It was no surprise to find myself waking up again at night. With a glance at my wristwatch, I confirmed the time, being nine twenty-seven. I heaved a sigh and turned over onto my stomach, hugging my pillow. I've been with the Joker for seven days, an entire week. Within that time, I was able to establish work under him, and I've made friends with Raven, a criminal like myself who has a supernatural ability too. What a progress!
Why couldn't I have learned about my shadowing ability before the Joker had caught me? I'd be long gone now. I wouldn't be lying in his bed every night if I hadn't gotten caught by him.
Speaking of the Joker, I looked over my shoulder to find that his side of the bed was vacant. I had the urge to try and go back to sleep, but I was rested. I turned over again and sat up, raking my hands through my hair to comb it. With a sigh, I hit the blankets with my hands, looking around the room.
Some clothing was set out for me at the foot of the bed. I shook my head in disbelief. Surely the Joker was still angry with me about coming home late last night, right? Deciding not to question it for now, I pulled on the Joker's chosen clothing and then left the bedroom, wondering where I might find him.
Befriending Raven had brought something to my attention. Who were the other criminal masterminds in Gotham City? I knew their names: the Riddler, Catwoman, the Penguin, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, and Scarecrow; I just knew next to nothing about them. I figured that since the Joker was one of them, he would know about them, possibly had connections with them. It only made sense. The Mob worked for one another occasionally, and in a tight spot, they would either turn to others or simply play out on their own. The idea of criminals was the same around; it just depended on the actual criminal of how they were going to roll.
Having the freedom to move about the place without the Joker as my chaperone was nice. Since I still wasn't used to it, I walked stealthily, moving along the edge of the hallway to avoid the creaks of the floor.
Each door I came to, I pressed my ear against it, listening to silence, snores, or the noisy room where I assumed was the chosen place for the Joker's men to hang out and yell at the television. Again with the yelling at the television where the sport players wouldn't hear them. Don't pay attention to my prejudices. I just rolled my eyes and continued on.
I finally reached the stairs and debated whether or not to go up or down. I didn't know what was upstairs so I stuck with the known first and went downstairs.
As I stepped onto the first floor, I heard a yip of pain, followed by a whimper. It sounded like the wounded dog, and I followed my ears, locating the whine coming from the kitchen. I approached the kitchen to find two of the Rottweilers waiting outside, one giving the door a low growl while the other one looked like it was going to die if it had to keep listening to the wounded one cry in pain.
I walked over, and both Rottweilers noticed me. The one that looked like it was in agony padded toward me heavily, its tail drooping, and it whined as it reached me. I rubbed its – his – ears, head, and neck to comfort him. The other one – another he – stopped growling long enough to give me a long whine before tightening as the Rottweiler inside whimpered loudly.
I slipped into the kitchen, figuring that whoever was taking care of the wounded dog didn't want the other two inside, so I made sure that the door was closed behind me.
The wounded Rottweiler was whimpering on the table counter, lying on its – didn't know the gender yet – side with its head on a pillow. Bandages, bloodied cloths, bloodied instruments, and other surgical-looking items were scattered by the dog's legs. There was even a needle and threat.
The Joker stood over the dog, rubbing a cloth on the wound on its leg. He was humming a soft tune, one that I couldn't identify, but it seemed to calm the dog enough to keep it from crying loudly.
"Okay, girl, hang in there," the Joker murmured as he tossed the cloth he was using. I watched him quietly as he prepared the needle and threat. The dog whimpered, as if anticipating what was going to happen. "Sh-sh-sh," the Joker hushed her, rubbing her head. The dog started shaking.
"Shadow, be a good girl and, ah, talk to her," the Joker said, without looking up at me. I moved forward, and the dog turned her head, seeing me and whimpering, struggling to get up.
"No, girl," I said, applying pressure on her, keeping her on the counter. The dog continued to fight. "C'mon, Scout, lie down." The dog looked at me, and then lied back down, her black eyes watching me. I smiled, rubbing her ears, and looked up.
