Sequel: A Serious House on Serious Earth ›
Status: Sequel? Yes? No?
The Joker and the Thief
Party
I examined the clothes once I closed the bedroom door safely behind me. The room was small and practically empty. The only piece of furniture was a small bland bed. The clothes were a bit more interesting. It didn't take me long to notice that they were from my own closet. Even though I'd hadn't wore the dark pair of jeans in over two years they were slightly looser than they were indented to be. I guessed that was due to my lack of eating. The next piece of clothing was a dark violet tank top that I remembered wearing to class pictures my freshmen year. A few small rhinestones were sworn into the fabric in random places. It was originally my mother's but she didn't like it so I took it. I put on the thin black jacket and black shoes without really looking at them. When I was done I took a look at my reflection in the sliding mirrors which doubled as doors to the closet. The left panel had a thin crack in it which ran the length of the mirror. To put it nicely I looked like a homicide victim prepared to be cremated.
My hair was disheveled which wasn't anything new to me. My days old mascara and eyeliner were smeared giving me the sad raccoon eyes. I did my best wipe off the stray lines but I still looked like a prostitute. My neck was the worst part. The bottom half of my neck was completely covered in bruises; a temporary imprint of the Joker's hand. The bruises on the side, by my shoulders, had a red coloration to them while the ones closer to the front had the traditional blue and purple mixture. Up by my chin was an inch long cut, which was surrounded my dried blood. I used the sleeve on my jacket to wipe the blood off which made the cut look less serious. And from the arching in my arms I knew if I was to inspect my limbs they would also be covered in bruises and cuts. I used my fingers to brush my hair out as much as possible before exiting the room.
I walked into the living room to find everyone standing in the middle of the room. The appeared to be waiting from me. There were six guys, counting Kevin, and most were wearing a mask of some kind. The Joker was leaning casually against the wall twirling a knife in his hands. He looked up when I closed the door to the bedroom. “Let's go.” The Joker announced with the familiar amusement in his voice. This time the Joker practically ignored me as I followed the men outside and into the van that was parked in the yard. I was happy about the lack of attention. I sat next some man in a clown mask since Kevin took his mask off and got in the driver seat. The Joker rode shotgun. As we drove through the now dark Gotham I noticed that everyone had a gun, or two, besides me. “Where are we going?” I whispered to the man next to me. I couldn't see his face or his reaction to my question but I did hear his answer. “To kill people.” That didn't really answer my question.
I sat in silence as we drove. I tried my best to keep my mind blank and away from the thousands of ways this situation could go bad. The van came to a sudden stop outside a large apartment building. It must have been an odd sight; six guys wearing mismatched masks, the Joker in all his glory and a battered teenager girl running into what I noticed to be the home of Bruce Wayne's penthouse. The decorative lobby was empty except for an old security guard sitting at the his post and a older man I recognized to be Detective Wortts walking towards the elevator. I didn't have the best view from the back of the group so I didn't see who hit the guard across the head but I did see the Joker put his shotgun to the back of the cop's head as the elevator door dinged open.
Everyone followed the Joker and his hostage into the elevator. I, however, didn't enter the elevator; I stayed on the safe side. “It looks a bit crowded in there. I'll just take the next.” I said quickly while taking a small step back from the elevator full of murdering lunatics. But when the Joker redirected his gun I changed my direction. “Okay, okay.” I timidly stepped next to the Joker and his hostage while trying to keep out of the arm's reach. The classical elevator music and the clown masks made this one much weirder than my previous elevator ride at City Hall. If I didn't die before I fulfilled my contract with the police I was sure I would have permanent heart damage from stress. Everything was happening too fast; I didn't have time to process the situation. All knew was that I need to get away from the murdering clowns and catch the first bus leaving town.
As we neared the top floor everyone started to load their weapons and I began to press myself to the side of the elevator intending not to get off. I hoped I would be forgotten when the door dinged open again and the action started. I hoped I would be left unnoticed in the elevator and free to take it back down. But I was never to be that lucky. When the elevator doors opened and the Joker and the rest of his men ran off the elevator I thought I was home free but I didn't expect a goon in a clown mask to pull me off the elevator with so much force I almost fell. The loud blast from the Joker's shotgun into the high ceiling silenced the party-goers except for a few cries from a few women in dresses that probably cost more than my mom's house.
