycat out for his own agenda. Her father couldn't be more of a fool.
"Really? Why don't we ask him? Boss! Your little girl made it back safe and sound!"
"Wonderful!" None other than the Joker entered into her frame of vision dressed in his gaudy colored suit with nothing less than his astonishing presence. "Josie, I have someone I'd like you to meet. Josie, this is Jackie Boy." He clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder. Blue Hair grinned proudly. "He here is our new supplies specialist. Ain't that right Ol' Jack?"
Josephine stared blankly, stunned. Absolutely stunned at the sight of the camaraderie. So, he was a fool to hire him, but why? Why this punk? Why, why, why….
"Right –O, Boss. Anything you need, just ask." He winked at Josephine, to which she sneered.
"Now that's what I want to hear. Josie, this guy's full of laughs. Worth way more bucks than those bumbling fools we just…released. He's the price of the lot!" Joker cackled excitedly, not realizing the effect his words had on his child.
She stood there, mouth agape, but collected herself. There was obviously some mistake. He couldn't mean Firetongue and Ink. They didn't often let down the Clown clan. She rose to defend them.
"I could have done this, you know. I have two men of my own. We were stopped and –"
"–those idiots? They couldn't find their way out of a paper bag! So one can spit fire out of his ass and the other play puppeteer with some hocus pocus? That's not helpful at all! Where do you find them, Josie Girl? No, I think a little time in the slamma' will knock those bozo's heads on straight."
"We would have pulled off that heist last night, if the bat and his brat hadn't showed up–"
"–you met the bat? Well, well, I see where this is going. A little finger pointing, eh? Couldn't get the job done and has to blame someone else. Well, fine, Josie Girl, you just do that, but I've got a new man for the job now. Don't you worry your pretty head over it."
He strode over and tapped her on the nose. Josephine did not smile. She looked past her father to see Jack smirking at her. She stepped away from The Joker. A smile crossed her lips.
"I wonder something. If he's, "she thrust her index finger at Jack, "planning on staying with us," allowing her tone to darken as her idea flooded into words, "what are his feelings on hyenas?"
The smile dissipated on Jack. He visibly gulped. So, it wasn't funny anymore. Good.
Josephine formed her lips into a whistle, nearing sounding the call when the Joker let out a bark of laughter.
"Oh Josie Girl, why spoil the fun so early? The kid's got to get his feet wet first!" He placed an arm around Jack and the smile reappeared. "I tell you what Jack. Do everything you will for me and Ol' Uncle Joker will spare your life from a world of pain." He darkened his tone. His green eyes lit fiercely. "Got it?"
"Gotcha Boss. Nothing's too good for the Clown Prince of Crime."
"Outstanding! Let me walk you around a bit, introduce you to the sights."
The two began to stroll away, Joker's arm still around his shoulders. She could hear her father's voice echo from deep in the factory.
"And this is where all the little baddies go who don't cooperate! Hoo hoo!"
Josephine felt a sickening knot tie inside. So her father had a new little pet, did he? She remained there in the little lobby area, staring at the empty space where the two once stood. There was so much more for her to think about. Gotham was getting more and more complicated. She couldn't depend on anyone really. Her own father had practically disowned her in minutes over guns.
She considered staying, fighting Jack, defeating him, seeing the expression on her father's face as she squashed Jack's face into the carpet and stained the rug with his ruined body. No, that wouldn't work anymore. She saw the effect this Jack had on her father. Killing him would only make him a martyr to the Joker, making him angrier and throw her out. She thought about staying to see if things would work out but knew deep down she was second class now. That was the way with the Joker and she hadn't considered the seriousness of it until she was the replacement. She was the one wandering around the dark room, waiting to be stabbed out of surprise.
But she wasn't stabbed. Not yet. She still had time to find the weak spot. Not now, she needed time to breathe. To think about her position in Gotham and her allegiance.
She exited the double doors and into the night and did not feel the cold backlash of the doors as they clamped on her hand.