**Here's chapter two, uncharacteristically fast. Updates will most definitely take a little longer than a few hours from here on out, but at least this gives a better idea of where this is headed!
Disclaimer mumbo: I do not own any of this fictional work aside from ones of my own creation!**
Upstairs, Arella was singing to herself through a ventilation mask as one of her favorite songs played on the iPod. She was applying a varnish coating to another painting so that it wouldn't be ruined once she covered it and placed it in storage. The second one that she had worked on today. Hopefully, at this rate, she'd be done by the end of the week with all of the paintings that were in the lab waiting for her attention. She stepped back with the large paint brush in hand, admiring the painting for a long moment. It was one of her favorites in the collection, an oversized art noveu piece that was strongly reminiscent of Gustav Klimt. She gave it a wistful smile before turning to set the brush down for a moment. When she did, however, she froze seeing two clowns standing in the doorway, eyeing her hungrily as they both toted large guns in their hands. Her mouth dropped as they all stare at each other for a long moment in silence. She had seen enough news stories to realize what those masks meant and who they worked for. But her mind couldn't seem to process the danger that had just interrupted what had initially been a serene moment.
"Hey there, girlie." One of them cocked his head to the side, his mouth hidden by the clown mask. "Why'd you stop?"
She didn't reply, taking a slow step back, looking around for the alternative escape route that she knew wasn't there.
"She's cute, isn't she." The clown turned to his friend, tilting his head towards her.
"Boss said to kill whoever we find." The second one grumbled, raising his gun, causing Arella to squeak, jumping back.
"We will." The first one placed a hand on the gun, lowering it. "But mind as well have a little fun with her first." He handed his gun to the second goon, already reaching down and beginning to unbuckle his belt excitedly. "If she gets close to the door, then you can shoot her."
"Five minutes." The second goon grumbled. "Or else I shoot you both."
"No." Arella said softly, reaching blindly for the counter behind her and trying to side step the man coming for her. "No. No. No." She shook her head quickly as she searched for another escape. She had no doubts that the man guarding the door wouldn't hesitate to shoot her and all the windows in the room were sealed for what was supposed to be protection. Maybe if she could smash them she could get through them before she managed to get shot. She glanced behind her before looking back at the man advancing towards her, slowly unzipping his pants as if to tease her. Her eyes darted behind her quickly again before she suddenly turned, making a run for the windows, still only holding the paint brush. The goon only laughed, grabbing her around the waist before she managed to make it two steps away. She finally screamed as loud as she could, immediately beginning to kick and claw at the arms around her. Her new heels may have foiled her initial escape plan, but they were killer weapons.
The goon gave an annoyed growl in her ear, attempting to rip off the ventilation mask but only managing to pulling it further up on her head as he finally managed to force her around to face him, shoving her back against the wall as she began to cry. He gave a breathless laugh, wrapping his hand around her neck and squeezing as the fingers from his second hand yanked the hem of her dress up to her hips.
She coughed, screaming still as she clawed at his face, ripping the mask off and taking some skin with it. She whimpered, desperately reaching to grab lower now. She couldn't believe this was happening right now and there was no one there who cared to stop it. She raised her tear stained brown eyes to the second goon momentarily in the desperate hope that he would help her but he hadn't moved a muscle and she knew he wouldn't. A feeling of helplessness that she hadn't felt in years caused her to stop struggling momentarily as a sob escaped her lips. Every mistake that she had made in the past week leading up to this point seemed to run through her head. She should have taken the news reports seriously, should have realized that the Joker and his men had no boundaries; not in Gotham anyway. How stupid could she have been to think she was safe here, or at her apartment? Then again, had she ever been safe? She had done such a good job crafting a bubble for herself to live in that she had gotten to comfortable. Even still, all she wanted to do was go back to that bubble. Maybe if she just calmed down and let it happen, they'd let her live. The feel of the man's hand at the lining of her underwear was enough to bring her out of her frozen state. She let out another scream that turned into a growl as she reached down below the goon's now exposed cock, wrapping her hands tightly around his balls and squeezing with all her might, digging her nails in his most sensitive areas which led to the him letting out an angry shout that reminded her of a dying animal. He pulled his hands away from her and instinctually punched her twice in the gut forcing a guttural groan from her as they both released each other. Him to double over in an attempt to lessen his pain and her to fall to the floor in agony with a cry. She quickly yanked the dress back down, starting to crawl to the door before stopping and looking up at the second goon who was pointing the gun at her still.
