My Version of Hell Was Much Funnier

The Joker and Harley walked side by side before me, stepping into the morning's light. Well, Jack walked, Harley sort of skipped slashed bounced. It was around 9 am, and behind me stood Biggy, Casey, and closest at my side was Squid. Shooting each other a look we shared a silent laugh as Harley tripped over a rock, almost eating gravel until she caught herself with a screech. Turning she put her hands on her hips and searched for the culprit, settling with a large piece of stone that she kicked away while huffing. The Joker looked to her briefly, flexing his hands to fists before turning away, stalking toward the black van that belonged to him.

His green hair blew back in the breeze. He must've taken a shower recently. His purple coat was absent, the sleeves of his teal button up shirt rolled to his elbows. The tanned skin of his arms were absorbing the sun longingly, his fingers absentmindedly curling as he would take steps across the rocks. Walking past the front of the van he waited until Harley was seated on the passenger side, started the car and drove away, expecting us to do the same.

Mimicking his actions I climbed into the driver's seat, shoved the keys into the ignition and turned over the engine. A dull roar met my ears, a grinding noise and then a sudden pop of a back fire. Squid looked over to me with a questioning expression, and I to him with the same look. The engine was turned over again, the same noise being heard with an added whine at an ungodly pitch, and another backfire so strong the car rocked.

"Piece of shit," I mumbled under my breath.

Stomping the gas pedal a few times I floored it, turning the ignition once more for good number and heard the car's gears grinding as it worked to start, and a faint popping noise increasing in speed and gaining in volume, when something cracked and a piece of metal flew from the engine, breaking through the hood and flying left, bouncing and skipping over the gravel.

I smacked my hand over the steering wheel in anger, and brought it back to lean my head in my palm. I sighed. "Casey, call the boss and tell him to round back and pick us up."

"The boss won't like that," he said from the back.

I bit my thumb nail impatiently, chipping off some nail polish. "Biggy, call th boss and tell him to round back and pick us up."

"You got it momma." Digging into his front pocket he pulled out a cell phone and flipped it open, held down the number '1' and put it to his ear. "Yeah, boss, the car broke down." Muffled talking was heard on the other end. "Nah, it's trashed. Somethin' flew out from under the hood and bounced through the lot, the things gone. You'll have to carry us all." He held the phone away from his ear as The Joker began to yell.

"Me come pick you up?" His oiled voice growled. "Taking my time - not planned," he screamed.

"Puddin' watch out!" Harley was heard screaming. I scoffed to myself.

Biggy held the phone to his ear again. "Yeah. Yeah. At the docks still. We'll be ready." He snapped the phone shut. "He'll be here in less than five minutes, we need to be ready as soon as he gets here."

The boys nodded jumping from my burnt out vehicle to the rocky ground, their feet crunchy as they stepped around the van to the driver side where they waited patiently for another automobile to appear on the near horizon. Within a few minutes dust billowed behind a black van traveling at speeds well above the local limit, screeching to a halt beside us. The door was slid open, slamming into its stopper and the three men I both knew and respected climbed in eagerly, the door left open in anticipation for me to follow. I placed my elbow on the rim of my rolled down window, my head still resting in my palm, and rolled my eyes to look at the black van beside me. It lurched forward and promptly halted to a stop, its tires skidding across the gravel, and was thrown into reverse until The Joker and I were staring intently at one another.

With narrowed eyes he sized me up diligently, his brows furrowed in anger and his natural lips pulled down on one side. Slowly his tongue slid out, tracing over his front teeth and across his lower lip until it slithered back into his mouth, and with his thumb he wiped his nose quickly, looking away from me and slapping the side of his door with an open palm. "Whatcha waitin for, toots?" He asked in a casual manner. "The second coming of Christ?" Tilting his head down his hair fell in matted clumps over his face, and he looked up to me through his long lashes. "You may be waiting for a while."

I chuckled once with humor, and stared back at him. "I'm not coming today."

"Well then," he slapped the steering wheel with both hands, gripping it firmly as he smiled out the front windshield. "Now that that's settled." His left eye twitched suddenly, and he turned back to me, a feral look gleaming in his brown eyes. "Get. In. The car."

"No."

"Tell me," he growled, leaning his elbow out the window. His right knuckles turned white with the amount of force he was holding the steering wheel with. "Just where else would you be going?"

"To get a new car."

_-_

The walk to the car dealership in town, the nice one anyway, took me a little over two hours to get to, making the time somewhere around 10 or eleven thirty. Traffic around town was light, as for it was a work day, so the scare I had of being recognized was placed at a minimal amount. I had doubted anybody would really be able to place me anywhere, as for the only thing they had on me was finger prints, a blurry picture and a fake name. Let the community think they were close to finding me, though, it seemed to make them all feel better.

The dealership I had gone to wasn't one of those small time pre-owned cars. Looking around the lot no car was seen costing less than seventy five thousand dollars. Their color was fresh, shining even in absent sunlight and gleaming over the sleek curves of their bodies. Looking at them made any body's mouth water, and I was no exception.

