The Joker and the Thief

The house was just as empty as it sounded. “Where is everyone?” I asked still being pulled through the deserted hallways towards the garage. “They're out doing what I told them to do.” The car was still in its place but the white van was gone. I opened the passenger door without talking. The Joker put the car in gear and backed out of the short drive way. We were in the car for about five minutes when the Joker announced, “You should put your seat belt on.” He then slammed his foot on the brake pedal and my face would have collided with the dash board if I hadn't thrown my arm out to stop my moving body. I gave a look of disbelief to the Joker, who had resumed his normal fit of laughter “Sorry. I didn't see the stop sign.” I immediately put my seat belt on.

The thing about Gotham City was you could be the only car on the road and it would still take you forty five minutes to drive from one end of the city to another. Gotham was the largest city in the world; home to 30 million people. That's ten percent of America's total population living in one city. So I wasn't surprised that we drove for thirty minutes before we turned into an older looking parking garage. As we went up level by level I counted maybe fifteen cars and all of them appeared to have been there awhile. When we turned onto the fifth level, I recognized the van parked lazily in a space near the exterior wall. The Joker parked his car next the van and ordered me, in an almost growling voice, to get out of the car with him.

As I climbed out of the car the back doors of the van opened up and four people jumped out; well, two jumped, the other two were dragged out. I recognized the two who weren't bound and gagged as some of the Joker's goons. The captives were both men dressed in some form of security guard wear complete with identification cards clipped to their front shirt pockets. Both had strips of black cloth tied around their heads as blindfolds. The man on the left, blonde and wearing a pale blue mall cop shirt, continued to struggle for freedom while the man on the right with dark hair and a similar shirt only a darker shade seemed unsure of what he should do.

The Joker skipped comically beside me as I walked to a spot in front of the van that was safe from the blonde man's random thrashing. Even before the familiar gun again appeared in the Joker's hand I knew the fate of the two men. I just wasn't what the purpose was. “Let's get this party started.” The Joker giggled as he handed the gun in my direction. I just stared at it with what I was sure was a look of utter confusion. Why was he passing me that thing? I don't know how to use a gun. The words pressed across my skull so I wasn't surprised if they showed on my face.

“You just pull the trigger, Marie. It doesn't take a genius.” He spoke as if to a child. And for once the thought entered my mind. I am a child. I didn't know what I was doing. Not just in that moment but of the course of my life. I lied, I cheated, I stole, I constantly broke the law. And what for? To spite my mother because I was upset with the way she did things. But there was a major miscalculation in my plan. My mother didn't give a damn about what I did. She didn't care that I stole Bruce Wayne's car at the age of 15. She didn't care about all the near death experiences I had the pass few days. She was out there living her life the way she wanted, with no influence from me. And here I was, wasting my life away.

My epiphany was cut short when a closed fist, probably the Joker's, collided with my jaw. The blow knocked me to the ground and I was sure it was the pain that caused tears to fill my eyes, not my epiphany. I managed to keep them from falling as I picked myself up. The goons looked on as if this happened on a regular basis; it was starting to become one. I kept my eyes down as I grabbed the gun from the Joker's hand. The comedy in his face was replaced with hatred. The silver gun was heavier than I expected. I looked down at it, tossed it between my hands, feeling each groove and edge of the barrel. I wondered silently to myself if the safety was on or if the thing was even loaded.

The Joker wasn't very patient that day. Instead of taking the time to close his fist he just slapped me across the face, once again breaking my concentration. This time I got a little pissed off. “What the hell do you want me to do?” I snapped. When I looked at the Joker I swore I saw a smile playing on the edge of his scarred mouth. I wasn't sure if that invisible smile should of made me feel better or worse. “I want you to kill those to two men sitting in front of you.” His voice was steady; it held none of the violence his actions displayed.

“And why would I do that?” I asked matter of fact. And as I said it, the invisible smile showed itself; it practically stretched from ear to ear. But the smile wasn't a happy or proud smile. It was a smile covered in cynicism and insanity. It was only made worse by the Joker's unique make-up. Almost in a form of compassion, he threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into an awkward hug. The familiar sensation of shivers running down my spine was an immediate result of our close physical contact.

He put his head beside mine and whispered softly in my ear. “Because if you don't I'll kill you and then kill them anyways. And I'll go about my day like nothings changed.” Another shiver ran down my back. I pulled my head away from his to look the Joker in the eyes and I asked, “Why me?” Personally, I was expecting some long explanation as to why the Joker felt the need to put me through hell. The answer I got wasn't the one I wanted. “Why not you?” I was hoping, a small part of me was at least, that I was apart of an elaborate plan the Joker created that would only work if I pulled the trigger. Not that I just had bad luck. Bad luck is so much less interesting.

I was still dwelling about how unimportant I was as I started thinking out loud, “I've never killed anyone before.” The Joker released me from the hug and looked me in the eye as he spoke. “It's not that hard. Just aim the gun, pull the trigger and repeat. Then walk away. Everybody dies. Whether it be now or in fifty years, what does it matter? You can't live your life by other people's rules. You have to free yourself.” It was hard not to see the reason in the Joker's words. It was so insane that it made sense.

Just as I started to believe the Joker and his words my mind snapped back to reality and a survival instinct kicked in. It I wanted to keep my life and my sanity I need to play along. I needed to beat the Joker at his own game. I wasn't sure if that was possible but I was going to try. I needed to act like I falling into his smartly placed traps while hopping silently around them and hope I didn't lose my mind along the way. “How?” I asked in the same emotionless tone.

“Madness, my dear. A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free. It's the emergency exit. You can just step outside, and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened. You can lock them away, forever.” The Joker said with a large amount of pride in his voice. I let my heart beat a few more times before I quietly aimed the gun and quickly pulled the trigger. A loud bang erupted through the silence and the blonde man slummed over on his side. The same happened to the other man a few seconds later following another bang.

As the men started to loaded the bloody bodies back into the van, the Joker removed the gun from my hand which hung limb by my side. He once again placed a comforting arm around my shoulders. “It's as though we were made for each other... Beauty and the Beast. Of course, if anyone else calls you Beast, I'll rip their lungs out.” The lonely parking garage was now full of the Joker's hysteric laughter.