"Please." She begged in a voice that she almost didn't recognize. "Please let me go. Please." She begged, still on her hands and knees.
The man didn't reply, letting out a dry chuckle.
"I won't tell. I promise I-" She cut herself off as another scream came out when a pair of large hands grabbed her waist, dragging her backwards across the floor even as she clawed the wood, trying to stop him. He grabbed the back of her neck, pushing her to the floor and crawling on top of her, straddling her back as he leaned closer to her ear. "It's going to feel so good to kill you after this." He yanked her skirt back up as he sat up straight. She could feel his erection against her upper thigh, already leaking excitedly with pre cum. Another sob escaped her throat as she punched the floor angrily, knowing that she was stuck. He was too heavy to move from this position and she had the sinking feeling that any struggling would only make it feel that much better for him. Instead she squinted her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable violation. Perhaps she deserved it. It was rare that women made it out of her neighborhood unscathed and she had made it longer than most. It was stupid to think she could simply run away and pretend her childhood never existed and now this man was here to remind her. Suddenly, the sound of two bursts of machine gun fire forced another scream from her mouth and her hands flew to her head as a guard, as if it would have actually saved her. She lay still for what seemed like forever, positive that she had been hit and that death would be coming any moment. The feel of her attacker's heavy body falling against her back forced her confused eyes open. It was the voice that brought the fear full circle however.
"You know," The nasely voice started, forcing her eyes upwards. "It is… So…hard-ah to find a decent criminal these days." He threw his hand in the air dramatically with a shake of the head as if she understood completely.
She froze, looking towards the doorway where one guard was lying in a pool of blood. It was then that she noticed the warmth seeping through the back of her dress and a sinking feeling descended on her stomach. With a whimper, her head turned hesitantly to look behind her where she was immediately met by the surprised eyes of the dying second goon no more than two inches away from her own. A shriek filled the air as she pushed the body off of her, flipping over and scrambling as far away from the body as possible, all the while frantically rubbing her arms in a vain attempt to remove the blood. The mask that was still perched precariously on her head fell to the floor with a loud clatter, the noise startling her even further. It took her another minute for her to calm down enough to look back up at the Joker who was standing in front of the painting she had been working on only minutes before. His hands on his waist as he bent forward with a contemplative scowl that hovered only inches away from the wet varnish, seemingly oblivious to the fact she was still in the room, much less that she was freaking out. The silence calmed her momentarily as she stare at the man before her in terrified awe. The man who had single handedly brought the city to its knees and killed countless citizens. The man she had been warned about for years was now only a few feet away from her. If she thought she was scared before, the fear she felt now would surely kill her.
Suddenly the silence was broken by a giddy cackle as he finally stood up straight, seemingly having gleaned everything from the painting he wanted. "Now this…" he started with his back to her still. "This is art-ah." He pressed his hands together in a single clap, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the large canvas as if he was a normal art connosoir in a museum and not in this insane situation, not bothering to turn around. "I knew I picked the right place." He said with a happy growl, waving his knife at the painting, a move that filled Arella with fear. She looked towards the now open doorway. With the Joker enthralled in the painting, there was a chance she could make it out of the room before he had a chance to aim. He seemed to read her mind, however as she shifted on the floor.
