Tonight, You're Gonna Break Your One Rule

The next morning is a painful awakening, and a cold one, since there's nobody next to me like there was a few hours ago. I wake confused, rolling over a few times before realising I am actually alone in the double bed.

I lie there dazed for a while, my scars aching. A few minutes later the Joker appears from the bathroom, this time fully clothed and made up.

"Hey Mister J," I smile at him, a warm feeling flooding through me.

"Get up," He says, softly as he runs a hand through his hair, "Precious, we're going out, testing the new you, quick now."

"Mister J?" I say, sitting up in the bed and pulling the covers up over my naked body.

"Quickly Precious." He says, sitting at his desk, a few droplets running from his damp hair onto the page.

I spot my shirt clinging to the edge of the bed, and raise a shaky hand, my eyebrows knitted in confusion, "Can you...?"

The Jokers eyes snap to my shirt, then a hand, quick and nimble, throw it at me. I catch it meekly and shove it on quickly, casting a desperate look around for my underwear. I don’t find them, and simply pull the t-shirt down over my bum as I move into the bathroom.

I switch on the shower and climb in in a daze, so confused. My hands wash my hair and body as I stand there, wondering why the Joker was being so strange.

Did last night not happen?

I exhale hard and rub my eyes before turning off the shower and towelling dry. I look around and my heart seems to sink when I realise I'd left my clothes in the bedroom. I make sure my towel is wrapped firmly round my torso and my face is set so I don’t look too sad or confused, and peek from around the door.

The Joker is sat at his desk, and I move as quietly and quickly as possible as if he won't notice me. He looks up before I'm even fully out the door, and follows me with shining eyes. He turns in his seat as I pass behind it, not looking at him, and pull open a drawer I know is full of underwear. I have my hand in, searching for a pair, when two arms, soft and strong wrap round my stomach.

I immediately fall back into their embrace and heave a contented sigh, "Precious..." He murmurs, so soft it's like a blanket smothering all my worries.

"Mister J..."

His lips shudder against my damp hair, and I feel air rush in and out of them, hot then cold, and we sit there for the longest time, breathing in sync again. Suddenly, his lips pucker against the top of my head, and he kisses it hard, taking a shuddering breath in afterwards.

I get up, sensing it's the right time, and start searching for my clothes. I grab a pair of half black, half red shorts and a half red, half black oversized shirt. I also find a pair of knee-high boots, one red, and one black, and a thick belt split into red and black.

I cast a lingering look at the clown hunched at the desk, and my hand runs across his shoulder blades so quickly and softly he barely realised until I'm gone and through the bathroom door.

I breathe another sigh, half of content, the other of confusion, as I shrug on my clothes and survey the outfit as best I can without a proper mirror. I smile at my reflection and emerge from the bathroom with my new outfit and the renewed confidence that came with the clowns lingering kiss and my black and red attire.

When I reach the Joker again, however, his face is set in stone, and he stays silent as he gently, though firmly, pushes me down into his chair and goes to fetch his make up.

I sit there, frowning in confusion when he comes back, and kneels in front of me. He places the makeup on the desk, and nudges my legs apart so he's knelt between them. My hands rest careful on his shoulders, and when he smiles a little I hold him tighter. He leans up and carefully applies a neat circle of black round my eyes, and I shut them at the appropriate times, before opening them again and my sight is greeting with that smiling clown, and I smile back.

Next, he finds the red paint, and leans up a little more, resting more on my knees, licking his lips in anticipation as he carefully draws a red line across my lips and just up my scars.

They itch and ache horribly and I let out a little gasp in pain. The red tube clatters to the floor as soon as the sound leaves my lips, and his thumb is running across them, soothing the pain, and smearing the red. I linger against his hand, and he rubs his fingertips together before resting his hand against my cheek. I lean into it, and we both breathe in.

Suddenly, he's up and on his feet, walking towards the door, "Bring your knife Precious!" He calls from the white room. I shake myself from a daze in the chair, and rise quickly, grabbing my knife from under my pillow and sliding it into my sleeve. I see the Joker happily surveying his weapons, rocking on the balls of his feet. He carefully chooses a gun, quite a large one, and places it into a holster just inside his jacket. He stops for a second before choosing a smaller, black gun, and weighs it in his hand, before handing to me.

"Yours, Precious."

I dither with the weapon heavy in my hand, and, not knowing where to put it, I keep it white knuckled in my fist, casting an often wary eye its way. We exit the white room and the goons are already assembled. Adam already has his mask firmly over his face, but I know it's his, and somehow I know he's scowling underneath it.

The rest of the goons murmur and whisper when they see my scars, and I hang my head, trying to hide them. The Joker walks past me and his mouth passes close to my ear.

"Never ever hide what I do to you Precious," He breathes out and my skin shivers beneath him, "Be proud."