Having no more than stepping on the newly poured cement, a man in a three piece suit jogged up to me, running a hand through his already perfect hair and flashed me a million dollar smile. I looked down, faking a blush and looked back to him with a shy smile. I was standing here in a pair of dark blue skinny jeans with manufactured holes in the thighs and knees, a pair of purple vans and a matching tank top, billowing down to my high thigh to resemble a small summer dress. The last thing I looked like I was dressed for was stealing a car, which was perfectly fine with me.

"Hello, Miss," he greeted me with a fake, low voice. "What are you looking for here today?"

"Well," my voice had suddenly escalated a few notes. "The other day I was in a car accident -"

"A car accident," he interrupted with false concern. "I hope you're alright."

I squeezed my arms together to create cleavage as I giggled lightly. "Yes, I'm fine. My car isn't though. Daddy sent me here with his credit card, letting me get any one I want." His eyes seemed to flash with greed.

"What model are you looking for?"

"Mmm," i grabbed a piece of hair and twirled it in my fingertips, biting my lower lip as I thought. A fast car was definitely needed, but most sports cars are only two door, which would make it harder to get away. Plus, with the shorter build they would also be lighter, and may have a better chance of flipping if a turn is taken too sharply, which would be no good. Four doors seemed to have everything going for them, fast entrances and exits, a bulkier build in case of accidents or the occasional driving through asylum walls.

"Miss?"

"Oh, well," I snapped my attention back to him. "Daddy often books lunches for my friends and I, so I need one with room. But I want it to be pretty, too."

"I know just what you need," he said with a wink. I rolled my eyes once he turned away, following him none the less. He led me over to a secluded corner of the lot, a perfect place for me to knock him out and get on my merry way, except for the fact there was another person looking at the ridiculously priced imports. I hissed under my breath, and listened as the sales rep made his schpeal. Within fifteen minutes I was inside the building, talking over insurance policies I really didn't have time to listen to.

"Excuse me," I said at last, stopping him in the middle of his sentence about cup holders or something. "Can you tell me where the bathroom is, please?"

He sighed shortly, catching himself as stood with a newly placed smile. Opening the door he directed me down the hall. I thanked him, and walked in the opposite direction once the door was closed. The door ahead of me on my right opened and another sales rep walked out. I caught the door before it closed completely, and walked into the room.

"Jesus," I sighed once in there, and slid down the wall to take a breather. Those car dealers don't know when to stop really. Running a hand through my hair I worked out a few knots before I actually took in mind I was in a different room and looked up.

Standing opposite the room of me was none other than Bruce Wayne. Abruptly I stood, brushing invisible dust from my pant legs. He stood wearing a simple pair of light blue jeans and a light brown thermal. His hair was still slicked back like it was when he was in business wear, and his posture was stiff but other than that he looked normal. I cracked a nervous smile.

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone else was in here. Those dealer's, you know, they can, uh, they can talk your ear off." I babbled on endlessly, praying to whatever God didn't shun me that his eyes would betray him into not noticing me.

"Yeah," he laughed airily, a deep and masculine sound. "I know what you mean. I came here just for a car, and was sold off on more insurance policies than I can count on both hands." He chuckled once more, bowing his head as his hands were buried in his pockets. After a moment he looked to me again, turning his body my way. "Do I know you?"

I dreaded that question. "I - I don't think so," I lied. "D - Daddy's the head of a big corporation." Crap, I just looked down to the left, that's a sign that I'm lying.

"Yeah? What business? I may know him. I have a thing or so to do with running businesses." Bruce chuckled.

"Daddy doesn't talk about it much."

His eyes narrowed slightly, not threateningly but more in curiosity, and he took a step forward.

Panic flooded my mind for a moment, until I remembered that he's Bruce Wayne, and the most damage he could do would be to call the police. But still, all he had to do was scream rape and everyone here would run to his aide.

Stopping a mere foot in front of me he looked at me closer, and I turned my head away. He sharply inhaled, and my teeth ground together as I cursed myself for being so moronic. His grip on my chin was harsher than expected for a business man, and he pulled me closer, twisting my head to the side to view the three white lines tracing from my left eye to my hair line.

"I know you," he spat. "You're the murderer working with The Joker." He pushed me away roughly, my back colliding with the wall.

I sighed. "Worked with The Joker." I shrugged myself from the wall. "Get your facts straight, buddy."

"I could call the police right now."

"And I could run."

"I can stop you."

"Not if you can't catch me."

His eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

I looked behind him to the wall, seeing the time marked on the clock. "In 3 seconds it will be a promise."

He tilted his head in question. "What are you -"

Behind him in the distance seen through the tinted windows erupted a fire, the explosion rippling the glass as the building unknown to me exploded with Casey's bomb. Bruce swiveled on his heels quickly, leaving me unsurveyed. My hand clutched the handle as I ripped the door open and took off down the hall, easily dodging the people captivated by the flames. Shouldn't they be used to this by now?

Outside the world had stopped, viewing the destruction laying less than a mile away from them, making my escape down the sidewalk seem to be one of pure genius.