The Joker stared at me from under his brow. He was holding the needle ready to stitch up the Rottweiler's wound, but he was frozen, staring at me in disbelief. "Scout?" he repeated, a confused note in his voice.
I nodded. "Scout," I confirmed. "And the other two are Prince and Buddy."
A small smile crept onto his scarred lips. "Which is which?" he asked.
"The one whining out there is Prince, and the other-."
"The one who's al-ready tried to, ah, to bite my leg," the Joker said, disgusted.
"That's Buddy."
The Joker nodded as he began stitching up Scout's leg. Her eyes squinted slightly, but she didn't whimper; her attention focused on me. I assumed that the Joker had numbed her leg from feeling so he would have an easier time keeping her calm.
"So…it's official?" the Joker asked.
"I wanted to make sure that you didn't throw them out into the streets," I said.
He looked up from his work, giving me an injured look. "I'll admit-ah that if they were cats, I'd have gotten rid of them, but I like dogs. Man's best-ah friend. There has only been one cat-ah that I've liked, but I still like dogs best." The Joker grinned and rubbed Scout's head affectionately. "There," he said, returning to his work, "You know one secret-ah that I have."
"If I turned on you, I couldn't really use that piece of information against you," I told him. "I'll make it fair. I love dogs too, Rottweilers in particular. I've always dreamed of having one, and having three now is just…like my dream come true three times over simultaneously."
The Joker started giggling as he tied off the stitches. "What-ah else?" he asked, his brown eyes twinkling with curiosity.
I grinned and shook my head. "Naughty naughty, give me something and I'll pay you back."
"Who said I had, ah, to start?"
"You told me something first, and it doesn't work if I start this round, unless we alternate each time."
The Joker burst out laughing like what I had said was absurd. "No-no, Shadow, that's not-ah how I do things."
"What if I ask a question and you answer it?"
"Just did." I shook my head, smiling in spite of myself. The Joker looked up at me as he bandaged Scout's foot to keep her from chewing at the stitches. "Fine," he said, "Another try at a question."
I watched him as he worked gingerly with Scout, rubbing her head but giving her a sharp tap on the nose when she tried to gnaw the bandage. He even threatened to give her the "cone of shame", which made me laugh. As I read his expression, I could tell that he was proud of himself for something, probably for making me laugh, which I've noticed I've done it more often. Seven days with him and I was laughing more than I had in a year – and that doesn't count all the fake laughs I've given.
"Are you gonna, ah, ask your ques-tion?" the Joker pressed. I blinked, distracted out of my thoughts, and I shook my head to clear it. "Changed your mind?"
"No," I said.
The Joker rubbed Scout's head, allowing her to lick his hand a bit before picking her up and placing her on the ground. Scout whimpered the first time she put weight on her hurt foot, and she looked up at the Joker, a pleading look in her black eyes. He cocked his head at her and issued a low growl. She headed toward the door, taking careful steps, and he followed to open the door for her. He closed it behind her, and he stood staring at me while we listened to the barks of relief from the two male Rottweilers outside.
The Joker and I stared at one another in silence, he cocking his head to the side, me with my head parallel to my shoulder, sitting at the counter. Then, the Joker licked his lips, and a question popped into my head.
"You said that your father gave you the scars," I began, "Yet I feel like that's only half the story…"
I didn't get any farther because the Joker leaped at me, yanking me off the stool and throwing me against the wall, the switchblade by my ear. One hand gripped my chin; the other – with the switchblade – held the side of my head. The Joker's eyes burned with either fury or hatred, I couldn't tell, but he looked like he was ready to kill me if his glare didn't.
"Is that-ah what your ques-tion is, Shadow?" he growled. "What's the story about-ah your other scar? Well, you're ob-ser-vant-ah." He slid the switchblade along his left scar. "This one was from my father, but this one…" A jerk of the knife brought it to his right cheek, jabbing the other half of his Glasgow grin. "…has its own story.
