Crossroads

Tap, tap, tap.

There was a certain restlessness fluttering in Hayley's stomach, the sort of feeling similar to butterflies - a light sense of nausea, and a deeper urge to run hiding beneath it. And, usually, she would be one to follow it, dive headfirst and allow this gut-feeling to lead the way.

But when running meant certain death, what could she do? She had hobbled over to every door that lead outside, only to find a hulking, leering guard, clad in a damn clown mask, nozzle pointed right at her face. Hell, if she hadn't felt so bruised and battered, she might have given it a go anyway.

But instead she was sitting at the round, splintered table, drumming her fingers against the tabletop, practically twitching with nervous energy. Why wasn't she dead? If the Joker didn't like politics, why was he adhering to them? Did she have any broken bones? And, for the love of God, why -

The door suddenly slammed open, and Hayley shrieked, hands flying to her mouth as Kyle tumbled into the room, wide eyed.

"What the fuck?" They chorused at the same time.

"Do you... have all your fingers?" Kyle wheezed, bending over and leaning his hands on his knees, like he had sprinted all the way here.

"Yes." Hayley raised her hands and waggled her fingers. "Why are you out of breath?"

He waved his hand around his head, and Hayley's throat constricted at the similarity to the Joker's mannerism.

"Nothing...to worry about." He sat up, finally having composed himself, apart from a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. "You wanna go smoke somewhere?"

"You know I hate smoking."

"Figure now's the time to start." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, tossing his head in the direction of the door behind him. "I'll check your injuries too."

Hayley contemplated for a split second, before standing up and following him out of the room.

"Let's hope the cancer kills me first."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."



"Just so you know, this is probably where you're gonna sleep."

Hayley glanced around for a few seconds, before rolling her eyes. "It's an upgrade from my current place of residence."

A heavy silence fell, with Kyle staring down at his crossed legs and Hayley staring at anything but him.

"I am sorry."

"I know, you've said."

Without another word, he offered the packet of cigarettes to her, and she plucked one out, staring at it querulously.

He handed the lighter to her, and she lit it, breathing in deeply - and, as inexperienced as she was, instantly began to splutter and gasp.

"Alright, lift up your shirt." he said, after his laughter at her had subsided.

Cigarette dangling precariously from her bottom lip, she huffed, before hooking her fingers around the edge of the frayed top and yanking it up, face turned deliberately away. She didn't really want to see what a car wreck it was, but from the low hiss that came from Kyle, she could imagine it.

"It's difficult to tell without an x-ray, which will obviously never happen, but hopefully it's just really deeply bruised." He gently prodded her side, mottled with sickeningly dark purples and greens and yellows, small portions of unharmed white flesh peering out as if frightened. "Best case scenario, it'll heal in a month. Worst, two."

Hayley shuddered, pulling the half-finished cigarette from her mouth and grinding it into the floor.

"I can't sit around, waiting for him to kill me, for two months."

"He'll only kill you if you really piss him off." There was a certain edge to Kyle's tone, as if to say don't do what you usually do.

"Why?"

"Politics."

"Goddamit." she cried, dropping her hold on her t-shirt. "What kind of fucking politics?"

Kyle sighed, tucking the packet of cigarettes back into his front pocket. "Like I told you, pretty bad ones. Look, if I tell you he'll kill me: all I can say is that it's related to the mob."

The room lapsed into silence, with Kyle staring at Hayley intently, gauging her reaction.

"Do you guys have like, clown names?"

"Wait, what?"

"Like, when you're out being horrible people, robbing banks and stuff, I'm sure the Joker's not gonna go 'Kyle Mathews! Chuck me that grenade! You must have some sort of clown name that adds to his image."

"I..." He trailed off, squinting at her in utter confusion. "Mine's Bingo. Like Bingo the Clown-o."

Hayley burst out into laughter at that, and eventually Kyle joined her, although his was much more tentative and quiet.

"Is Kyle Mathews your real name?"

Her swinging moods and topic changes were worrying him somewhat - she didn't seem all there, after he had given her that small insight into her position.

"Yes. It is." He switched positions abruptly, leaning forwards on his knees, an earnest air about him. "Look, I know you don't give a damn, and that's fine, but it wasn't all lies, honestly." It seemed like this appeal had been building up for a long time.

"How much of it was?" she raised her eyes up from her lap, the intensity of her gaze almost making Kyle's eyes burn.

"Not the feeling behind it."

There was a small faltering in her face - the sharp angles and edges softening somewhat - but then she scowled, and her defence went back up, as it always did. Kyle wanted to scream in frustration - it had always been so hard to get through to her.

"That doesn't matter anymore. In about a month I'm probably going to be dead, and you might even be dead before that, the type of crowd you run around with." her voice was hard, but there was an undeniable truth behind it.

"I know."

Sensing the dark, heavy veil of sadness that had shrouded itself around Hayley, Kyle stood up, prepared to leave her to brood - he knew her well enough to know that's what she wanted. He turned to leave.

"Kyle", her voice was soft, and he froze with his hand on the doorknob. "Do you think he'll tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know what's going on in his head. Who does? But you'll have plenty of time to persuade him."

"What do you mean by that? It seems like he's out most days."

"Yeah, but," he turned around, a sheepish expression on his face. "This room is, sort of his room. Actually, he probably won't like that we smoked in here, so I'm going to keep the door open - "

"Wait." her voice was dangerously low. "I'm supposed to sleep with him?" The scattered papers on the desk, filled with indecipherable writing and doodles, made sense now.

