Body Count

Two restless nights later, gunshots echoed through the halls of the warehouse, jolting Shane out of her half-sleep. Several bangs and shouts reverberated off of the crumbling concrete walls.

Just like last night, and the night before. Because life in the warehouse of The Joker was laced with fear and unrelenting laughter. But mostly fear.

Shane ached everywhere. Her ankle was slowly decreasing in size, but the pain was making up for it by sending burning sensations up and down the left side of her body. Her broken hand was no longer stinging, but it was cramped and stiffened into position with the help of her leather glove, which she had not removed. Of course, her shoulder still refused to stop throbbing, but the cut was slowly healing over. That, at least, was a small ray of hope.

Her only ray of hope or happiness, really.

Since her second night in the scarehouse, as Odie liked to call it in her presence, she had obtained multiple new bruises and cuts all over her body. The Joker, far from being a mildly caring captor, was a highly abusive tyrant in her pitiful life. He pushed her, he pulled her, he hit her, and he laughed. All, seemingly, for sport. Because he didn't throw her in front of any more cameras to pose after he'd colored her skin purple. He threw her back to the dogs - or the clowns. And they were no better.

She reckoned she'd been hit over the head at least once by every one of The Joker's henchmen. They disliked her for being painted like the boss, as they viewed that as an esteemed position. She wished she could have told them, during one of her many beatings, that it was not a prestigious place. She was treated like a dog by The Joker, no better and certainly much worse than most of them. They never listened.

Perhaps they were egged on by the far-fetched stories of pampering and civilized conversation Odie was spreading. He did, indeed, never miss a chance to tell anybody who would listen that just last night The Joker had treated her to a five course meal, complete with appetizers and dessert.

Angry tears sprang to her eyes as these thoughts came to mind. Couldn't they see the way she limped when she stumbled out of The Joker's presence? The way she whimpered when he wanted to 'talk to her alone'? Couldn't they see that there was absolutely no love between them?

But the abuse continued, for nearly two solid days, before they let her collapse in a store room at the back of the building to sob herself into a dreamless sleep. Daemyn was the only clown that hadn't touched her. He was either smart enough to see through Odie's lies, or he had a heart. No matter what the case, though, Shane was sure she liked him the most.

As the clash of bullets on flesh deafened her ears, shaking her to the bones, the door creaked open and a dim ray of light flooded the room. A clown with a blue smiling mask poked his head through. The sight of that thin, sapphire smile sent a flood of relief to her briefly hammering heart. That was Daemyn's mask, and he was the one who had coincidentally been bringing her small portions of food when nobody was looking.

"Princess," he said quietly, using the name that The Joker used for her. "You should get up. The warehouse is empty, all except for me and The Joker. You can have a quick wash before everybody gets back from work."

Her heart rate quickened. She'd been longing for a proper shower ever since they got here, and Daemyn had told her there was a locker room at the other end of the building, with a few working taps that ran hot water.

"Hurry!" he said, beckoning her with one bare hand. "I don't know how long they'll be gone ..."

The two tore across the main floor, trying to keep their footsteps light while covering as much ground as possible. The sky outside the windows was a dark, navy blue. The heaters were blasting warm air into the warehouse. They reached a dark green door at a trot, and Daemyn shoved it open.

"I'll stand out here," he said in a whisper. "Be quick. There are towels and a bar of soap."

She hobbled into the musty green room, which had one light bulb hanging from a chain in the middle of the shower area. There were no curtains, but low-walled stalls and a holey towel draped over the nearest one.

"Great," she muttered, picking up the piece of cloth to find it damp with warm water and still a little soapy from the last wash it had gone through. "Used."

Wasting no time, she threw her clothes down near the mouth of the shower stall, afraid to leave them too far away. The water that spurted from the overhead tap was icy cold at first, but warmed at a painfully slow pace as she grabbed the bar of soap sitting under the tiles. Once she felt her skin was acceptably soapy, she stepped under the jet of water and shut her eyes as her body rinsed.

The process took all of three minutes, but she was only half dry when Daemyn opened the door slightly and said, "Hurry up!"

"Are they back?" she asked frantically, tossing aside the towel and pulling her clothes on over her slick skin.

"No, it's - boss!" Daemyn's voice had gone from commanding to submissive, and Shane's heart started to beat wildly.

"Is she in there?" His voice was deceivingly calm.

"Yes," Daemyn replied. "Having a shower." His voice quavered.

"And why didn't you tell me?" Shane was now trying to pull her sock on, but it kept sticking on the foot she hadn't gotten to dry fully.

"I thought she'd be done by now, but -" The sound of fist on jaw came to Shane's ears, and Daemyn fell silent. The door creaked open halfway, and she heard a sharp step on the floor.

"Oh, Princess!" The Joker sang, poking his head in. She saw that his eyes were closed. "Are you in here?"

"Yes," she said, stomping her foot into her other shoe and standing stock still. "I'm here."

His head swiveled in her direction, and his eyes opened. "There you are!" He stepped forward, so he was barely a foot away from her, but on the other side of the partition. "Why didn't you tell me you were here, hmm? No, don't tell me. You're afraid of me. You think I'm going to hurt you," His voice rose and fell with exaggerated emotion, and his hands waved around irrationally. One of them shot out and his fingers wrapped themselves through her hair. "And I am going to hurt you!"

That dreaded, low, rough pitch of his voice wrapped around Shane, enveloping her in fear and foreboding. Her bottom lip quivered as The Joker made his slow, predatory way around the wall and towards her.

"Come here, Princess. Let's put a smile on that face."