"See, I had this girl-friend, blonde, innocent, beautiful. She didn't-ah like violence; she hated scary movies. She had an immense fear of the sight-ah of blood. But she was gorge-ous, such a loving girl, so young. I worshipped her, valued her more than any-thing I owned. I'd give her presents. I'd take her out-ah to the best restaurants I could find, with the money I had, which wasn't-ah much. That girl…I'd do anything for her, to make her happy.
"But, I was getting too deep-ah. I couldn't-ah keep a job for more than two weeks. Jobs were hard to, ah, to find. So…I turned to crime, joined a gang. I stole, I killed, I gambled. I had the luck of the wild card. I was the best-ah; it wasn't hard to, ah, to gain a higher position within the gang. Some-one didn't-ah like that.
"One day, on the way home, I was jumped. I lost-ah a small gift I had bought for my girl, a pair of emerald earrings to, ah, to match her eyes." The Joker paused, his eyes glazing with the memory. "I went home empty-handed, planning to take my girl out-ah to dinner to make up for the lost earrings. But when I got home…" The Joker shook his head slowly, his expression turning to anger. "What a sur-prise I found, just wait-ing for me."
Hatred lit his eyes, and his grip on me tightened painfully, like he intended to crush my chin in his fist. I whimpered quietly and he eased a bit but not by much. His eyes met mine, burning with fury. "All the things I had done for her, the gifts, the love, the money, everything…it was not-ah good enough. I wasn't good enough for her." His voice had hardened into a savage growl. He wasn't looking at me, but as his body tightened in angry, I felt afraid. "I went-ah home to find my girl, my Jean-nie, in another. Man's. Arms. I wasn't going to let-ah her get away with that. Es-peci-ally. Not-ah. Him."
The Joker's body was shaking in rage, and his grip on my head slipped back, pulling his gloves and exposing his wrists. I felt them brush my cheek, and I looked into his hatred-filled brown eyes, feeling a strange pull. I didn't fight my headache as it burst forth into existence, closing my eyes as I felt pulled into the hated memory.
When I opened my eyes, I knew instantly that I was looking through the Joker's eyes, witnessing how his past had played. I had become him, within his memory.
I entered the narrow hall of our apartment, closing the door quietly behind me, locking and bolting it. I heard classical music playing from the living room, which made me smile. Jeannie wouldn't have heard me come home; I could still surprise her. Excited, I moved down the hallway, careful to make my approach quiet.
I moved into the doorway, readying to shout out and tell her that I was home. But the sight of her made me halt, dumbstruck.
She was dancing to the classical music…with my gang leader, Jasper. She moved so gracefully in his arms as they danced around the room. Her body movements were sexual, lifting her arms up and allowing Jasper to grope her and kiss her soft skin.
It made me sick!
Burning with hatred and fury, I reached into a table drawer and pulled out a gun I had hidden there. I fired the gun, hitting him in the shoulder and knocking him away from her.
Jeannie screamed at the gunshot, and increased in volume as I fired again at the gang leader, this time getting him in the side. Three bullets hit the stereo, causing it to spark dangerously. Jasper reached for his gun in his pocket, but I shot him a third time, knocking him down onto the ground on his back.
I moved into the room, toward Jeannie, and she shrieked when she saw me. Without a word, I gripped her wrist and pulled her roughly out into the hallway. She continued to scream, and she struggled against my hold. I let her go, heading into the bathroom alone.
I slammed open the mirror, shattering the glass, ignoring it as it slashed across my face. I didn't care about the minor pain and the blood. I reached in and took the first sharp object my hands fell on, a razor.
Jeannie shrieked as I appeared down the hallway. I started toward her, but stepped back as a bullet shot into the wall by my head. I charged at Jasper, slamming into him and bringing him down to the ground. Angrily, I knocked his gun out of his hand, and I punched him several times before hovering over him, razor in my hand.
"You've stepped beyond the limit-ah, Jasper," I growled as I pushed the razor into his cheek.
Pain burst in the back of my head as red and black dots flashed in my vision. I dropped off of Jasper, landing heavily on the ground, a hand reaching to the back of my head. I touched a sticking fluid and only registered it as blood.
