A/N: I know what you're thinking: Wow, she actually updated! Expect a bit more of that now that I'm on holidays (thank the lord). I've just finished mapping out each chapter, which makes the story a lot easier to write. At this point I predict that this fic will end up being around 15 chapters in length.
Happy reading!

6

The Joker pushed Isabelle away from him, and Isabelle whimpered as her arm moved, her shoulder grinding. She clasped her shoulder, feeling the bone and the socket. She looked up just in time to see the Joker leave the room, not bothering to close the door. Isabelle sank to the floor, holding her shoulder, trying not to cry anymore in front of these men. She flinched as one dropped to his haunches beside her. He was thin, very thin, with dirty blond hair that hung scraggily to his shoulders. Gently he took her arm. Not so gently her wrenched her arm up, and Isabelle screamed as her shoulder slid back into place. The man chuckled.

'Dollar for every time I've had to do that.'

Isabelle looked up at him, frowning, 'What?'

The man shook his head, brushing off the question. 'I'm Sly,' he introduced himself.

Isabelle nodded to him, 'Isabelle.'

Sly chuckled, 'Yeah, I know. Joker wouldn't stop going on about you after the bank.'

Isabelle wasn't sure if she should feel flattered or disgusted.

'Word of advice, though,' Sly continued, 'don't call him a freak, he doesn't like that.'

Isabelle grimaced, 'Noted.

She heard a rasping sound, and looked up in time to see the one of the men pulling Knife Girl's body across the room. She could see the smear of blood trailing behind her, and Isabelle grimaced and looked down at her hands.

Sly looked at her, 'You know, I'm surprised you even got a shot in. Not many people can get past her guard, much less stab her.'

Isabelle looked at him, 'She seemed distracted. Confused. She wasn't sure why I was there. She thought I was replacing her. Who was she?'

Sly looked at Isabelle carefully, 'Are you sure you want to know? I mean, I think this is what you're in for.'

Isabelle felt her resolve strengthen: 'I want to know.'

'Well, ok then. Her name was Peyton Riley. She started off like you, albeit a little crazier. Joker found her one day, talking to a dummy. I guess they kind of hit it off. Joker brought her back here and trained her up a little, sent her a little crazier, a little more dangerous. She'd been with us maybe two years?

'Then she got boring. She was doing the same old things, every day. I guess she liked the routine. Joker didn't. Their relationship got a little strained. It was around that time that Joker decided it was time for us all to stretch our legs, so to speak. We started drawing up plans to rob the bank. Peyton was meant to come with us… Well, she had been clingier than usual, so the Joker broke her ankle, so she couldn't come with. By chance, I had received a gun shot to my right arm, and Joker decided I should stay behind and babysit. I'm glad I did. If I hadn't, I would be dead right now. All of the men who went on the bank job were killed. All these boys you see around here are new.

'I don't think he was expecting to pick you up. I guess he saw you, thought of how annoying Peyton was, and decided you would be more fun. You also provided an easy way of getting rid of Peyton. And here we are.'

Isabelle sat on the table, digesting this information. Sly watched her curiously.

So at least I know I'm here for a reason, Isabelle thought, the new Peyton.

Being the new Peyton really wasn't the best place to be. Peyton had just died, and it appeared that the Joker had been abusing her, if he felt no qualms about breaking her ankle. Isabelle was angry. So the Joker fucking knew that Peyton was going to find her?! What if he hadn't made it back in time! She could have died!

'So what's he going to do to me then?' she demanded, looking at Sly. 'Am I going to be trained too? Will he get bored of me too? Will he kill me with my replacement?'

Sly looked uncomfortable. 'That's a possibility. Try not to make him bored, won't you?'

Isabelle glared at him. Her stomach growled.

'Do you have any food in here?'

Burgers, Isabelle reflected, were an underrated food. She sat at the kitchen table, munching on some sort of cheesy meaty concoction that she would normally never touch in a million years – she had always been a health nut, and her job at the gym hadn't helped matters. But now… now she could see the fascination. She took the final bite and sighed, leaning back against her chair, feeling nourished for the first time since she'd been taken. Cur, the man who had driven out for food, grinned at her, and patted his stomach. Isabelle grinned back – it was impossible to be afraid of these men. They were all so human, a welcome opposite from the Joker. She was given to understand that they didn't choose their names themselves – Joker named them after they had spent significant time with them. Kevin, it seemed, had not earned the right for a new name before he was killed.

Good riddance, Isabelle reflected, thinking of Kevin's less than honourable intentions.

'Poker!' yelled Striker, making Isabelle jump.

'You idiot,' said Sly. 'You don't yell poker when you've won.'

Striker gave a toothy smile, 'I do.'

Isabelle giggled, and sipped her beer. She had been coerced into being the fourth member in a round of poker, and, as she predicted, she was absolutely horrible at it. Nevertheless, she was having a better time hanging around with these men than she had ever thought she would, given the situation. Without the Joker in the room, she felt that she could breathe; he had such a constricting presence. When he was in the room, he was the sole focus. With him out of the picture Isabelle found that she could actually relax and try to have a good time.