“Hello ladies and gentlemen. We are tonight's entertainment.” A waiter somewhere in the crowd drop their tray and the sound of it crashing to the floor echoed throughout the otherwise silent room. I took my place behind a table of food. When I saw the food I realized how hungry I was for I hadn't ate in almost two days. I couldn't resist grabbing a handful of grapes off the silver tray. During my lunch break the Joker was still talking. “I only have one question. Where is Harvey Dent?” I walked though the crowd while throwing a purple grape in my mouth, trying to stay out of the Joker's line of sight. I stopped at the end of the crowd and step forward a bit so it didn't look like I was hiding. The entire time I was looking for an escape route so I wasn't listening to the Joker terrorize the party guest. I had no clue what the Joker wanted with Harvey Dent but I could only imagine.
I started listening when an old man in a black suit had the nerves to answer the Joker. “We're not intimidated my thugs.” The Joker looked at him for a second. “You know, you remind me of my father.” The old man appeared repulsed at the statement but the Joker had more to add. “And I hated my father.” And then the man had a knife to his face and I was sure the man was dead but another voice entered the conversation and took the Joker by surprise. “Okay. Stop.” I recognized the voice and the owner from my many visits to the MCU. Rachel Dawes stepped out of the crowd and in to the clear walkway. I immediately felt sorry for her because I saw the seriousness in the Joker's face dissolve and be replaced with amusement.
“You must be Harvey's squeeze. And you are beautiful, aren't you?” The Joker approached Dawes the way a predator stalks their prey. It was almost frightening to watch but Dawes kept her place. “More beautiful than Bradley anyways.” I was stunned at being brought in the conversation in such a way that the only thing I could say was, “Thanks.” I probably should have kept my mouth shut and kept the crowd's attention on the Joker. “But I can fix that.” In one quick smooth motion the Joker pulled a handgun from his pocket. At first I thought he was going to shoot Dawes but then he pointed the gun in my direction and pulled the trigger.
Either the Joker had great aim or really bad aim for the bullet hit my left arm, about six inches below the shoulder. “What the hell?!” I cried as I collapsed to the floor. Blood was already gushing from the wound. “You look better covered in blood.” The Joker said before returning his attention to Rachel Dawes and leaving me there on the floor in agony. The pain shifted from a sharp stabbing to a cold arching. I cradled my arm and put as much pressure on the wound as possible to try and stop the bleeding. I wasn't a big blood person; I could already fill my head getting dizzy so I took my attention off my arm. I wasn't sure when Batman came into the picture but I did my best to stay out of everyone's way as I pulled myself up. I knew it was stupid at the time but I felt some what bad for bleeding on Bruce Wayne's floor.
My hair was disheveled which wasn't anything new to me. My days old mascara and eyeliner were smeared giving me the sad raccoon eyes. I did my best wipe off the stray lines but I still looked like a prostitute. My neck was the worst part. The bottom half of my neck was completely covered in bruises; a temporary imprint of the Joker's hand. The bruises on the side, by my shoulders, had a red coloration to them while the ones closer to the front had the traditional blue and purple mixture. Up by my chin was an inch long cut, which was surrounded my dried blood. I used the sleeve on my jacket to wipe the blood off which made the cut look less serious. And from the arching in my arms I knew if I was to inspect my limbs they would also be covered in bruises and cuts. I used my fingers to brush my hair out as much as possible before exiting the room.
I walked into the living room to find everyone standing in the middle of the room. The appeared to be waiting from me. There were six guys, counting Kevin, and most were wearing a mask of some kind. The Joker was leaning casually against the wall twirling a knife in his hands. He looked up when I closed the door to the bedroom. “Let's go.” The Joker announced with the familiar amusement in his voice. This time the Joker practically ignored me as I followed the men outside and into the van that was parked in the yard. I was happy about the lack of attention. I sat next some man in a clown mask since Kevin took his mask off and got in the driver seat. The Joker rode shotgun. As we drove through the now dark Gotham I noticed that everyone had a gun, or two, besides me. “Where are we going?” I whispered to the man next to me. I couldn't see his face or his reaction to my question but I did hear his answer. “To kill people.” That didn't really answer my question.