Jasper straddled me and started beating me. Jeannie screamed for him to stop, trying to pull him off me. My hands came up to defend me, but I felt every punch, every blow. The blood flowed…the pain subsided…I felt nothing but anger…hatred.
Through the hatred, I shoved Jasper off me, and I rolled onto him, holding my gun to his head. Revenge burned in me, screaming for blood, for pain. I pulled the trigger, watching the blood shoot out.
Jeannie screamed for help in the hallway and I heard her struggle with the door. I climbed to my feet, picking up the razor and sauntering into the hallway. Jeannie heard my footsteps on the floor, and she pounded on the door, crying, begging. I reached her and spun her around to face me, pushing her against the door.
She kneed me in desperation, and as I stepped back, laughing the pain off, she turned back and banged against the door. I pulled her away from it and threw her to the ground. She collapsed and started to pick herself up, but she stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide as I approached her slowly.
I loomed over her, and she took in the look on my face and burst into sobs. I crouched down before her and grabbed her chin, none too gently, forcing her to meet my eyes.
"Sh-sh-sh," I hushed her, stroking her cheek with the back of my free hand. "No need to, ah, to cry when you're the betrayer."
"I'm sorry," she cried, but I cut her off.
"Sorry doesn't cut it," I growled, menacingly, and she fell into a quiet sob. "But you know what does cut it?" I grabbed her hand and placed the razor in it. "Something that's sharp."
She looked at me with a horrified expression, a look that sent shivers of pleasure through me. I could smell her fear, it was so thick. I gripped her hand that held the razor and brought it close to her face.
"Please, don't-," she pleaded.
"Did I say it was for you?" I demanded harshly, silencing her. "How 'bout giving my lone-ly scar here a friend, Jeannie? As a parting gift to me?"
As she widened her eyes, I placed the razor inside my mouth, tightening my grasp on her hand, and as she opened hers to protest, I jerked her hand to my right, moving the razor and slicing through my cheek, skin and nerves altogether.
The agony brought a blood red haze before my eyes. Jeannie's scream rung in my head, music to my ears. I gurgled on the flow of blood, but it didn't matter.
Even through the agony and the haze, I could feel Jeannie losing it. Her fear of blood – upon seeing it spilling from my mouth – was driving her insane! I pulled her to her feet and yanked her into the living room. I forced Jeannie before me and held her to me to keep her from turning away as I fired the gun several times at Jasper's dead body.
Jeannie screamed endlessly at the flow of bright red blood. I threw her to the ground, where she landed near her dead partner. She looked at me and continued shrieking at the top of her lungs.
And I was grinning! I enjoyed this, the fear, the blood, the pain, the power. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and I just stood there, smiling without much effort.
Pure insanity appeared in Jeannie's eyes, and I cocked my head. "Well, Jeannie," I said with difficulty and much pain. "What doesn't kill you makes you stranger, right?"
"You're a monster," she shrieked.
Despite the pain, I grinned, the muscles in my face tearing. "No, Jeannie. I'm just ahead of the curve." She only stared at me as I cocked the gun one more time and fired, shooting her in the head.
I pulled myself from the awful memory, shuddering with the aftereffects, feeling the Joker's anger and madness linger inside me. It took me a moment to realize that the Joker was no longer holding me against the wall, but rather was standing several steps away, gripping his head with a hand, his eyes squeezed shut, his expression in a grimace like he was in pain. His switchblade remained in his other hand, which was hanging by his side.
"Mister J?" I said quietly, slowly. He didn't reply, just applied more pressure on his head. "Joker?" I repeated, a bit louder. The Joker opened his eyes slowly, narrowing them at the floor. I took a cautious step forward, and when he didn't react any farther, I took another.
The Joker's head shot up, and he moved so fast that the only way I could have registered what he did was to use my shadow. I ducked just in time and heard a thump behind me. Cautiously, I glanced over my shoulder to see his switchblade stuck in the wall, its handle still trembling.