"Ah Ah ah." He waved the gun over his shoulder as a warning, continuing to study the painting.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she froze, wrapping her arms around herself slowly so as not to alarm him. Maybe he would let her go, still. It was quite possible that all he wanted was the painting. It was definitely worth enough for an art heist, and he did save her.
Finally he turned around with a grin. "I'll take it." He said simply, leaning against the nearby counter as if waiting for her to do something.
She looked up at him uncertainly, still rooted to her spot on the floor as the corners of his mouth quickly turned down into a frown as he studied her. His patience quickly wore thin as he stood up straight with a grunt, carelessly tossing the gun on the counter and pulling a stained knife from his pocket as he closed the distance between them in three quick steps causing her to shrink away from him, tightening her arms around herself tighter with a whimper and turning away from him.
"Hey dum-dum." He reached out with his knife free hand, knocking on her head as if he were knocking on a door. "Anyone in there?" He grabbed her arm, yanking her off the floor roughly and shoving her towards the work. "I said wrap it up. I'm taking it." he mimed the act of carrying an object as if she were a child.
She stood briefly, knowing that she had to make a move before the Joker turned on her. She gave the work one last look before looking down at her feet. "No." She said finally, barely above a whisper, unable to stop the tremors that began to go through her body.
The Joker leaned forward, cupping his hand to his ear and squinting. "Come again?"
"I can't." She corrected quickly. "It's…wet."
"Wet?" He repeated with a shrieking giggle. "Did you-ah-did you just finish painting it?"
She nodded slowly biting her lip as she tried to find her voice again, still not looking up at him. "Varnish." It would be really great if at some point, she could find the strength to form complete sentences. But while looking at the Joker was intimidating, not being able to see his movements was terrifying. Even with his slouched posture, he towered over her, and as animated as his face was, she had no idea how to read his ever changing emotions. More so, her adrenaline was beginning to wear low and the pain from being mauled and physically assaulted was steadily kicking in. She placed a hand on her head feeling a mixture of a migraine and nausea coming on.
The Joker finally stopped laughing though a lazy smile remained on his lips as he leaned over against the counter again and crossing both his arms and ankles. "What's wrong, dollface?" He questioned as if truly interested. "You feel ill? Hmm?" he tilted his head to the side with a contemplative frown.
She didn't reply, shutting her eyes as she tried to tune out the sound of his voice along with the pain she was feeling. It was precisely the wrong thing to do. Before she realized what was happening, before she heard him, she felt him grab her chin roughly and shake her head back and forth with a growl as if trying to wake her up. The motion was enough to force her to push away from him and run to a corner of the room, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor.
The Joker giggled again walking up behind her as his bad mood seemed to dissipate almost immediately. "You know, you could have just….answered me sweet cheeks. Speaking from a purely…theatrical view;" He held his arms out dramatically as he hovered over her, completely unfazed by the sights and sounds of her sickness. "This is just overkill." He said teasingly.
He gave her a moment to wipe her mouth before reaching out and grabbing her chin again, yanking her up to face him so that their bodies were uncomfortably pressed together. Embarrassment forced her to avert her gaze. It was silly, but she was feeling highly self-conscious about the smell of vomit on her breath. She highly doubted he would notice anyway judging by his poor oral hygiene and she realized that it was trivial at this point, but she already felt like her dignity had been stripped away from her. At this point she wasn't sure how much she had left. The Joker wasn't having any of it though, forcing her face towards him. "Look at me." He said in an almost calm, sing songy voice.