Giving the game up as a bad job, she threw her cards down onto the table. Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she threw her head back and stretched, hissing as her shoulder strained.

'You ok?' Sly asked, concerned. She nodded. Isabelle still could not understand these men. How could they be so nice, yet work for the Joker? They acted like regular men – they drank beer, played cards, joked around – and yet they felt no qualms in killing innocent people. She supposed that it must have been the life they had been dealt. Surely it was unfortunate circumstance that brought them to be here. Isabelle looked sideways at Sly, who sipped his beer, staring off into space. Did he have a family? Was he coerced into this life, if only to ensure their safety? Isabelle couldn't bring herself to ask. It was such a personal question, and she wasn't sure that she would like the answer.

Before she could mull over it further, the door slammed open and the Joker strolled into the room. A wash of fear settled over Isabelle. She wasn't sure her body could stand another encounter with the Joker. Her cheek twinged at the thought. The psychopath in question looked jerkily around the room, until finally his eyes rested on Isabelle.

'Bells,' he said, his tongue flicking out to lick his scars briefly, 'No hard feelings, right?'

Isabelle was caught off guard.

'Uh,' she stuttered, before realising that there was only one appropriate response, 'N-no. No hard feelings.'

The Joker grinned, a hideous sight as his scars pulled out the corners of his lips, 'I'm so glad. I wouldn't want you to be mad at me, would I?'

Isabelle offered a weak grin in response. She didn't know how to act around this new Joker. It was extremely disarming the way he chopped and changed. It made her uncertain, and uncertainty was a sure way to get killed.

The Joker moved from the doorway, and threw himself down onto the chair next to Isabelle in a movement that would be ungraceful in any other man. Isabelle couldn't stop herself from leaning away slightly. The Joker just pressed himself closer to her, until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. She supposed this was just a new way of intimidating her, of keeping her uncomfortable in his presence. Isabelle could feel the hard muscles of his arm next to her. Her eyes travelled down to his purple gloves, and she shuddered when she saw that they were stained with blood. The Joker must have felt her movement, as he turned and grinned at her, before snapping off his gloves and putting them on the table.

'It's a messy job, wouldn't you say?' he said as an explanation (or so Isabelle assumed).

'What is? Killing people? I'd say so, yes,' Isabelle quipped, before shutting up and mentally kicking herself. Sly looked at her in disbelief, and she grimaced at him before looking out of the corner of her eye to see the Joker's reaction to her idiocy.

He was shaking silently, and it was a few seconds before she realised that it was silent laughter. Soon laughter was exploding out of him, manic hees and hoos that put Isabelle on edge. His crew must have been used to it, as they joined him in his laughter. Isabelle couldn't laugh. She was too put off by the man beside her.

Stop sassing him you fucking idiot. Here, what you say could get you killed.

The Joker's laughter died out, and he turned to look at her.

'I knew you be fun to have around,' he said. 'Didn't I say she would be fun?'

The crew nodded. Isabelle wasn't sure if she should take it as a compliment, so she said nothing. The Joker continued to grin at her, tapping his fingers against the table. It was strange seeing him without his gloves. His fingers were long and thin, littered with small scars. His nails were messy, as if they'd been ripped off more than a few times. Smudged greasepaint covered each finger. Isabelle wondered what kind of life he must have led to be left with hands such as these. She decided that she would prefer not to know.

'Am I gonna end up like Peyton?' she blurted out without thinking, then covered her mouth with a gasp. Now he knew exactly what she was afraid of.

The Joker looked amused, 'Do you think I would go to all the trouble of getting ya here if I didn't want you around?'

That made sense, Isabelle supposed, but she couldn't help but ask her next question, 'But what if you get bored? Will you find a replacement to kill me?'

She noticed that all of the crew's conversation had stopped, and the boys were glancing furtively at Isabelle and the Joker, trying to listen without looking like they were listening.

The Joker leant back in his chair, 'My advice to you is to not get boring.'

He turned to look at Isabelle, who gulped and nodded. How exactly does one refrain from becoming boring? she wondered to herself. Hopefully she was rescued before there was any danger of that happening.

Where the fuck is Batman?! He should have found her by now, what with his sneakiness and flying rodent ways. He was there at the fundraiser, but he couldn't find a simple little hideout? Wherever he was, Isabelle hoped he would get to her soon. The longer she stayed here, the higher the chance that she would suffer an early end.

Isabelle noticed the Joker looking at her up and down. Self-conscious, she crossed her arms and hunched.

'You need training,' the Joker announced, 'You're scrawny and underfed. Didn't Simon take care of you?'

Isabelle glared at him. How dare he talk about Simon, when he was the one that killed him. Her best friend. Her only friend. The Joker caught her glare, and chuckled in his manic way.

'Did he not like to take care of you? Did he not satisfy you?' he continued. The crew burst into laughter, and Isabelle, who had caught the double-entendre, saw red. Letting out a screech she threw a punch, which, in hindsight, had no hope of reaching its target. The Joker caught her fist, and laughed.

'Terrible form,' he said, glancing at his men, who laughed again.

Isabelle glowered, but bit her lip. She had to learn to control her temper.