With wide eyes, I looked back at the Joker, and again he moved, this time to push me against the wall again, bringing my head right next to the vibrating switchblade.
"What. Did. You. Do?" he demanded through clenched teeth. His eyes burned into mine, shooting cold fear through my being. He didn't touch me, his hands were off to the side, pressed against the wall; but I felt myself hurting. "Tell me, Shadow!" the Joker yelled.
I was so scared that I couldn't come up with a lie. "It's a special ability that I have," I said, frightened.
He grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "What. Ability?" he growled.
I told him. It was difficult to explain it to him while he was scaring me half to death, but I managed to tell him about figuring that if I had ability, I should learn to use it. I told him about Raven and how she helped me learn to control my shadowing, and how to use my shadow state of being. He didn't seem to calm down until I had told him that, but he grew angry again, telling me in a growl that I hadn't explained what I had just did to him.
"I'm not really sure," I said in reply. "I think it might have to do with my shadow ability too. Like shadows are memories, shadows of the past. I don't know how I did it, but I think I went into your memory of…of what had happened to you."
The Joker looked at me suspiciously. "What-ah exactly did you see?" he asked.
"It wasn't what I just saw," I replied, honestly. "I know."
Horror flashed in his eyes and across his painted face, something I didn't understand. What was there that the Joker didn't want me to know, besides the obvious – being his identity?
"What-ah do you know?" Was I imagining things or was his voice shaky as he spoke, like his terror of me knowing something about him was real?
"Your girlfriend's name was Jeannie. The man who didn't like you rising higher in the gang was Jasper. You used a razor and drove Jeannie insane because of the sight of blood. I felt the pain, your hatred, your anger, your hurt." I saw something else cross the Joker's face, but I looked away, unable to watch his emotions when I had understood them so well only minutes before, when I had seen his memory. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I won't do it again, if I can help it."
"That's the thing." He cupped my chin and forced me to look at him. This time, his emotions were only in his eyes. "After being with you for a, ah, a week, I al-ready know that-ah you can't help it." I stared at him, afraid he'll try to hurt me again, but this time, he chuckled and pulled me into an embrace.
I didn't know how to react so I didn't, besides tightening against him. His laughter rippled through his body, and I felt it, still unsure of what I was supposed to do. Did I hug him back or no? Was he just hugging me to retrieve his switchblade so he could backstab me? That caused me to twist my head to search for the switchblade, but it was still there in the wall.
The Joker released me and placed his hands on my shoulders, grinning. "Caught yah by surprise, didn't-ah I?" I only nodded, mutely. Abruptly, he grabbed his switchblade, yanking it out of the wall. I flinched, stepping away from him and retreating toward the kitchen door.
The Joker laughed at my frightened reaction. "You don't-ah trust me anymore?" he asked, clicking closed his knife before pocketing it.
"Who would after you have major bipolar issues?" I demanded, my voice high with hysteria. The Joker looked at me as he grabbed his jacket from one of the kitchen counters. He slipped his arms into it as he sauntered toward me. I retreated again, but then, he caught up to me, pulling me into a half embrace with one arm around my waist while his hand brushed my hair back gently.
"So high-strung," he giggled. "And I'm not-ah the only one with bipolar issues." He laughed as he pulled me away from the door so he could open it. Despite my protest, the Joker towed me toward the stairs where he shifted his grasp to my upper arm so he could run upstairs. I had the option of either tripping on the stairs or running after him. Since it was less painful, not to mention 'easier', I chose the latter.
I followed the Joker upstairs and wondered where he was taking me. I hadn't really seen much of the apartment building, having explored it a little earlier in search of the clown, so I had limited knowledge of the place. As we neared the floor his bedroom was on, I prepared myself, but the Joker surprised me. We continued running up the steps, stopping on the next landing up.
"Pe-ter!" the Joker bellowed at the top of his lungs. Being next to him, my ears rung painfully, and I winced as the Joker pulled me into him, keeping me from escaping.
There was a loud bang, and one of the doors down the hallway burst open. Peter popped out, looking wild as his boss had called him so abruptly and so close. "Yes, boss?" he said, his voice slightly uneven from the fright.
