I pretend that I have to leave, and before they can say anything other than "See you around," I'm making a dash for the door.
I don't quite make it outside, however.
"Whyyyy hel-lo, gorgeous."
I've just run smack-dab into my worst nightmare. Hearing his rasping voice, akin to nails being attacked with a chainsaw, give his personal greeting, I freeze two inches from his torso, wide-eyed. Slowly, I look up at the face all Gotham has learned to know and love, now stretched with a yellow-toothed grin. The humor doesn't reach his black-rimmed eyes. It's like staring into the gaze of a big, hungry wolf, and I feel my heart beating like timpani in my throat. Well, Bruce. I might not make it to grandmother-ship.
I back away from the hunched, giggling figure, whose smile widens at the fear apparent in my face. "Whatsa matter? Lost for words?" I choke slightly on my breath, moving slowly back towards my table as restaurant-goers all around me scream and run in flurried panic for any and all the exits. The reaction couldn't have been better if the kitchen had caught fire. Witnessing my inching retreat, the Joker cackles and jumps onto the table in front of me. "You'll have to move faster than tha-t if you want to get out of here, girly." He gazes around, reveling in the terror he inspires, and I take advantage of his distraction to grab my steak knife off of my plate. "Why, what's gotten into them all? I'm sure I made, ah, res-er-vations!"
Acting quickly, I pull the tablecloth the Joker stands on out from under him, and he falls on his back, just like a cartoon character. Instantly, I grab him by his collar and put the steak knife, still dripping with cow fluids, to his neck. His cohorts freeze. I feel his pulse quicken, not with fear, but with excitement, see his face light up like a florescent bulb. He licks his lips, eyes shining sadistically. "Quite the little, ah, warrior, aren't we Miss Vince?" His voice is low, sly, and insidious. "You've got a dan-ger-ous mind up there, locked behind all your fine wooords, don't you? Something not quite, ah, irreprehensible."
He drags his skin across the edge of the knife, letting its shining serrated edge draw a thin red bead, still grinning like a hyena. I feel nauseous. I take a steadying breath, and in the second I take close my eyes and compose myself, the blade is wrenched from my hand, and my arm is twisted behind my back, his breath hot and humid on the nape of my neck. "I like this side of you." He giggles. "You know… for a while there, I actually thought you could be an innocent?" He's far too close to me. I can feel his body heat just past the pain in my arm–– oh God, has he broken it? "But it just goes to show–– nobody's perfect!" He lets go of my arm.
With a shove, I'm face down on the floor, breathing in dust, the smell of the carpet, watching the others' shoes come closer, seeing the wrinkles of my right thumb, the carved lions' heads on the table legs, feeling pain and warmth and fear, hearing his screeching, terrifying laugh. Are these going to be the last things I see? "Fuck, God," I mutter, turning over and squeezing my eyes tight, "I know you hate me and all, but isn't it your day off?" Unfortunately, the Joker's heard my little grumble and begins cackling all over again.
"Oh––oh dear––she's funny! Hee hee hee, are you and the Big Man having a–– a tiff, dear? Well, there isn't really a savior for people like us, is there?" I glare daggers at his mock sympathy, and he pretends to be hurt, pouting through his Cheshire grin. "Oh, Miss Vince, you must admit that we have quite a bit in common!"
"Yeah," I say darkly, "like how we both can't shut our mouths."
There is a long, deep, and ominous silence.
The Joker licks his lips, glances at the ceiling, and says in a high-pitched drawl, "You know, you really have a knack of bringing the worst upon yourself."
