Raven

It was less than two miles to where The Joker had decided to hide out, and though it took a longer time than it would usually due to my injured ankle, the journey wasn’t all together awful. There was an almost comforting feeling in having his arm wrapped around my waist, though it was shadowed by the risk he could slit my neck at any given moment. But I took a chance, and it turned out fine.

The lake house he was now residing in, was run down and crumbling on the outside. The steps were literally cracking beneath our feet as The Joker pulled me up with him, and I cursed in pain as I was forced to put my weight onto my bad foot.

He crashed through the front door, causing his men inside to jump up shouting, aiming guns in the direction of the intruder that was, their boss. He stared them all down as they shuffled awkwardly, replacing their hand guns into their holsters, and presumed what they were doing, which appeared to be eating popcorn, and watching TV….productive.

I hopped away from The Joker, shrugging of my backpack and allowing it to slide with a thump from my back onto the wooden floor, where it lay in a sodden mess, but protecting the crisp folds of money inside. I collapsed into an empty chair, ignoring the men who were looking at me curiously, and wondering why The Joker wasn’t torturing me. Little did they know, who I really was…I was certainly no hostage.

I gritted my teeth as I pulled my trouser leg from my boots, and inspected my swollen ankle. From behind me, I could sense his men were growing restless in my company, uneasy not knowing why I was there. I could hear steps that weren’t The Joker, nearing my chair and I flicked my eyes upwards to see he was busying himself at a line of grenades on a table to the right.

I rolled my eyes at the stupidity of the buffoons he seemed to trust, and before they knew what I was doing, I had drawn my gun. The click of the safety catch caught all their attention and they stopped what they were doing at once to stare at me, and then to the man, my gun barrel was aiming for. He was paused, his back bent and his fingers spread to open my bag.

I glared at the fool, “Don’t even think about it.”

His eyes widened as he realised I was completely serious and he looked towards The Joker, “Boss?”

The Joker looked up from his grenade inspection. He hadn’t seemed to realise what was going on around him, and as his eyes took in the scene, he cackled widely, and rubbed his hands together before cocking his head to one side, and licking his lips in that nervous tic way of his.

He walked towards us slowly, his feet scuffing the wooden floors, and he pointed a finger at the man I was about to annihilate, “Andy, you’ve annoyed our guest.”

“Damn right, he’s annoyed me.” I spat, glaring at The Joker though my lips twitched in a smile, as his eyes sparkled in jest. He was having fun watching his men squirm, it would keep them on their toes, and I also needed to get respect from them…

I stood up, ignoring my protesting ankle and limped towards Andy, pressing the end of my gun to the soft part of his neck, “So…CB, how badly do you need this guy, or will I take him outside to kill…you don’t want your interior design messed up.”

I chuckled softly to myself, and Andy gulped, recognising the gleam of madness in my eyes as the same type of one, he could often see in The Jokers. It was a terrifying kind of madness, one you didn’t want to be on the bad side of…who knows what we could do.

The Joker hummed and hawed to himself for a moment, and turned to pick up a grenade, running it around his palm, and feeling it’s smooth surface, that held so much power. I glanced back at him, growing bored, flipped my switchblade open in my other palm and began to run the blade down Andy’s face, caressing it, soft enough not to break skin, hard enough to know I meant business.

“He makes our bombs…hasn’t had a catastrophe yet, have you Andy?” The Joker asked him, and Andy shook his head, a bead of sweat running down his forehead, becoming lost in an eyebrow. I grinned at him, “Bombs…tricky business, one mistake…and…”

Andy closed his eyes, as he prepared for me to press down on the trigger and end his pathetic life but I didn’t. Instead, I leant in closer to him, so my breath tickled his neck and whispered softly, but deadly into his ear, “Boom!”

I stepped away and The Joker giggled like a little girl to himself, and followed me as I picked up my bag and walked down the hallway to the nearest bedroom I could find. I tossed my bag onto the bed, and narrowed my eyes at him, as he followed me into the room, and closed the door.

“Let that be a lesson to your men that they don’t fuck with me, ok?”

He snorted and sat down on the bed, observing me as I walked to the bathroom, and inspected my face. I had a cut above my nose from a stone in the water, and my stomach was caked with dry blood from the wound I received from his blade.

I grumbled to myself, and looked acidly at The Joker, “whose room is this?”

He grinned, “Mine Birdie, all mine.”

I rolled my eyes, “Get me a first aid kit,”

He rose his eyebrows, and didn’t move so I half limped, half hopped back to the door, and opened it to peer back into the room where his men were at, “Andy, get me a fucking first aid kit, now!”

I could see the man jump as I screamed, and he quickly hurried to do my bidding. I could see the others fight the urge to jeer at him for already becoming my bitch, but by the way their eyes glanced up and down at me quickly, I could see they were already fearing me. Good.

I winked at Andy as he passed me the small green box and came back into the bedroom, to see The Joker rooting around my bag. I frowned, and hit him in the back with the plastic box in my hand, “Get out of there!”

He grunted as the container collided with his back, and swiped at me, “Where did you rob?”

I grinned as I removed my top, unmoved by the presence of a master villain, “Gotham Tax Offices,”

He nodded in approval and looked at me, as I began to clean my stomach, wincing slightly as the cotton wool passed over the ripped skin. But I’d dealt with far worse in my time.

I could feel his eyes on my body, my pants were tight around my legs, hugging them perfectly and still damp from the water. My stomach was lean, and my breasts good. He was a man, even if he was The Joker, why wouldn’t he look?

The warm water in the sink turned pink as I finished washing my wound, and wrapped a bandage around my torso, securing it tightly. I looked back at The Joker, who looked away and back again, seeming the most uncomfortable I’d ever seen him, yet at the same time, perfectly at ease.

I sat down beside him on the bed, pulling of my pants, yelping in pain as they caught around my ankle. The Joker laughed at my discomfort and then knelt onto the floor, helping me and then with a strange tenderness, picked up my foot, and looked at my swollen ankle.

“It’s only sprained, you’ll be fine in a few days.”

I rolled my eyes, “I know CB.”

He looked up at me, and for the first time, I realised I was half naked in a bra and underwear in The Joker’s bedroom. A thrill of excitement ran through me, as his eyes bore into mine for a moment and I imagined kissing him, laying with him. But the moment passed as he grabbed a bandage, and began to wrap it around my foot. I winced a few times, when he pressed too hard but he ignored me, continuing his medical duties. Finally when he was finished, I hopped up, my secure ankle feeling a little better, though I still didn’t place my weight on it.

I walked towards the window by the wall on the right side of the bed, and looked out, at the moon and stars. The Joker drew closer to me, and I could hear him breathing. And then something I didn’t expect, the soft touch of his fingertips, along the surface of my back, tracing the scars that disfigured my smooth skin.

I flinched violently, slapping his hands and whirling around to him, my eyes wild, “don’t! don’t touch me.”

For the first time, he said nothing but just looked at me, and then he traced his own smiling scars with the same finger he had traced mine with. I looked away, feeling weak, ashamed that I had shown my weakness, and closed my eyes against those flashbacks that always haunted me…like I’m sure he was haunted by his own.

“Everybody’s scarred in some way,” I whispered, almost to myself but I know he was listening, “But on us, they show.”