"I need the laptop," the Joker stated.
"Um, Bleak has it."
The Joker narrowed his eyes and turned his head slightly. "Real-ly? Bleak's come home?" he questioned, and Peter nodded. "In his room?" Again, the other man gave him a nod. "Would the rest-ah of the e-quip-ment be with him?"
"Yes, boss," Peter said. "He's using it to-."
"I know what he uses it for!" the Joker yelled, annoyed. "Go walk the dogs." Peter hesitated, his eyes shifting uneasily in my direction. The Joker glared at him. "Move, Peter. Don't-ah make me say it ah-gain."
"I'm on it, boss," Peter said, jerking as if he had been distracted – by me? – and obediently, he moved, walking past us in a wide circle to avoid being too close to us. I cranked my neck to watch him, making sure he was headed down the stairs we had just come up.
"C'mon, I guess I'll introduce you," the Joker said, pulling me down the hallway. He knocked solidly on a door and waited with me beside him until the door opened.
I stifled a gasp as my eyes widened in shock. The man who had opened the door was the guy who had aided me in my escape from The Stacked Deck, the night after I had first met the Joker, my second night; it was Ron! The only difference was his left eye was bruised.
"Hi, boss," Ron greeted, managing a slight grin.
"Long time no see, Bleak," the Joker said, cheerfully. "Didn't I tell you to, ah, to avoid starting fights?"
"I didn't start it. I finished it."
The Joker burst out laughing as he released me to clap Ron on the shoulder. "Sure ya did, sure ya did." A second passed, and the Joker had Ron against the doorframe in a flash, a knife to his chin. "Where've ya been?" he demanded, his voice hard.
"Yah know, the usual," Ron shrugged, carelessly. "Went after a guy who owed me money. Got the money, and he decided to take his guys and jump me later. Hence the eye." He gestured casually at his black eye.
The Joker's expression had softened into curiosity. "How many?" he asked.
"Total? Five. The guy who owed me ran off when he saw that I was winning."
The Joker released Ron slowly, his eyes becoming distant, and a strange look appeared on his face. However, when he looked over at me, his eyes focused and a grin stretched across his scarred lips. "What's the guy's name?" he asked Ron, though he didn't take his eyes off me, making me feel self-conscious.
"Tyler Samson. Why?"
The Joker whipped his head around so fast to look at Ron that I feared that he might break his neck. Instead, he just cracked it loudly and seemed not to notice. "Ya need the laptop?" he asked.
"No, I'm done. Why?"
"Leave the 'whys' for the Rid-dler, Bleak. You know the guy's address?" Ron started to look suspicious, and upon seeing it, the Joker grabbed the front of Ron's jacket and pulled him close so that they were face-to-face. "Don't-ah question me, Bleak. After working for me for, ah, for a year, by now, you'd know not-ah to do that. Get the laptop and tell Shadow here the guy's address!"
"Why do I need to know the guy's address?" I demanded, startled by this. The Joker gave me a look, but he didn't release Ron just yet. "You want me to go to visit this guy, Tyler Samson? Why the heck would you have me do that? Just send-." I caught the look Ron was throwing me, and stopped myself from saying the name he had given me, realizing that the Joker might assume Ron's the one who hit him and might decide to kill him right in front of me. "-Bleak to go visit his own guy!" I finished.
"But Sha-dow," the Joker drawled, releasing Ron and stepping toward me. Nervously, I took a step back to his step forward. He noticed my movement and continued until I had bumped into the wall, unable to go any farther. The Joker halted with only an inch between us, his face looming close to mine, his hands against the wall on either side of my head. He slid out his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, wetting it. "Bleak," he said, "Go set up the tech room," the Joker ordered, his eyes on mine.
"Um, okay." Ron sounded worried, but I couldn't take my eyes away from the Joker or he would suspect something. The Joker waited until Ron had left before he spoke again.