I sat in silence as we drove. I tried my best to keep my mind blank and away from the thousands of ways this situation could go bad. The van came to a sudden stop outside a large apartment building. It must have been an odd sight; six guys wearing mismatched masks, the Joker in all his glory and a battered teenager girl running into what I noticed to be the home of Bruce Wayne's penthouse. The decorative lobby was empty except for an old security guard sitting at the his post and a older man I recognized to be Detective Wortts walking towards the elevator. I didn't have the best view from the back of the group so I didn't see who hit the guard across the head but I did see the Joker put his shotgun to the back of the cop's head as the elevator door dinged open.
Everyone followed the Joker and his hostage into the elevator. I, however, didn't enter the elevator; I stayed on the safe side. “It looks a bit crowded in there. I'll just take the next.” I said quickly while taking a small step back from the elevator full of murdering lunatics. But when the Joker redirected his gun I changed my direction. “Okay, okay.” I timidly stepped next to the Joker and his hostage while trying to keep out of the arm's reach. The classical elevator music and the clown masks made this one much weirder than my previous elevator ride at City Hall. If I didn't die before I fulfilled my contract with the police I was sure I would have permanent heart damage from stress. Everything was happening too fast; I didn't have time to process the situation. All knew was that I need to get away from the murdering clowns and catch the first bus leaving town.
As we neared the top floor everyone started to load their weapons and I began to press myself to the side of the elevator intending not to get off. I hoped I would be forgotten when the door dinged open again and the action started. I hoped I would be left unnoticed in the elevator and free to take it back down. But I was never to be that lucky. When the elevator doors opened and the Joker and the rest of his men ran off the elevator I thought I was home free but I didn't expect a goon in a clown mask to pull me off the elevator with so much force I almost fell. The loud blast from the Joker's shotgun into the high ceiling silenced the party-goers except for a few cries from a few women in dresses that probably cost more than my mom's house.
“Hello ladies and gentlemen. We are tonight's entertainment.” A waiter somewhere in the crowd drop their tray and the sound of it crashing to the floor echoed throughout the otherwise silent room. I took my place behind a table of food. When I saw the food I realized how hungry I was for I hadn't ate in almost two days. I couldn't resist grabbing a handful of grapes off the silver tray. During my lunch break the Joker was still talking. “I only have one question. Where is Harvey Dent?” I walked though the crowd while throwing a purple grape in my mouth, trying to stay out of the Joker's line of sight. I stopped at the end of the crowd and step forward a bit so it didn't look like I was hiding. The entire time I was looking for an escape route so I wasn't listening to the Joker terrorize the party guest. I had no clue what the Joker wanted with Harvey Dent but I could only imagine.
I started listening when an old man in a black suit had the nerves to answer the Joker. “We're not intimidated my thugs.” The Joker looked at him for a second. “You know, you remind me of my father.” The old man appeared repulsed at the statement but the Joker had more to add. “And I hated my father.” And then the man had a knife to his face and I was sure the man was dead but another voice entered the conversation and took the Joker by surprise. “Okay. Stop.” I recognized the voice and the owner from my many visits to the MCU. Rachel Dawes stepped out of the crowd and in to the clear walkway. I immediately felt sorry for her because I saw the seriousness in the Joker's face dissolve and be replaced with amusement.
“You must be Harvey's squeeze. And you are beautiful, aren't you?” The Joker approached Dawes the way a predator stalks their prey. It was almost frightening to watch but Dawes kept her place. “More beautiful than Bradley anyways.” I was stunned at being brought in the conversation in such a way that the only thing I could say was, “Thanks.” I probably should have kept my mouth shut and kept the crowd's attention on the Joker. “But I can fix that.” In one quick smooth motion the Joker pulled a handgun from his pocket. At first I thought he was going to shoot Dawes but then he pointed the gun in my direction and pulled the trigger.
Either the Joker had great aim or really bad aim for the bullet hit my left arm, about six inches below the shoulder. “What the hell?!” I cried as I collapsed to the floor. Blood was already gushing from the wound. “You look better covered in blood.” The Joker said before returning his attention to Rachel Dawes and leaving me there on the floor in agony. The pain shifted from a sharp stabbing to a cold arching. I cradled my arm and put as much pressure on the wound as possible to try and stop the bleeding. I wasn't a big blood person; I could already fill my head getting dizzy so I took my attention off my arm. I wasn't sure when Batman came into the picture but I did my best to stay out of everyone's way as I pulled myself up. I knew it was stupid at the time but I felt some what bad for bleeding on Bruce Wayne's floor.