Body Count

Inside the stuffy, over decorated building, Shane was working hard to keep her face hidden from the empty room. The main foyer, which they had entered through, had been deserted. A large desk to the side had been unoccupied, with a small sign on top saying, 'Out To Lunch: Back in 10'. The Joker had ushered her right past it, casting looks to and fro to make sure they were indeed alone.

The second hall they entered, much bigger and three times as long as the first, had several large double doors leading off of it. It was one giant curve, so Shane couldn't see the ends, but there was no need. The door The Joker led her through was the one directly in front of them, whose doors were thrown wide open to reveal a darkened amphitheater. They walked in quietly, their footsteps muffled by a thick, rich red carpet.

The theater was enormous, and Shane realized why the hall behind them was set on a curve. This room would extend at least halfway down either end of the hall, obstructing the other halls like this, but much smaller, through all the other doors. It was dimly lit by an enormous chandelier, which was dotted with flickering and puttering candles. The effect this had was that every shadow that stretched across the floor wobbled mysteriously. The room itself was a sunken pit, with a large, round stage in the center. Plush red seats rose in levels and rows around it, and Shane noticed dark figures hunched in the shadows all throughout the hall. Some of these were surely The Joker's goons.

Wordlessly, but trotting along merrily The Joker descended to the very front row and plopped himself into one of the cushy seats. Shane followed more slowly, looking around at all the faces hidden in shadow. Was Odie here? Or Ricky? Daemyn wasn't, she was sure of that; he had been sleeping when she left. As she settled gingerly into the seat beside The Joker, more people started filing into the doors. Apparently, they'd arrived just in time.

The thick darkness that surrounded them made quite sure their faces were not visible, but Shane was still extremely jittery, jumping at small noises and constantly clutching the arm of her seat. The patrons arriving were all very well-dressed, with bright blue dresses and extravagant shawls, or flowing coat tails and monocles. She very violently out of place in this crowd of swanky, woebegone, dodgy group of people.

A man in the row directly across from them, sitting across the stage, sneezed. Shane jumped nearly a foot in the air, but The Joker was suddenly tense and still.

"Bad sign," he muttered, his eyes darting from side to side while his head remained completely still.

"Why?" Shane said, in a hardly audible whisper.

"Means Stone isn't here yet." His gaze was now directed, for some reason, at the center of the stage, which was empty.

"Stone?" She paused, thinking hard. She couldn't recall The Joker ever mentioning somebody by the name of Stone. "Is he ... erm ... new?"

He chuckled, but it was strained. "No. His friend works here. He's been convinced to see the show tonight."

A feeling of dread and apprehension crept up her spine. "He doesn't know we're here, does he?"

A shake of the head.

"And he's not going to like it, is he?"

"I'm very doubtful that he will, Princess."

A sharp stabbing sensation occurred somewhere behind her naval. The nickname, 'Princess' held something for her that she no longer liked very much. She squirmed.

The man across from them yawned widely, his arms stretching and his mouth agape. The Joker relaxed.

"He's here."

Shane looked around for somebody who might be called Stone, who looked like they were in danger, but the theater had filled now and she couldn't tell one shadowed face from the next.

Just then, the candles above were extinguished, and a spotlight was focused instead on the edge of the stage, to the right of Shane and The Joker. They looked over, The Joker bouncing in his seat happily.

A man walked on stage, wearing a three piece suit in different hues of black and red. He had an unappealing walrus mustache that fluttered every time he exhaled, and his arms were raised high in greeting. The spotlight followed him as he walked towards center stage.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to tonight's performance of 'Feathers and Furry Things!'"

Shane's nose wrinkled. That title did not sound promising. Indeed, the mustached man cringed as he uttered the words.

"I dearly hope you all enjoy yourselves this evening! The show will begin in precisely ..." He paused as he put his hand to his ear, where a coiled wire extended down to his shirt. "Two and a half minutes!"

"Two and a half minutes," The Joker said, pulling a small black box out of his pocket. "I'm afraid not."

A man in the middle of the audience and far up to their right got up surreptitiously and crept down towards the stage. Due to the spotlight blinding them all on stage, though, he went unnoticed by all but Shane and The Joker. He made his slow, hunched way to the stage and shouldered a concealed door on the side open. He disappeared.

The black box was resting lightly on The Joker's lap, a small red light on the side blinking on and off. Nobody saw.

Slow, boring music started to play from the gigantic speakers hanging perilously from the ceiling. Shane felt that if the show didn't start soon, she would fall asleep. Or she would have if she was one of those people in the crowd, unaware that something bad was surely about to happen. Instead, her whole body was tense with expectancy and fear. The paint on her face held her expression in check.

Just then, a sweating, trembling man burst on stage from a trap door in the very center. Just visible to those who were paying attention was a hand holding onto his ankle from below. The expression of barely concealed fear on his face greatly sullied the brawny look he had. He was hardly taller than Shane, but muscle was wrapped thickly on his arms, torso, and legs. His hair, a dirty blond, was sticking to his slick forehead and shining under the newly focused spotlight. Shane felt an odd pang of liking towards him, although she didn't know why.