He cupped my chin with a hand, narrowing his eyes slightly. "You have this, ah, rebellious streak in you, Shadow. I like that-ah, but-ah…there are times that I don't-ah. Like. It." He moved his face away, closing his eyes tightly like he was irritated. I shrunk from him, pressing myself tightly against the wall. He felt my movement and opened his eyes, looking at me curiously. "Scared of me, Shadow?"
"No, not of you," I said, plainly.
The Joker narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, about to say something when Ron yelled, "It's all set up for you, boss!"
The Joker turned his head and glared at Ron who was hanging out of the door, expectantly. "Can't you see that I'm busy?" he growled angrily.
Ron gave him an apologetic look. "Gee, sorry, boss. Thought you were right behind me."
"Get out of here!" the Joker said, offhandedly. Ron threw a wink in my direction as he walked toward us to move around. The Joker swung his arm out to hit him, but Ron ducked just in time and skipped down the hallway before slowly and turning around, walking backwards.
"Missed again, boss," Ron called. The Joker reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, aiming and pulling the trigger. A startled cry escaped my lips as the bullet bounced off the floor at Ron's feet, and Ron jumped, a surprised expression on his face.
"I won't-ah miss next time," the Joker growled, threateningly.
Ron turned and ran down the stairs two steps at a time.
"I al-ready have a rebel," the Joker murmured as he grabbed my arm and started toward the room Ron had left, pulling me along behind him.
The tech room – as the Joker had called it – was indeed a tech room. Of course, it wasn't like the high-quality or like what the cops or the FBI would have, but it was a tech room. It was small, maybe six by six feet with a desk, a swivel chair, and even a small cot on the floor, as if someone slept in this room. There were three TV screens with connecting wires sitting on the main part of the desk. They were all connected to a black laptop which sat waiting to be used. The room had a window, but a dark shade covered it, making the room dark besides the light coming from the laptop screen.
The Joker pulled me inside and closed the door, locking it, bolting it, and chaining it. It made me wonder if the Joker was the one who slept in this room from time to time to escape his men so that he didn't have to worry about being disturbed. I searched the wall for a light switch and found one, but when I flicked it on, no light came.
"No lightbulb, no wiring," the Joker told me simply, sounding forlorn. I turned, but he had moved over to the desk, opening a drawer and searching frantically through it. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and he pushed something on it before turning toward me. "C'mere," he told me, motioning me forward.
I stood my ground. "What is that?" I asked.
"It's not-ah going to hurt you," the Joker growled. He sounded impatient so rather than risk my health, I stepped forward. The Joker bounced at me, wrapping the thing around my neck and clasping it behind before I had a chance to protest. "Perfect," he commented.
"A collar?" I said, raising my fingers and touching the object.
"It's act-ually a choker," the Joker replied. "It has a tracker in it."
I narrowed my eyes, glaring at him. "Who said you could put a collar on me like I'm a dog?"
"You're my shadow, and, ah, I'm the dog."
"So you should be wearing the collar!"
The Joker laughed. "Oh no, Shadow. I'm the master, your master. I own you. You're mine. You're wearing the collar until I decide it, ah, comes off." He turned and took a slip of paper from the laptop. Turning back, he held it out toward me. "This is your victim's address. See if you can, ah, find it before the night's out-ah."
I blinked in disbelief. "I know nothing of Gotham City!"
"Then why'd you come here?" He turned his head slightly toward the light of the laptop screen, making his white face glow almost angelic. "Did you think that-ah Gotham was for tourists?" He shook his head. "Har-dly a tourist spot." The Joker placed the slip of paper in my jacket pocket and then brought a hand to my face. "You have until dawn, Shadow," he said, smacking my cheek lightly. "Don't dis-a p -point me."
Lordlink13: Hey, Sin, did you catch the Joker's liking for one cat? I was so tempted to give the cat a name, but that would show too much favoritism for one of my readers – not that I do have a favorite. I love you all so much; the love's shared to all those who actually leave reviews, really, because I feel like I connect more through reviews and author's notes. So anyway, I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you guys liked it. Leave a review before you go!