miss coconuts – Thank you for thinking it's interesting! The story's going to get pretty dark fast, starting with this chapter…
01031989 – Glad to know the Joker's all right so far character-wise. Thank you!
Mifey – Yeah, I'm trying to. This is the first time I've ever written anything in haiku of this length. I sometimes lose track of the amount of syllables so thanks for letting me know of this. :)
Emily Hargreaves – Thank you very much!
D, quicksilver2402004 – Thanks for your comments!
Dolze, XPrettyXWomanX17X, Gopher, DisturbedBeauty – Thank you for liking the Joker haiku. :)
Taylor – I can't believe this fic was actually recommended by someone. Thank you for reading it!
eliza a. – Thank you for thinking so highly of this story. :D
II
This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening. As cliché as it sounds, I wish it's a dream or more appropriately, some twisted nightmare. I mean, how could a party dedicated to your soon-to-be-husband Harvey Dent's success as district attorney of Gotham City morph into a hostage situation by a bunch of gun-wielding clowns? Isn't there something wrong with that picture?
To top it off, having their leader single you out for actually displaying concern towards your fellow human beings -
Wait a minute. Is he...smoothing out his hair?
This man…this creature…I don't know what to call him. He doesn't look human, more like one of those "Death's Head" images personified. Dull white face paint splattering his visage combined with black paint giving him raccoon circles for eyes remind me markedly of a skull. Adding more morbid curiosity to his appearance, if possible, is that tattered red line connecting his cheeks that's supposed to be a mouth. The nearer to me he gets, I can make out deep scarring along the area even the cherry-hued lipstick couldn't completely cover up. And the bizarreness doesn't stop at the neck; his outfit…that purple, crazy-quilt suit…that, in itself, is something else. After only seeing him, the Joker before I forget, on a television screen, I realize high-definition can never capture his demonic intensity from real life. It has to be experienced first-hand and that experience is unfortunately one of mine.
Now here he is and here am I, a few feet separating us and growing smaller with each step his dirty shoes take. What is he doing in the name of god? I hear he's unpredictable but this is outrageous. He does not need to be this close to ask where Harvey is. There must be something more, I just know it…
For all my time wondering, the Joker gobbles my remaining personal space and I feel his unexpectedly cool breath fan my skin. Before I'm conscious of what it is, the sensation vanishes for the Joker starts circling me as a vulture would with a carcass. I can tell his gaze is on me despite me obviously not having 360 degree vision. It's an instinctive thing which is strange because I'm never one for instinct. However, there is nothing in me that questions how anxious I'm getting the longer he's sustaining this "observation" of sorts. I can't imagine what it will lead up to. Is he thinking of how he's going to kill me? Just for interrupting him?
My shoulders encounter a random pressure upon them from the back and I would jump were it not for the strict control I place over my reflexes. As it turns out, it's the Joker's hands that cause it, gripping me to the point where his nails would definitely leave marks if they weren't covered by leather gloves. The Joker himself is confirmed when his head brushes against my own, settling between it and my shoulder. I try my hardest to be as still as I can; I don't want him to see me vulnerable. Then those oppressive hands of his pull me flush into a lean yet wiry torso and I clamp my eyes shut.
There really is no escape. I can sense the Joker everywhere and god help me, it's terrifying. He's close enough to cause suffocation, close enough so that I'm forced to acknowledge he's as physically alive as I am and not a walking corpse, far from any hallucinated bogeyman. A person who's been given such descriptions shouldn't feel this real in the first place.
I breathe with bated breath as the Joker shifts, leaning his rotting head further over my shoulder, his warm lips grazing my jugular vein. Does he take me as literal prey? I'm not sure if I'll be able to stomach the answer. The Joker, seemingly wanting to prove that assumption, inhales deeply, generating countless shivers throughout my body and in response, my eyes snap wide open. His rumbling growl afterwards creates tremors that travel onto me due to our stifling proximity. During these theatrics, I dare not move an inch, partly from fear of course, partly from disbelief at how could this happen, and partly, I'll grudgingly admit, from fascination at his unrestrained behavior in front of all these people. It's truly unlike anything I have ever seen.
Again, I fail to keep track of the Joker's odd rhythm of movement and so I'm unprepared when he jerkily spins me around to face him. On a "bright" note, I finally receive his facial features at a better viewpoint. This is horrible but...I'm drawn towards him on a greater level than rather entirely shutting him off. Electricity literally flows about his figure, though it's a scary kind, and it thrills me. I guess his power to inspire awe in others is why it's possible for him to run his own gang in spite of his chaotic nature.
Dragging me to him till we're a breath apart, the Joker cradles my head in a disturbingly intimate gesture. "Say," he begins low and husky, addressing me at last. Ruthlessly, his dark eyes blaze a trail past my inner defenses. They manage to put me in a daze until it's too late to register the knife digging into my throat, on the area where he had his lips no less. The surrounding party guests share themselves in my latest shock of the evening.
"...you wouldn't happen to know where Dent is, do you?" the Joker casually asks while not-so-casually prodding the blade's tip underneath the base of my chin. I'm officially positive I'm a goner and -
No, damn it! I'm not going to be a victim anymore! I'm not that same woman from two years ago, I've changed! This is no different than the toxin or the Narrows Attack. I've been through too much to remain this way. I have to be strong for everyone here, for Harvey…for Bruce.
Summoning my courage, I offer the Joker a fierce glare in return for the one he's presenting me, ignoring the pain the knife is causing. "He went home," I state confidently, proud that my skills as a lawyer manage to provide a plausible excuse for Harvey's absence and prouder still that I don't stumble on issuing it. "He got sick...and he left."
The Joker withdraws his knife, moving back a couple of steps, and for a moment, I believe I fool him. He looks at me, expression deadpan as I earnestly hope mine is. Nevertheless, I feel fresh pangs of uncertainty when the Joker slowly bends his neck down to meet my height. "You look nervous," he whispers before flicking his tongue like a serpent. I flinch, not bothering to hide my disgust.
"Are you sure?" the Joker drawls on. "Why would Dent leave his date unattended?"
Uneasiness fills my gut; I remain silent. My lie's been caught and we're both aware of it for how can I counterattack such a valid factor?
The Joker gives me a knowing smile. "Well," he cocks his head to the side, playing with the word, "maybe 'Mister Dent,'" the Joker nods over to the right in suggestion, "won't mind if I..." Deliberately holding back the end of his sentence, the Joker uses the self-made pause to teasingly raise his eyebrows. "...treat myself?"
Future inquiries are not present now from this woman. It's clear as crystal from his hooded leer and grab at the sleeve of my dress what he wants and frankly, I'll be having none of it. Enough is enough.
"Get away from me!" I yelp, smacking at the Joker's wandering hand with all the strength I have, the second time in my life I've actively expressed anger. There will be hell for resisting him, I'm sure.
Surprisingly, my act of defiance doesn't affect the Joker's mood whatsoever. He simply hoists himself to his feet and laughs. "A little fight in you," he says, licking his lips, "I like that."