A/N: Hello readers! Sorry this chapter is a tad short, I'm trying to make up for it with a faster upload. School has started up again and my workload is ridiculous, so I'll try to squeeze in another chapter soon.
In other news, DC has just released its new movies coming out, and Suicide Squad is coming out in 2016! I'm hoping for Harley Quinn!
Happy reading!
xo Alice
4
Isabelle's wrists hurt, and her shoulders were screaming. Her arms were hoisted high above her head, the coarse rope around her wrist attached to a metal hook hanging from the ceiling. The balls of her feet only just touched the rough cement of the floor. She was completely immobile. Isabelle looked around. The Joker's men were sitting around the room in various states of unease, glancing at her nervously before looking away. She couldn't understand it; why hadn't any of them made a move? The Joker was gone, in another room. He'd dragged her in, tied her up, and then left.
Isabelle cleared her throat, 'Uh, hello?'
The men looked at her, and then looked away quickly. Were they scared of her?
No, that can't be right. They're not scared of me… Oh. Of course. It's the Joker they're scared of. I guess they think I belong to him.
Isabelle frowned. 'Are you not allowed to look at me? Is that it?'
'Shut-up, girl,' a heavyset man growled, his eyes not leaving his beer.
Isabelle ignored him. 'Where am I?'
'I said, shut it!' the same man yelled, getting to his feet, sloshing beer onto the table. His friend, a scrawny guy with messy hair, pulled him down again, whispering into his ear. Isabelle frowned, but was distracted by a new pull in her muscles. She shifted uncomfortably, swearing under her breath. The sound of the door opening caught her attention, and she looked up. The Joker entered the room. His coat was clean, his shirt and waistcoat neat. Amusingly, he was wearing the exact same style and colour of clothes that he had been on all of the previous times she had seen him. She smirked to herself, imagining rows of matching shirts and coats, all lined up.
The Joker cleared his throat, 'Boys, we have a job. We're going to make a visit.'
There was an excited murmuring around the room as the men stood up, some finishing off their drinks, some finding their jackets, others loading ammunition in guns. The Joker watched them, as hunched as ever, fiddling distractedly with a knife. His eyes flicked manically around the room, until they landed on Isabelle, still in her dress and heels. She strained against the ropes, discomforted by the intensity of his gaze. One of the men followed the Joker's line of site.
'Uh, boss?' he asked, 'whose going to watch after the girl?'
The Joker looked at him, 'No-one misses a job in my crew. Unless they're injured.' He looked around the room again, at the men lined up in front of him. He pulled out a gun, and Isabelle tensed. He looked at her, and fired a shot. The heavyset man who had told her to shut-up hit the ground, groaning and holding his thigh. Isabelle gasped as blood welled up around his clutching fingers, staining his trouser leg.
The Joker glanced down at him in what looked like amusement, and then back at Isabelle, 'The boys and I are taking care of some business. Patrick Harvey and Richard Dent.' He giggled, 'Kevin here will look after you.'
Kevin looked up at Isabelle, who flinched at the hate in his eyes. She looked down at her feet, knowing she was the reason for his pain. The rest of the men filed out, not even sparing a glance for Kevin as they stepped around him.
'I'm sorry,' Isabelle whispered. Kevin looked up at her, and slowly stood, groaning as he put pressure on his leg.
'Just a graze,' he said, 'Boss knows how to aim.'
He gave a light chuckle that was at odds with the look on his face. Isabelle frowned, and followed Kevin's line of site. Mounted in the corner was a camera, a little red light blinking.
So that's why no-one tried anything.
Kevin casually crossed the room, coming to a pained stop directly underneath the camera. Isabelle realised that anybody watching the footage would no longer be able to see him. He reached up and pulled the cord out of the socket. The little red light stopped blinking.
'What are you doing?' Isabelle asked nervously. Kevin looked at her.
'You bitch,' he hissed, the fake cheeriness replaced by outright animosity.
Isabelle rolled her eyes, 'It's not my fucking fault if your boss kidnapped me.'
'Well you caught his attention, didn't you?' Kevin replied, manoeuvring awkwardly around the table, 'That's your fault.'
'I guess I'm noticeable,' Isabelle hissed, straining heavily against the ropes. She was getting more and more uncomfortable with the way Kevin was looking at her, and, as usual, she covered up her uneasiness with a smart mouth. Not the best way to deflate a dangerous situation.
'Yes,' Kevin said, leaning heavily on a chair, 'you are.'
'Don't you think you should bandage your leg or something?' Isabelle asked desperately, trying to take his mind off whatever he was about to do to her. He looked down. His trousers were stained a rusty brown, but the blood seemed to have stopped flowing.
'I've had worse,' Kevin grunted. He looked at her, top to bottom. 'I can see why the boss likes you. Not too bad to look at, are you? Except for, you know, the scar.'
He had gotten alarmingly close, and he reached out a hand to touch her maimed cheek. Isabelle jerked back.
'Get the fuck away from me,' she hissed.
Kevin brought his hand back and slapped her hard across the face. She sagged, the ropes supporting her entire weight, her face smarting with pain. Kevin gave a little chuckle.
'Not so tough now, are you,' he said, stepping closer to her. He ran a hand leisurely up her waist, lingering at the edge of her breast. Isabelle tried to shy away, but the ropes didn't allow much movement. Kevin chuckled again. Isabelle took a breath to curse at him again, but Kevin put his hand over her mouth.
His hand smells like cheese. Ew.
'I wouldn't try that again, darling,' Kevin said smarmily, 'not unless you want another bruise.'
Isabelle bit down on his hand, hard. She could feel her teeth ripping his skin, and she gagged at the metallic taste of his blood in her mouth. Kevin gave a loud yell and yanked his hand away, swearing.
'Don't call me darling,' Isabelle growled. Kevin looked up from his injured hand and blanched at the site she made. Her lips were smeared with blood. Combined with the scar on her cheek, the bruise forming on her cheekbone, and the manic look in her eyes, she made quite the picture.
'C – crazy bitch!' Kevin stuttered, nursing his hand. Hobbling on his injured leg around the table, he picked up his gun and released the safety. Isabelle paled.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Kevin laughed. 'Not so confident now, are you. You can't bite a fucking gun.'
Isabelle tried a smile, but Kevin saw his blood on her teeth and cocked his gun.
'The boss won't miss you,' he said, swinging the gun up to her head. Isabelle closed her eyes.
'Now, now, now,' the Joker said from the doorway. Isabelle opened her eyes a crack. 'I would have thought shooting her would not fall under the same, uh, category as looking after her.'
Great, now the crazy one is here to liven things up.
Kevin cracked a weak smile. 'I wasn't actually gonna shoot her boss, just… you, know, threaten her a bit.'
'Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,' the Joker murmured, crossing the room in long, jittery steps. Kevin shrank back. 'I always know when you're lying. Don't I always know when you're lying?'
Kevin nodded mutely, pale and sweating.
'I can't have, uh, liars in my crew, can I?' the Joker said.
Isabelle hardly dared to breath. She had never truly appreciated how scary the Joker was. She knew he was a murderer, a psychopath, fit for the Asylum; but categorising him, putting him into boxes had helped her to understand his actions, to justify them. He's crazy, of course he's out there murdering people. After he had shot Simon she was in too much shock to process it, to think about it. But seeing the Joker here, terrorising one of his own men, Isabelle realised something. He wasn't only a murderer, a psychopath, insane; he was inhuman.