She raised her eyes to him, taking in his appearance in its entirety for the first time. It seemed cliché to say that he was absolutely terrifying, but the picture she always saw on the news didn't do him justice. It was his scars that she heard people speak about most often, and for good reason. They were disgusting to look at. The ridged haphazard texture alone seemed to tell a story of a man who had gone through hell to get them. What made it worse, however, was the way he showcased them. The red makeup spread across them made them look constantly wet, as if they were still oozing after all this time. He obviously enjoyed them, the attention he received, the fear they instilled, and the way they contorted with his rapidly changing expressions. She wouldn't be surprised if that was why he seemed so animated all the time, just to feel them. It'd be even less surprising if she were to find out he did the scars himself. But as disgusting as they were, it was his eyes that kept her frozen in her place. Surrounded with the black eye makeup, he looked like he was in a constant state of anger, no matter the emotion his grin transferred. Even staring directly into them, she couldn't tell what color his eyes were. What she could tell was that she had been wrong that day that now seemed so long ago. There wasn't an ounce of regret in those eyes, just pure, unfettered joy. And that scared her more than anything.
He allowed her to take in his face for a moment, even opening his mouth to stretch the scars as he cracked his neck before raising the knife in his hand to stroke her arm, almost gently though not allowing her to turn her head to stare at the knife in horror. The simple action was torturing her, and he knew it. Finally, he broke the awkward silence with a low voice that had removed all of the previous lyrical notes. "Did you know you were wearing my favorite color? Hmm?" He tilted his head closer to her so that he could look her straight in the eye, nodding his head as if to answer his own question before his tongue darted out against the scar carving his lower lip. "It's like you knew…just. How. To. Flatter. me." He moved the knife to her collarbone, tapping against each one to match his syllables. "And I am.." He pulled away ever so slightly so that he could give her a slow look, up and down. "flattered." He growled before gnashing and baring rows of yellow teeth at her in a short lived grin. Arella felt like she was going to vomit again. She was almost certain she could feel the beginnings of an erection on against her hip, but it could be the trauma clouding her interpretation of the situation.
"Now." He continued in a gentle voice normally reserved for misbehaved children, using the knife to brush a mess of stray hair out of his face before returning it to her neck, tracing it back and forth as if creating an invisible line for him to follow when he was ready to slit her throat. "When I ask you if you're ill, what do you say?" He looked at her expectantly
"Yes." She managed to squeak out. Afraid to move her throat much for fear of being cut.
"Yes." He repeated slowly, forcing her to nod, though much gentler this time. "And when someone saves you from being torn apart-" He frowned as he annunciated the words as if they physically pained him to say it. "-by overzealous henchmen?"
She swallowed, not believing she was having this conversation right now. Either way, she didn't want to keep him waiting. "Thank you?"
He let out a broad grin, finally stepping away from her with his arms out to the emphasizing mock amazement as his voice returned to the clown like notes she was familiar with. "It can be taught." He spun to the rest of the room as if there was an audience watching the show. He turned back to her, waving the knife at her again. "I like you." His tongue flicked out again as he nearly skipped towards her. "Tell you what, kid. I consider myself a-ah-connesoir of sorts." He gestured with the knife. "And I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I undid all of your work." He pressed his hands to his heart and tilted his head with a small bow. He was making fun of her, she could tell that much, but she'd just stand here and take it. It was all she could do…all she was willing to do. She had long ago figured that even if she did make it to the door, he probably had plenty more goons throughout the museum. She couldn't think of a scenario where she made it out of this room alive and as much as it scared her to admit, she was slowly coming to terms with that. Even as he spoke, she being to make amends in her mind, trying to go to a place in her head that relaxed her. She kept alternating between her cozy apartment and the night before at Shawn's place. It didn't matter which one she settled on, or which was the last, she was content with both. The Joker seemed oblivious to her dazing, however as he continued. Oblivious or uncaring, she wasn't sure, not that it mattered much. He was going to kill her, at this point she was just hoping that he'd make it fast.
"So." He stepped close enough to jolt her out of her dazing, lifting the knife to her neck again and pressing just enough to draw a small line of blood. He watched it ooze for a moment before leaning in her ear. "How about I show you a little magic trick instead?"