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I awaken to the smell of petroleum and the sound of evil laughter in a pitch-black room. "Wakey wakey, sedative head! You've got a big night ahead of you!" I look around, groggy from whatever they knocked me out with, and quickly becoming tense with apprehension. Judging by the distant sound of water, I'm in a warehouse, one of those conveniently abandoned ones located by the wharf. My hands, knees, and feet are tied with long, fizzing fuses, all of them linked together, wrapped around my body. Each loose end is burning fiercely, and I wonder what horrible demise I would have come to, if I had not–– well, come to. I stare at the fiery tips for a minute and awkwardly nudge one of them with my hands. "Ah-ah-ah!" the voice cackles. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Ignoring him, I persevere to pick up one of the ones by my feet, and finally see where the smell is coming from.
In the space just beyond my body, the Joker's placed a veritable moat of oil.
"You've sized it up, haven't you? You see the, ah, pre-dicamen-t. You, little, he he, little Miss Vince, are damned if you do and damned if you don't! So why don't–– why don't we just play a little game." He giggles as I twist my head around, trying to find the source of the voice. I finally locate a little red light directly behind me. A camera, I think. "This is one of those little annoying things where I can see you, but you can't see me. So I'd stop squirming–– you're only, ah, compromising yourself." I instantly freeze. This is one of those times when one is forced to reflect bitterly upon their deficit of brainpower. My stupid tongue needs to twist itself into a pretzel and burn. No, on second thought, scratch burning–– and curse the caveman that invented it.
The sly voice continues, sneaky and sinister and odious. "Little Harriet Vince, you just don't understand, do you?" He lowers his voice, purring, "I like you." I start at the sick, inverted déjà vu. "That's why I'm giving you a, ah, fighting chance. Of course, to win, you'll have to break some of your precious rules. But," the Joker giggles, "once you hear the terms, my little hero-ine, you'll understand why.
"You've told everyone about my de-spic-able nature, but how are you any different? Hmm? Until today, girly, you've avoided confrontation like the plague." That's because before now, Mr. Joker, I was a sensible-minded coward. "I think I know why–– you're not just afraid." I look at the camera incredulously. "You're afraid of becoming like me. Like your precious bat. But when it comes down to the wire, heh heh heh, when you don't have your rag of a newspaper between yourself and the world–– you're nothing but an ani-mal." He giggles wildly as I glare into the little red light. "A freak. Like––"
"A platypus."
There's a blissfully long silence.
"What?"
"You know, the animal that looks like a beaver-duck with otter feet and has poisonous spurs on their hind ankles? Weird little buggers–– can pick up electric signals with their bills. Sorry, I did a project in the third grade. You were saying something?" Throughout this bizarre, panic-inspired exchange, I've been attempting to get free from my bonds with the limited capacity for movement that I have. The Joker begins laughing again, loud and hard, and I wish desperately that I could chuck a brick at his head.
"Ooh-hoo-hoo Miss Vince, this is ex-act-ly why I'd love to keep you around–– you have a wonderful sense of timing! You'd better hurry, though, or else your, ah, natural talents won't be of much use to little Jonathon Tambling." I pause, ice water running through my veins.
"Little–– you bastard, what are you trying to prove!" I yell into the darkness, hearing my words ring and echo through the metal warehouse.
"Me? I think you know very well–– you knew when you wrote the article. I think you've known all your life." I stare into the little red light, feeling the anger inside me boil and scald, lit from beneath by the fizzing fuse that is my temper. I've always been pretty mild-mannered, but now I feel that if he says one more sickening word, whatever is inside me will not be hesitant in its desire to commit homicide.
"Mr. Joker sir? May I ask you ask you to very sweetly shut the fuck up? I'm kind of, um, preoccupied right now." He giggles hysterically.
"Well, certainly–– but don't you at least wanna clue as to where poor little Johnny is?" I swallow, hard, and nod to the camera. "Okay, here goes: 'A peanut sat on the railroad track; his heart was all a-flutter. 'Round the bend came number ten and TOOT! TOOT!' ––"
"Peanut butter," I whisper.
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Sorry to cut this sort, but the cliffhanger was too good to pass up! XD Hee hee hee, I'm so evil! Sneaks away on tiptoe, rubbing hands deviously