"Mister J," My mouth barely moves as I lift my head from the floor and look each of the goons in the eye. They immediately seem to develop an overwhelming fear of me, and a few take a small step back. My scars just emphasise my strange, almost sick smile at their fear, and the Joker barks to get going. We both wait until everyone else is gone, and then he snakes an arm round my waist and squeezed a little before leaning close to my ear, "You look beautiful."

"Mister J," I say again, smiling a little more as he let me go. I follow him up the stairs and stare at the back of his head, smiling to myself, "No handcuffs today Mister J?"

"No, no," He says, turning at the top of the stairs and looking over his right shoulder, "Not today."

I smile and lower my head a little as I follow him out the door and watch as he shuts it. The gun still weighs heavy in my hand as I climb into the van a moment before the Joker does, and I'm completely aware of the way my hand has stuck fast to the gun and held it white knuckles.

I knew whatever the Joker would present me with today, I'd let my dark self take it with both hands, round it's throat, and choke the life from it. My promise to myself sticks in my throat as we take the winding roads into Gotham at breakneck speed.

As we round corners my body keeps colliding with the Jokers, and yet even through the darkness in the back of the van, I could see he was smiling at me every time our skin touched.

As we round a particularly violent corner my leg collides with the dark purple pants next to them, and instead of me pulling away as quickly as we touched, a hand, weathered and tipped in white make up floats onto my leg. I immediately look up into its owners eyes, and we hold each others gaze, until the van comes to a roaring stop, and I'm thrown against the other wall.

We pile out in a big rush, and the Joker takes the lead through another set of large glass doors. A security guard rises from his desk, and I can almost see the bead of sweat already formed and dripping down his forehead.

"Hey!" He says, trying to act tough, "You're that Jo-"

Before he can finish his sentence the Joker raises his gun and point blank shoots the man in blue uniform, and the blood splats against his desk and stains the carpet. I gasp, and the Joker immediately looks at me, his blackened eyes hiding that soul boring right into mine. I stare at the corpse, forcing myself to get used to the sight, since I know it'd be a far more often one. Leather gloves snake round my wrist and the Joker slowly pulls me away from the corpse and towards the elevator where the goons are already waiting.

He drops my hand though, not wanting to seem vulnerable to the goons, I imagine, and presses the button for the top floor. He starts humming and rocking on the balls of his feet, his haunting tune somehow making the air in the lift even tenser.

As the lift nears the 25th floor, I heave a lungful of air in, then out, jingle my right sleeve and feel the blade of my knife nick my skin just a little. I adjust the grip on my gun so my fingers stop aching, and my left foot starts tapping. My lips are moist and sore from my tongue constantly darting across them, and my scars seem to tingle in fear and anticipation.

The doors slide open just as the Joker finishes his tune, and he takes a smooth step out into what looks like an office. Desks were sat in uniform rows, and the suits sat before them leap to their feet. The eight or nine goons immediately hold the ten or so office workers at gunpoint.

The Joker grimaces a little, and adjusts his tie, gun in one hand, "Hiii."

"Now, now, now, noww," He purrs, stalking among the desks and cabinets and making eye contact with each petrified soul glued to their spot, "I'm looking for a certain... document. I know it's here, here somewhere," He walks up to a particularly scared looking young woman, hair in a tight bun, eyes wide in fear. I smile a little at how much he's scaring them all, "You know where it is? Hm?" He jerks his switchblade to her cheek and she whimpers. Suddenly, I feel jealous of all the attention this girl is getting from him, from my Mister J. I suddenly want to slit that pretty throat and spill her blood on the carpet tiles. I clench my hand tight round my gun and my other hand shakes a little.

"Plans, blueprints, round here somewhere, no... no?" The petrified girl shakes her head a millimetre to either side. The Joker throws his head back in maniacal laughter, and everyone in the room but me visibly shivers. I stand there and stare at him, watching his lips convulse and wishing he was all mine again.

"You know what?" He says, laughter still dripping in his voice as he releases the girl and resumes walking around the room in his lopsided strides, "I already know where they are! I just love scaring all you little people!"

There's a ripple of fear through the room, and some indignant murmurs, but the Joker spins a full circle, shushing everyone in the room. They all fall quiet and I smile a little wider, looking right at him. For a second he looks back and smiles. We both lick our lips simultaneously and the Joker lets out a little giggle.

"However," He says, running a hand through his hair, "I know this office is accounting, as such, and I know you have money." He giggles a little more, "Money, money, money..." He points his gun at the nearest man, and licks his lips in anticipation. I find myself doing the same, "Hand it over... All of you," He casts his eyes across the room, "Every bill you have," He holds out his hand for the bills, goons watch as people open drawers and safes, and he smiles as the paper wrinkles between his fingers, "Come on, come on, hurry up." When he's satisfied everyone has parted with their hard earned cash he smiles, pretty and sick at the same time, and slides the wad of money into his pocket.

Suddenly, I hear a noise, a man breaking into a run for the fire stairs a few metres away from him. All the other goons have their guns trained on people, and everyone knew full well that if they moved one of the office workers would also make a break for freedom.