With that, Arella could slowly feel the summation of the dwindling adrenaline, the unfathomable amounts of pain, and the indescribable terror working against her and pulling her down into a dark hole that she feared she may never return from. She blinked slowly, struggling to stay alert as the Joker studied her face with interest, pulling the knife away from her throat. He wanted her to answer him, she knew he did. But when she attempted to open her mouth in reply, the darkness overtook her and the room begin to fade around her, leaving her with the terrifying rumbling of the Joker's laughter in her ears.
When Arella finally came to, the first thing she was able to register was the intense pain in her face and body as everything that had just happened came flooding back. Almost instantaneously, she took in the clear blue sky above her, realizing she was lying on the museum grass. She had made it out. Somehow, she had survived, and that was enough right now. A small smile crept along her lips as she lay there, almost perfectly still, feeling more peaceful than she had felt in a while. Before she worked at the museum, she would come out to the grounds as a college student and do just this. It was something that she immediately promised herself she would do more often. Once she found the strength to get up, she would go to the doctor for a checkup, find the most expensive psychiatrist she could afford, maybe take an extended vacation to London with Shawn, then come back and lay just like this. She began to make all kinds of plans that immediately came crashing down upon her like a wall of brick upon hearing one nasally, annoying, life changing voice.
"Welcome back, doll face." He said, seconds before his face came into her field of view, blocking the beautiful clear blue sky like the imposing shadow that he was.
She groaned softly, about to close her eyes again but being awoken by a slap on the cheeks. It was then that she remembered the events upstairs which had spared her facial harm. The reason her face hurt so bad right now was due to the Joker's repeated slaps. She immediately cringed, bringing her hand to her cheek.
"No, no." He kneeled above her, sliding his hands beneath her back and lifting her almost effortlessly into a sitting position. "Trust me; you are going to want to see this." He quickly sat behind her in the grass, setting his knees on either side of her to prop up her arms.
Arella felt disgusted, attempting to pull away from him but he gripped her shoulder with a firm gloved hand holding her body in place. She did manage to hold her head up with much difficulty, however. As much as it pained her, she'd be damned if she allowed herself to rest her head on his chest. Directly in front of her, she could see the museum in its entirety, standing peacefully as if nothing had happened.
"Nora…"She managed to mumble, realizing that her coworkers weren't outside with her.
"Oh your friends?" He replied with a sneer, speaking over her shoulder to her. "They're unharmed, still inside and waiting on the boys in blue to come and save them." He sniggered. Something about the way he emphasized the word 'save' caused her stomach to drop to the ground. She had no idea what he was planning, but she was terrified to find out. He perked up as he said it as if he were a dog listening to the sounds of scurrying prey. An apt analogy, she thought to herself.
"Looks like they're almost here." He sang as the sounds of sirens became clearer, lifting her arms and treating her like a puppet, flailing them around excitedly before she jerked them out of his grasps, angrily. He ignored this, however. " .time." He muttered before pulling something out of his coat pocket and ignoring her completely now as his eyes narrowed onto the line after line of police car descending upon the museum. His fingers began to fiddle with the object incessantly as he also began muttering to himself. "Come ooon. Come on. Comeon." He said repeatedly to himself almost as if forgetting anyone else was there. Arella stole a glance over at his hand, wondering what it was that had gotten him so excited. When she did, however, she wished she hadn't. She didn't know a lot about explosives, but she had watched enough action movies to recognize what he held in his hand as a detonator. She gasped, looking back towards the museum that was now surrounded by at least 6 cop cars and a swat van. She couldn't just sit by and watch him destroy her life's work. Not to mention all of the people and her friends. He said he wouldn't, that he couldn't. Not that she was ever under the illusion that this man, this animal was something that could be trusted, but even though she had seen the evidence many times before that his lust for destruction went above and beyond what she would have considered possible for a single man, she was ashamed to say that she had underestimated him. As if he would ever be content with a simple art heist. She closed her eyes for a split second, grasping for a taste of the peace she felt just a few minutes before letting out a slow sigh, opening her eyes, and lunging her body towards the detonator.