In the Mind of Madness

Kenna glanced around nervously, walking briskly to keep up with The Joker. She held tightly to the large pistol she’d been given, keeping it down by her hip as the group of demented clowns that she’d been dressed to fit in to strode quickly down the alley towards a pair of fading red doors. There was a chain through the handles secured with a large and imposing lock, but Kenna wasn’t stupid enough to think that would stop The Joker

As Kenna expected, he nodded his head towards a man who was only slightly taller than Kenna and wearing a mask with a huge leering smile and yellow teeth. The man produced what looked to Kenna like a giant pair of pliers from the duffle bag slung over his shoulder, running to the door and snapping through the chain like it was warm butter. He then unwound the chain from the handles, dropping it to the asphalt with a loud clink, and held the door open for them.

Kenna walked in next to The Joker, squinting at the suddenly dim light to see they were in what appeared to be the back room of a bar or restaurant. It was very smoky, but as The Joker waited for all his cohorts to enter and shut the door Kenna’s eyes adjusted, and she realized this couldn’t be an ordinary restaurant.

There was a pile of guns and stray bullets on a card table, and underneath the table were several saran-wrapped white blocks that Kenna identified as drugs, though she’d never seen them in real life before. She was so preoccupied with the casual appearance of such illegal paraphernalia Kenna didn’t realize The Joker had left the room.

“Kenna…you coming?”

Jumping a bit, Kenna nodded and scurried after Darla down a narrow hallway that led out of the back room. Panic squeezed inside her throat when she realized The Joker was separated from her by several large goons, allowing her no space to get to him. If she hadn’t been so terrified she might have pondered how bizarre and horrifying it was that The Joker meant safety as well as mortal peril in her life, but Kenna just bit the inside of her bottom lip and worried.

The Joker had given her no instructions for when they…well, when they did whatever it was he wouldn’t tell her they were doing. The time he had made her rob a bank with him he’d at least told her what to do. This time Kenna only had a gun and no clue what to do with it.

Maybe being kept in the dark was her punishment for being disobedient. The Joker had said she was “grounded”. Grabbing Darla’s shoulder, Kenna hissed close to her ear ‘what do I do?’

“Just stay close to The Boss or me and point your gun at the guys pointing guns at us.”

Kenna groaned internally. Why were there always guns? But she had no more time to wallow in misery, because The Joker was kicking in a door and gunshots were making Kenna’s ears ring. It was never mentioned on television shows how loud guns were, but it made Kenna think her eardrums might burst.

“Top of the morning to ya, lads!” crowed the mad clown’s voice as the exited the hallway. Kenna wondered if it sent chills down anyone else’s spine like it always did hers.

Kenna stood on her toes behind Darla to find out what was going on, able to see a restaurant that was extravagantly decorated with dark wood-paneled walls, and also a man in a suit sitting on a stool clutching a gunshot wound in his chest. Blood was gushing between his fingers, causing Kenna to look away and blink to stave off any dizziness or nausea.

“What a pleasant surprise.” said a male voice that was very low and colored by a thick Scottish brogue. “Though not all tha’ surprisin’.”

The goons were filing out of the hallway, causing Kenna to gasp because that meant she had to do the same thing. As she moved forward closely on Darla’s heels, Kenna could see more of the men in the room. There were five in all, not counting the man on the stool because he was clearly out of commission. Four of them had guns of various sizes pointed at The Joker and his own five guys, guys being used loosely due to Darla and Kenna’s presence. But it wasn’t like anyone could tell their genders through their baggy clothes and masks.

Kenna’s eyebrows rose when she realized she recognized the man who didn’t have a gun. Darla elbowed her and softly cleared her throat, reminding Kenna to raise the pistol in her hand. She pointed it at the man closest to her, a hulking figure in a gray suit with an SMG, and then focused on remembering the unarmed man.

It clicked after a moment. She’d seen him in the restaurant with The Joker, Kenna was sure of that much, but she’d only caught a glimpse of him and hadn’t heard a thing he said. He was sitting at a small, round table covered by a white table cloth much like the other tables around him. He was large, his stomach straining against the white button-down shirt he wore beneath a deep red suit jacket. His face was very square with a large nose and black eyes that were staring directly at The Joker with evident distaste. He had vibrant orange hair that was the same color as the thick stubble on his chin. In one of his large hands was a glass of an almost black liquid topped with tan foam, in the other a cigar that spiraled pale smoke into the already clouded air of the room.

Kenna almost jumped when Darla shifted uncomfortably beside her, prompting Kenna to take a look around. The entire time she’d been examining the red-haired man not a word had been said. The goons on both sides of the room were looking at each other uncertainly, restless without instruction from their respective masters. Kenna glanced sidelong at The Joker, finding a large smile on his face that bared his yellowed teeth. The deadly smile seemed to display almost as much aggression as mirth, and Kenna had a feeling this was definitely entertaining the painted villain.