"Shoot!" Someone screams at me, and another, real scream falls from someone's terrified lips. My arm and hand leap of their own accord, raising and pulling the trigger before I could either think. The kickback pushes my shoulder backwards, but sends a satisfying ache through my muscles. Red blossoms from the back of the mans shirt as his dead weight carries him onto the carpet tiles.

Silence.

The gun, my gun, emits a little puff of smoke, as the only thing I can hear is blood roaring round my system and a woman sobbing. A cackle slowly rises in my throat and spills, thick and sharp from my mouth into the still air. My shoulders rise and fall with my laughter as I lower my gun, my laughter rising from a small giggle to full-blown hysterical laughter that pulsed through my veins.

I felt more alive, for the first time since prom night, as laughter spilled from the darkest corners of my body. I soon realised I wasn't the only one laughing, another red Chelsea smile was howling along, only our laughs were so similar I couldn't tell.

Murmurs ripple through our hostage and their fear thickens the air even more. Instead of choking me, the air fills my lungs and blood with an exhilarating new feeling, and as I stop laughing my clowns voice swims into my head.

"Welcome to a world with no rules Precious!"

I laugh along with him as he throws his arms wide and his head back in laughter, until the window is darkened with a familiar shadow, and one of the hostages screamed in relief, "Batman!"

The Joker spins on his heels and opens his arms again to welcome the shadow as he shatters the large window looking out into the city and steps through, "Batsy!"

In an instant I'm at the Joker's side, knife in my right hand, gun in my left. Instead of uttering a witty remark the Batman stays silent and steps forward.

Havoc ensues behind us, the hostages making breaks for stairs and lifts, and guns are fired as the goons stop them. The Joker dodges Batmans sloppily thrown punch and instead gets him right in the gut. Batman stumbles back, seemingly far too affected by a simple punch. The Joker dances over to a desk, and rips a metal pole from the side of it, slapping it a few times against his palm. As Batman stumbles back up the Joker laughs in glee and the metal pole swings and connects with the back of his head.

I laugh myself, and run forward, kicking the Bat while he's down. My foot hurts against his armour but I laugh anyway, ignoring it as I lean down and pull Gothams so called saviour to his feet. The Joker laughs along with me and we beat the guy over and over, laughing as we do. I spot a break in his armour and my knife slides easily through the gap.

The bat seems to act on instinct, and as I slide my knife through his flesh and yank it back out, his fist connects with the side of my head and my vision blurs. The Joker lets out a little yelp, and goes a little crazy, beating the Batman right to the floor and cackling while he does it. His hair dances past his face in a whirl of dirty green and his lips curve and convulse, his arms almost robotic in his erratic movements.

I stumble back to my feet and stand just in time to see the Jokers metal pole strike the Batman right across the back of his head, so his face is forced into the carpet tiles. When he lifts it back up blood spatters from between his lips as his body retches. I move forward, my hand brushing down the Jokers arm and to his hand for a second, before we both grasp an ear of the mask and pull it off.

The Joker leans down and gets in the mans face. He studies him for a second before throwing his head back in laughter, "You're not real!" He lifts the mans face up to his, "You aren’t the real Batman are you?"

The man, shaking and blood soaked, shakes his head softly and the Joker pulls him up by his neck, so his toes are just touching the ground.

"We got ourselves a copycat boys!" he exclaims, before casting a look round the room and seeing most of the hostages either injured or tied up, and one or two were dead, "Lets go!"

In the blink of an eye we're out of the door, and back into the van, the now unconscious copycat thrown into a corner. We stop the haphazard journey and the door slides open, only one clown slips out though, removing his blood covered suit and leaving it in the van, revealing plain clothes underneath. The Joker passes him a portion of the money we'd lifted from the office, and I frown a little.

"Remember what I said," The Joker tells the goon, and he nods one sharp nod and disappears. The door rolls shut and we start the journey again. It slowly occurs to me that I've been quietly laughing my maniacal laugh since we'd stopped the fighting, and as I take a look around I realise that’s why the goons are staring at me.

The Joker just smiles from next to me and gently rests his gloved hand on my leg, and even though there are gloves and thick black tights between us I shiver. Instead of being thrown against the wall when we crash to a stop, the Joker grabs my arm and pulls me back against him. In the brief second we're pressed against each other I breathe in his smell, as quick as possible, through my mouth and nose so I can taste and smell him.

We climb out and the Joker waves a goon to carry the copycat out of the van. I walk light on my toes and spin a few times in the hall, pirouetting as my laughter grows, before swinging open the white door and dancing through it, still laughing to myself. I spin a few times then fall back, dizzy, onto the bed and giggle, my hair fanning round me as I stare at the fabric above me, "Wow! That was amazing!"

I look up at the Joker is stood in front of me, smiling wide and open, real for once. I felt alive, thanks to a bullet lodged in a brain of an innocent person.

I'd let my whole soul be overtaken by maniacal laughter and painted Chelsea smiles, and wow, I loved it.