"Good - good evening, ladies and gents," the man started, gulping and staring fixedly at the high beamed ceiling. "My name is Stone Bruner, and I'm here tonight to ... to tell you -" He broke off, pulling at his collar nervously. "To tell you that - that Shane Fatello is here tonight."

All color drained from Shane's face - or, at least, it did beneath the make-up. Cold sweat trickled down her neck. Shooting The Joker a dirty look, she pushed herself back into her chair, trying to remain invisible.

Amid all the interested muttering and whispering, there were some disbelieving looks. Nobody seemed to believe him.

"She's here," Stone continued, glancing down at his foot, where the hand still gripped. "To tell us a - a story."

Shane was shaking her head now, anger and fear bubbling in her gut. A story? Did The Joker expect her to get up on stage and tell them a bedtime story?

"Come up here, Shane," Stone said now, looking directly at her. "Please," he added, his voice cracking.

"Put this on," The Joker said quietly, pushing an ear phone at her. She shoved it into her ear nervously. A wire trailed from the end, leading into his hands. He clipped a smaller version of his black box onto her belt loop. "Now, go!"

Stumbling slightly, she stood up and walked over to the stage. There were no stairs visible, so she hoisted herself up over the edge and scrambled quickly to her feet. Frightened murmurs erupted all throughout the rows of seats, temporarily drowning out the music that still played softly in the background. The spotlight shifted jerkily onto her, and she shielded her eyes.

"Walk to center stage," said a voice in her ear. She jumped - it was The Joker's.

She did so, slowly, approaching Stone with great caution. When she was finally standing next to him, Stone said, "If you would all - if you would please be quiet, so Shane can tell - tell her story."

He performed a hurried bow, and dropped below stage and out of sight.

Shane was left on stage alone, staring out at the perplexed faces, rotating on the spot.

"Tell them your name." The Joker said.

Clearing her throat nervously, Shane picked at her sleeve and said, "My n-name is Shane F-Fatello," she stuttered, tripping over her own words.

"Your age."

"I'm ... I'm sixteen years old."

"Parents' names."

"My ... my mother's name is Dana Fatello. Er, maiden name Potts. And ... and my Dad's ... name ..." She faltered at the thought of her father, but plowed on. "His name is Jessie Fatello."

Many people burst into whispered conversation at this. They were inevitably talking about her father, a very successful and famed lawyer, who had probably won them all undeserved money at some point.

"Ignore them. Tell them who you're with."

She hesitated.

"With me, Princess. Tell them."

"I'm ... " she cleared her throat again, her feet shifting. "I'm here with ... the ... here with The Joker."

Mocking laughter reached her ears. Clearly, they all thought she was a lunatic. The Joker! He wasn't real! Ridiculous.

"I am!" she said defiantly, forgetting to wait for a prompt from The Joker. "You think I did this -" She raised her chin to display the scar to the audience, "- to myself?"

Some of their smiles faltered, but teasing smirks remained.

"They'll listen to you now," His voice was happy, low, and throaty. "The clowns. They'll do what you say. Make us proud, Princess."

Far from caring about whether or not she made The Joker proud, Shane was eager to show these pompous fools just who they were dealing with. "And do you think," she went on, her voice growing louder with every syllable. "That all of these men are here under my orders?" She threw her arms wide, circling slowly. As her gaze fell on different sections of the audience, black-clad men go to their feet, armed to the teeth with knives and very menacing looking guns.

All traces of happy resentment were gone from the audience. Instead, women with talon-like fingernails gripped the ironed sleeves of their husbands, and the men gaped at the nearest gunman, terrified.

Shane grinned to herself.

"Believe me now?"

Fearful silence.

"Do you?" she demanded, glaring at them all.

A chorus of, "Yes! Oh, dear Lord, yes!" rang through the hall.

Cackling erupted, gritty and broken, in her ear. "Oh, good, Princess! Excellent! Now ... now tell them what you're going to do." A short pause. "With Mr. Stone Bruner. If they don't spread the word."

An answer sprang to mind. An answer she knew The Joker wanted her to discover, a conclusion he'd been trying to plant in her mind.

"If you don't tell everybody you know who I am, and who I'm with, Stone Bruner will die. Along with his family."

Feeling a sick exhilaration rush through her veins at the sight of all these horrified people, at planting this fear in their hearts, Shane grinned manically. She felt oddly out-of-body, as though it wasn't really her who was talking to these people, but that she was standing aside watching it all happen. It was the same feeling she'd had at the movies so long ago.

The audience didn't seem to think the death of Stone Bruner and his family a very heavy price to pay, however, so Shane went on without any further instruction.

"Not good enough for you?" she said quietly, her smile turning into an ugly grimace. "Do you people think the loss of somebody you don't know is a small price to pay? Do you want that on your conscience? Death? Death? I don't think so." Seeing the slightly skeptical look on their faces, she was inspired to go on, "And, also, if you don't call everybody you know right now and tell them, I'll kill all of you."

Their faces all flushed. They knew what she was capable of, she could see. Her mass murder had not gone forgotten. Cell phones were suddenly beeping and ringing tunelessly all around her.

The Joker laughed in his front row seat.