Drenched in Blood

The Joker jumped up and went into the bathroom, he got into the shower and tried to wash off his feelings. He put his head under the water and thought about his time being a preteen. The Joker was the problem child at his orphan home. Constantly, they asked if he needed to talk. They didn’t seem to understand that he was perfectly okay, completely emotionless, as always. He rarely came home on time and he was constantly skipping school to set in the park and watch people. He started to learn how they work. How they used each other, how they talked to each other. And at school, when the teachers asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, he would tell them he wanted to be a sociologist.

Somehow, he knew he would never be a sociologist, the tears and cries of pain he heard when he intimidated the other kids at the home, was too much fun to one day let go of. He especially enjoyed telling the younger kids to do certain things, like putting worms in the teacher’s desk. They did it too, they were so easy to manipulate. The Joker went by Jack, so no one would call him a freak. He knew better than to go by his ‘true’ name.

It had been three years since he had killed his father. One morning, he sat on a bench at the park and a woman with long blonde hair was walking towards him, he smiled to his self. He had been manipulating this woman every day, she sat on the bench next to him, “Hey, Joker,” she smiled, “I brought you some food, today.”

He had been feeding her false information about his ‘life’, it made her feel deeply sorry for him, “Thanks, Jessie,” he smiled, falsely, “I was thinking and I was wondering if we could take a walk today?”

Jessie smiled, “Sure, Joker, whatever you want.”

They walked for a while until they were out of plain view. He stopped and turned towards her, he reached into his pocket feeling the knife in his hand, “I always knew you’d be the first,” he told her, taking a step towards her.

“What do you mean?” her face was slightly amused.

He stepped closer, pulling out his knife, hiding it in the sleeve of his purple jacket, “I knew that you were too soft, too gentle. I thought, ‘hey, maybe I could keep her around,’ but I can’t,” she backed away from him, “You see, you are just like all these…other people around here. You only care about what makes your little conscious clean.”

He pushed her up against the cement-wall, “Joker, what are you doing, Stop it!”

The Joker pressed his knife against her throat, “It was nice knowing you Jessie,” and for the first time in three years, he felt the satisfaction of killing another human.

The Joker turned off the water and reached for the towel. He started drying his self off. French heard the water in the shower turn off, it woke her. She started getting dressed. The Joker opened the door and came in to the room. He could see French’s scarred-up back, fully exposed. He licked his lips, walking towards her. Then, he wrapped his arm around her waist and started to nibble on her body, from the back of her neck to her ribs. Her skin buzzed, she stepped forward, trying to ignore him.

“Good Morning,” she mumbled, picking up her bra off the bed.

He rolled his eyes and stalked past her, kind of annoyed at being rejected. As he went past, she was slightly shocked, she hadn’t seen him out of make-up for a while. The scars on his cheeks, shown more heavily. The Joker started getting dressed. After she was dressed in a revealing outfit, her scars plainly visible, she went to Chaos’s room. Chaos was still asleep, her thumb slightly in her mouth.

“Get a babysitter,” the Joker growled as he walked past French, “We have a meeting with the Batman tonight.”

French looked at his back, shaking her head and shut the door, “Lisha?” she called.

The short girl with the wild curly hair named Lisha came up to her, “Yeah?”

“You’re going to stay here and watch Chaos tonight,” she told her, “Don’t let her stay up past eight and make sure she eats.”

“I will,” Lisha assured her.

“Or you’re dead,” French added, turning to follow the Joker down the hall.

The Joker grabbed her when she made it down the stairs and dragged her to the van. French gritted her teeth. She wanted to yell at him. Instead, she kept her mouth shut. They flew towards the center of Gotham where the news station was, “Go in there and give them this, now.”

French pulled her small hand gun out of her pocket and forced her way in, “Play this tape now, Goddammit!”

People ran screaming in all different directions. She shoved it at the first person who worked there. The person ran up the stairs, carrying the tape away, just for fun she shot one of the nearest people to her. Then, she ran out, leaving screams coming out, behind her. She jumped back into the van and the Joker flew off towards one of the many warehouses where a TV worked. He watched the screen, excitedly. Two-face and him popped up on the screen.

“Good Afternoon, Gotham,” the Joker giggled, “I have two-face here, oh wait, the city doesn’t, umm, know yet, do they?” he pushed Harvey jokingly, “Go on, tell them.”

Two-face looked at the screen, “I used to think Gotham was full of good, perfect,” he smiled, threateningly, “But through the Joker, I have seen the truth. Now, I am going to show you just how…wonderful Gotham really is,” he sneered.

The Joker giggled, “I taught him well, didn’t I? What we are saying is that there is a new, ah, sheriff in town. The umm, Batman and his little Robin will not be able to help.”

Two-face smiled at the screen, “Good choice of words.”

Then they flickered off of the screen, the Joker looked over at French, she was slightly amazed, “Do you get the, ah, pun, Biscuit?” he asked, stroking her scars.

“How did you do it?” she couldn’t hid her amazement, “You…corrupted Harvey Dent?”

“Yeah, Harvey Dent, believe it, Sugar, I am capable of anything I put my mind to. Did you not pay attention to all those, ah, inspirational speakers when you were a child, hmm?” he pressed his slightly rough lips to her neck, moving them up and down her neck, “I did.”

Despite herself, she started to breath, heavily, “At least one of us were listening.”

“Joker!” French jumped, the Joker pulled away from her, hysteric laughter spelt out of his mouth, they turned to see Robin running towards him.

“How’d you ever find us?” the Joker asked, fluttering his eyelashes at him.

Robin rolled his eyes, “I know you’re disappointed but Batman isn’t coming.”

The Joker laughed, “Let me guess, you lied to him and ran out after me, despite his orders?”

Robin didn’t say anything and lunged for the Joker. The Joker pulled out his knife, a large smile was clear across his face. After a couple of swings, the Joker sliced open the side of Robin’s face. French jumped in then, pushing Robin down, giggling. The Joker pulled her off of him, “He’s mine,” he growled.

The Joker kicked Robin in the side, “Joker, you will regret this,” Robin warned.

The Joker grabbed him by the throat, pressing his knife into Robin’s throat, “What does it feel like? Is your heart pounding? Is the air whooshing through your lungs?” the Joker purred, pushing the knife down into his throat, purposefully missing his jugular, “What about now?”

French giggled, as the blood started to come out of his throat, “Come on, let me finish it,” she begged, hopping from side-to-side.

“Fine,” he growled, standing up.

Robin sputtered, “Batman will get you,” it was barely coherent.

“Oh what?” she laughed, straddling him, “Your butt-buddy will come get us, ooh scary,” she shoved the knife into his jugular, “Nighty night, Robin.”