The Joker and the Thief

I started off just trying to get as far away from the hotel as possible. By now they would have already discovered my absence. I tried to stay off the main streets, sticking to alleys and side roads. After about twenty minutes of running, I finally stopped, ready to take the next step in my escape.

I needed to get out of town, probably out of the state. I figured the bus would be my best bet. I wasn't sure how much a ticket cost, but I needed money. That would mean a trip to my mother's house, which was something I really didn't want to do. Reluctantly, I took off in that direction.

I didn't run. I still hadn't had a decent meal and my body was tried from the lack of sleep. It was well past dawn when I reached the house. I watched from my place in the alley as my mother went off on her morning shopping run. When she was safely around the corner, I left my place of hiding.

I didn't get very far. When I was halfway across the street, a large SUV came barreling around the corner. At first, I thought it was just one of Gotham's crazy drivers but that was before it stopped in my path. The passenger side door flew open, almost hitting me in the face. Two hands emerged from the darkness and pulled my roughly inside. I didn't start fighting until it was too late.

Between my kicking limbs, I recognized the two men from the hotel. Another man was in the driver's seat. I struggled for a few more seconds before I felt an odd prod in my side. Even though, I had never been in this situation, I knew the object the man was now holding against my rib cage was a gun. I immediately stopped moving. I didn't say a word, and neither did the three men, as I sat next to the gun-wielding man with my eyes downcast.

I wasn't sure how much time elapsed before the vehicle stopped and I was roughly pulled outside. We were parked outside a large, rust-color warehouse overlooking the bay. My fear immediately grew. The docks were never a good place to be with armed men. With a small amount of pushing on their part and some swearing on mine, together we entered the warehouse through a small, uneven doorway.

I was not prepared for what I found inside. Stacked into an orderly pattern, a giant mountain of cash rose from the floor and consumed the majority of the space between it and the ceiling. The pyramid of cash was the first thing that caught my attention; the second was the man sitting atop the pyramid. I had never seen Lau before in my life; I knew the man sitting up there, with fear written on his face, was once an accountant for the mob.

As my eyes moved down, I recognized more people. The first was my least favorite person. I wasn't sure how he managed to escape MCU, but the Joker stood a few feet in front of us, admiring the pill of money. He didn't notice my entrance until my captors presented me to their boss.

As usual, Chechen was smoking. I knew I was in trouble when he took the energy to remove the large imported cigar from his mouth. I should have been prepared for the words that came flowing from Chechen's mouth. Gordon had warned me about the mob's current state of mind, but that conversation seemed to have occurred years ago.

“You dirty, good-for-nothing, bitch!" All this was said through a heavy accent while Chechen advanced towards me.

Having a strong will to live and the desire not to be maimed, I tried to move away from Chechen and his fury just as fast as he was moving towards me. Unfortunately, he had the advantage of being able to see where he was going. I managed to trip over some unknown object and tumble to the ground.

It wasn't Chechen who pulled me roughly up by my arms. It was two of my kidnappers. I thinking and vision was still a bit destorated when Chechen's fist collided with my face. Blood started to fill my mouth. Suddenly, my fear turned into anger. I was tired of being attacked and abused. I started to struggle with my captors again; trying to free an arm so I seek my revenge on Chechen’s face. But as usual, I wasn’t strong enough.

“You made a big mistake, Bradley.” Chechen said, returning the cigar to his mouth. “I wasn’t just paying you to steal; I was paying you to keep your mouth shut. What made you think you could do this without facing the consequences. I own you, Bradley.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was for sell.” I said sharply before spitting in the mixture of blood and salvia into Chechen’s face. My uncharacteristic actions awarded me another punch in the face.

I closed my eyes, waiting on another hit. But nothing came. Cautiously, I opened my eyes. Chechen’s eyes were no longer on me but on the Joker. The Joker’s face showed clear hatred, which helped explain why the gun in his hand was pointed at Chechen. “Let her go.” His voice was low but hostile.A few seconds later, my arms were released. Slowly, I stumbled behind the Joker. I wasn’t sure if it was safer but at least I wasn’t on the other end of the gun.

A smile then returned to the Joker’s face. “I’m a man of simple tastes. I like gunpowder, dynamite, gasoline.” A couple of the Joker’s goons started to pour what smelled like gas onto the mountain of money, with Lau still sitting on top. Chechen step forward but any more movement was stopped by the Joker’s still aimed gun. “And you know what they have in common? They’re cheap.” The Joker then removed Chechen’s cigar from his mouth and lightly tossed it on the pile of cash, which erupted in flames.

With his eyes on the burning fortune, Chechen said, “You said you were a man of your word.”

“I am. I’m only burning my half.” The Joker quietly handed me the gun, which I held haphazardly. “All you care about it money. This city deserves a better class of criminal, and I’m going to give it to them. This is my town now. Tell your men they work for me.”

Chechen seemed to build up some nerve. “They won’t work for a freak.”

Then a knife appeared in the Joker’s hand. “How about we cut you up and feed you to your pooches. Then we’ll see how loyal a hungry dog really is.” I turned away as Chechen was dragged away to his fate.

With the knife gone, the Joker started to search his pockets. “It’s not about the money. It’s about sending a message.” After a few seconds of searching he pulled out a cell phone. “Everything burns.”