The two men were staring each other down, sizing the other up and deciding their next move. Kenna almost felt pity for The Joker’s opponent, because she knew the clown had no set plan until it was actually happening, and it was never good.

“Maroni’s not even cold in his grave and you take over the territory…couldn’t be more transparent if ya were made of glass, Mickey.”

Chuckling, the man at the table puffed on his cigar. “That why yer here, then? To discuss ethics, is it?”

“Well, I’ve got the time if you do.” The Joker checked his imaginary watch for the second time that day, raising his eyebrows at the man sitting at the table.

“Cut the shite, Joker.” the man sniggered, shaking his head as if at a child. “I know why yer here, an’ yer just embarressin’ yerself. Ya don’t scare me, an’ I ain’t gonna cut no deals.”

Kenna wondered if The Joker was getting upset or not, but his voice was alarmingly normal as he answered. “Oh, I’m not here for deals, either. I just came to deliver a little message from…well, a message from me.” The Joker then looked back at one of his men. “Show ‘em my message, Bonkers.”

The man pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, lowering his gun and stepping forward very slowly to toss it onto the table. The suit-clad guards all flinched and muttered, but the man at the tbale raised a hand to silence them, looking at the wad of paper without much interest. After a moment he sighed and picked it up, unfurling it from itself with large, meaty fingers.

Darla’s arm tensed, and Kenna could see as she looked over that the other goons were also steadying their grips on their weapons. Apparently the paper was going to provoke a strong reaction. Kenna tightened the muscles in her arms, sudden adrenaline bolting up through her spine and out to her fingertips. She didn’t want to fire a gun. She looked around frantically behind her mask for somewhere to duck when the shooting started. It had gotten dramatically hotter in the room, sweat now dripping down the sides of Kenna’s face.

The man stared at the paper, which Kenna realized was actually a photograph. He only looked down at it for a long while, the only change in his expression being a slight twitch to his upper lip and his face turning beet red from forehead to neck. In a split second he was up, cigar and drink flying, and it startled Kenna so badly she was amazed no bullets had been fired at the loud noise of his chair toppling backwards.

“You…you…you have no idea what you’ve started!” the man’s voice boomed through the tense air like thunder, the hand still clutching the picture pointing a shaking finger at The Joker.

Flicking lint off his sleeve casually, The Joker shrugged. Then he looked as if he’d remembered something. “Oh, and P.S: don’t mess with my things.”

There was a very pregnant pause where the red-faced man gave The Joker a murderous look. After a moment a smile that could have rivaled The Joker’s began to form on his quivering mouth.

“Your things, eh? I know you, clown man. I read da papers, an’ I watch da evenin’ news. So I know about dat girl, but I ain’t as stupid as da other fine denizens a’ Gotham, so I know what I’m gonna do now, clown man…”

Kenna stopped listening. She was not only overheating in the mask now, her skin was crawling and her heart was pounding. Whatever The Joker had done, it had riled the man in the red jacket up enough to threaten her. And she felt threatened.

Her back hit the wall and Kenna winced, but they weren’t paying attention to her. They were still shouting, the man in the red coat was shouting at The Joker that is. Kenna wondered with a bit of suspicion why he hadn’t given the signal to his men to fire on The Joker yet. Kenna was wondering about a lot of things, like what the man had done to The Joker to make him do whatever he’d done in retaliation. But Kenna was distracted from her thoughts by movement in her peripheral vision.

The man crouched behind the bar thought Kenna couldn’t see him, though she was the only one far back enough to get a good look behind the bar. He was moving slowly but getting faster, a gun in his hand and his eyes on The Joker. Then Kenna understood.

The man was only continuing to yell rather than act because he needed to distract The Joker long enough for his man to do his job. Kenna didn’t know what she was doing, but the man was standing and the gun was almost touching The Joker’s back and there was a roaring in her ears as she aimed the gun at the man and squeezed the trigger.

After her gunshot there were about twenty more. Kenna dropped to the floor, scrambling back behind a booth and dropping her own gun to the floor. She looked up in time to see Darla diving behind the booth with her, and across from them The Joker had taken cover behind the bar. His mouth was open in a big grin, and Kenna realized with a violent start that he was clutching his shoulder, blood staining the purple of his coat and gloves dark.

Then Kenna looked down at the man she’d shot, her body flooding with relief despite the continued gunfire when she saw him writhing and clutching his ear. He was shrieking loud enough to be heard over the commotion, but it stopped with a gurgle when The Joker used his good arm to pull a knife from his pocket and jam it into the side of the man’s throat.

Kenna gaped until Darla grabbed her by the arm and shook her.

“We gotta go!” mouthed the red-head, making Kenna realize her mask was missing.

Ripping off her own mask and throwing it to the floor to land near her gun, Kenna nodded.