'You know what would be fun?' the Joker asked her, squeezing her fist. Isabelle grimaced as her knuckles ground together. 'I'm going to train you myself. Wouldn't that be fun?'

Isabelle couldn't think of anything less fun, but nevertheless ground out, 'I look forward to it.'

The Joker chuckled, releasing her hand. Isabelle hissed as she straightened her sore fingers.

'You may not like my approach,' he said, 'but at least it'll be more fun for me to kill you if you ever get boring. Always liked a girl that fights back.'

Isabelle saw could see where he was going with this. On the one hand, if she learnt to fight, if he ever tried to kill her she would stand more of a chance. On the other hand, she couldn't see how 'training' with him was going to be a pleasant experience. One slip up and she may die anyway. However, Isabelle also knew that she didn't have a choice. She caught the Joker looking at her again.

'You look a little too fancy to be here,' he said, gesturing at her dress. 'Don't you boys think?'

The men all nodded.

'Can't have 'er lookin' better than you, boss,' Striker put in. Isabelle glared at him.

The Joker nodded, 'You're right. Bells, I think you need a new wardrobe. Isn't that a girls dream?'

Isabelle nodded tightly, seething. As much as she wanted to wear something else other than this now torn and dirty dress, she knew she wasn't going to like anything he got for her.

The Joker called Striker over, gesturing for him to lean down, before whispering something in his ear that Isabelle couldn't hear. Striker glanced over at Isabelle, grinned, and left the room.

Silence fell around the room as the men and Isabelle wondered what had been said. The Joker for his part resumed the drumming of his fingers on the table, adding a hum here and there in a tune that Isabelle had never heard before. Slowly, the men went back to their conversations, and Isabelle was left sitting at the table with the Joker, growing increasingly uncomfortable with his presence, although at the present moment he was ignoring her completely.

Soon enough, Striker returned. Isabelle blanched when she saw what he was holding. Peyton's leather suit dangled from his fist as he thrust it at her, Isabelle catching it reflexively.

'You… You want me to wear this?' she asked the Joker tentatively, though she already knew the answer.

'Don't you think, hmm?' the Joker replied, chuckling in his agitated way.

Isabelle nodded, looking down at the outfit. It was still wet with Peyton's blood, and her fingers were stained with it.

'Where… where can I –' she faltered.

'Where can you get changed?' the Joker asked, and Isabelle nodded mutely.

'Well the boys promise not to look, don't they?' he asked the room. A chorus of promises resounded around the room. The Joker nodded, satisfied.

'There you go,' he said, 'the boys and I promise we won't peek.'

Isabelle stared at him. Did he really mean to make her strip right here with them all in the room. She opened her mouth to refuse, but paused when she feel a cool blade on her forearm. The Joker tapped the blade against her skin, and Isabelle nodded tightly.

The Joker withdrew the weapon and turned away from her, comically covering his eyes with his hand, and motioning for the crew to do the same. Isabelle realised that this was just another way for the Joker to manipulate her. He was showing her the exact level of control that he had, and he clearly revelled in making her uncomfortable in the process. Him making her strip wasn't for any perverse pleasure, she realised, but a way reminding Isabelle once again whom she was with.

Isabelle reached up with trembling hands to undo the halter of her dress. The knot was tight, and Isabelle's shaking fingers couldn't quite work the knot. Suddenly, she felt a blade pass between her fingers, and a jerk the halter was cut. Barely managing to catch the dress in time as it fell towards her waist, Isabelle turned around and glared at the Joker.

'You're welcome,' he said. The crew seemed to take his speaking as permission to look around. Holding the sheared ends of the dress, Isabelle scowled at each of them in turn, willing them to turn back around. In return she was bombarded with winks and crude gestures. Her cheeks reddening, she grabbed the leather jacket with one hand, wincing as her fingers grew sticky with blood. She quickly put an arm at a time through the sleeves, using one hand to stop her breasts from spilling out of the ruined dress. Isabelle realised with revulsion that the leather was still warm, and she shuddered. She quickly zipped it up. It was tight across the chest – evidently she was bustier than Peyton had been. To Isabelle's annoyance the zip stopped only halfway up her breasts, leaving a hell of a lot of cleavage showing. She was uncomfortably conscious of the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, and she hoped to god that she didn't get cold any time soon. The jacket was loose in the arms though – evidence of Isabelle's lack of muscle. She quickly stepped into the leather pants, letting the dress pool around her ankles. The pants hung low on her hips, leaving a small gap of skin between them and the jacket. The pants, too, were slightly loose.

Self-consciously, Isabelle turned around to face the Joker. He smiled at her, showing all of his yellow teeth.

'Just like a doll,' he said, and Isabelle shuddered.

Woo! Longest chapter yet! This was just over 3000 words, and I expect that each chapter will be roughly this. Shout-out to Peyton Riley! I know that she and the Joker never met in the comics (at least as far I can tell), but I couldn't resist slipping her in there.
I am also aware that Isabelle spends a ridiculous amount of time glaring at people. I think that glaring has become her default face.
Review review review! (seriously, reviews keep me motivated to write)