"Uh, if it helps, I agree with him. I mean, his group aren't the most outstanding bunch of citizens - and, you know, you're a girl, so -"

The image of those extremely muscular, leering guards flitted across her mind's eye.

"I get it. Raped and killed, right?" her voice was still at that chillingly low timbre. "Why can't I sleep with you?"

"I was hoping for that, but considering my emotional outburst when he was -" he hesitated, trying to find the right term "-hurting you, he thinks that with some persuasion I would help you escape."

Hayley stayed silent, eyes slightly unfocused and off to the left, where the edge of the doorframe was. A few moments passed, and Kyle was about to open his mouth and speak, when she leaped up and stormed at him, so quickly that he had no time to react before she had shoved him outside and slammed the door behind him.

Voice tinged with anxiety, he knocked on the door.

"Hayley -"

A grating, groaning screech filled the dingy corridor then, followed by a gentle scraping sound, and with a mounting sense of horror Kyle realised that she was probably barricading herself in, using the Joker's desk. A hard push on the door confirmed this, as it seemed a lot heavier than it had been a few moments ago.

"Jesus Christ." he rested his head against the door, before shouting: "This counts as pissing him off, you know!"

"I hope he feels really inconvenienced!" she screamed back.

Kyle flinched, before drawing in a deep breath. "Stop and think about this for one goddamn second!"

The only reply were a series of muffled thumps, no doubt her piling anything remotely heavy against the door.

Dread coiled, thick and heavy, in his stomach. This wasn't going to be good.



"So," The Joker's dark, gravelly voice rumbled through the door. "Uh, what stage of grief is this supposed to be?"

"Don't you dare." She snarled, face a millimetre from the door, imagining that the Joker's bemused, bottomless gaze was there instead.

"Anger, huh? Y'know, it's about time you get over this whole... dead brother thing. Or, soon enough, it's gonna be a dead siblings thing."

"No. You need me. If you didn't I would already be dead!" she bit back.

One of the thickest, darkest silences Hayley has ever experienced in her life. Then a low, guttural rumble. Completely absent of amusement.

"Need you?"

An ear-splitting crash sounded in the room, and Hayley instantly jumped up, staring with a mixture of horror and disbelief as what looked like the edge of an axe cut through the door, the vibrations knocking over the unsteady objects she had piled onto the desk - books and stacks of paper tumbling to the floor with each thwack.

One long, purple-clad leg hooked itself over the splintered hole in the door, shortly followed by the leering, painted face of the person she wanted to see least. With a quick push he knocks the desk on its side, remaining papers briefly fluttering through the air in a cloud of white and blue.

Every muscle in her body was stiff, desperately trying not to yield, not to falter and back away: but her heart was thumping wildly in her chest, to the point where she was certain she could see it faintly push her skin. As much as she hated to admit it, she was terrified: and so when the Joker stormed towards her, eyes blazing and scarlet lips pulled into a snarl, she stumbled backwards, turned tail and ran.

The next thing she knew, a hand fisted in her hair and pulled, hard, dragging her backwards.

"Get off of me!" her hands leaped up to her abused scalp, trying to loosen his grip. "I swear to God, I'll -"

He was muttering, not really listening to her half-baked threats, and in the midst of her own screaming and shrieking she could only pick up a few select words. Not worth, trying to achieve. Teacher. Either thought or throat.

Probably throat, as he then decided to painfully grab hers, and shove her against the edge of the bed. The sudden pressure on her ribs made her eyes water, as did the vulnerable position she was in: the way her body was bent bared her neck fully to him, and he looked moments away from ripping it out with his teeth.

"How about I tell you an... educational story? About a, uhm... a dog. No, a rat." His lip curled into a cruel smirk, eyes glinting dangerously. The axe seemed to have been released in the struggle, and was now replaced by a much smaller blade, with just as much potential to end her life.

"I haven't worked for the mob in years." She hissed despite her fear, bristling at the insult.

"A rat's a rat, Hayyyleeey." She tried to shoot a retort, but he clapped a hand over her mouth, silencing her. "So," he leant in, warm, rancid breath washing over her as he spoke, sharp knife ghosting over the skin on her cheeks, a warning to behave. "When I was young, I used to own a rat. A filthy, stinking rat, that I picked up off the streets. I had this liiitle box for it, and I kept it under my bed." he licks his lips, swallows, breaks his intense eye-contact to stare off into the distance. "Now, one day, the rat bites me." his voice lowers to bone-chilling rumble, and Hayley's breath catches in her throat, wide eyes transfixed on his face. "And I realise, that this pet wasn't worth the trouble it caused. So you know what I did? Hmmm?"

He glanced back at her, pausing for a moment as if expecting an answer. She simply clenched her jaw, the movement shifting the Joker's hand slightly - her eyes were blurring from having to stare at his at such a close range.

"I placed my foot over the rat's head..." the hand over her mouth tightened, fingers digging into her jawline more and more with each word, "and I crushed it."

The painful pressure on her jaw was released, the Joker patting it twice before sitting up. Hayley blinked, vision coming back into focus, to see the Joker towering over her, arms stiff by his sides, limp green curls falling into his face.

"Have I made myself clear now, sweets?"

She swallowed, hard, throat shifting - the Joker's gaze flickered down briefly to watch the movement.

"Crystal."

It was intended to be hard and bitter, but instead came out wheezy.

"Perfect." he purred.