Body Count

A large purple lump was rising over Shane's left eye by the end of the following Friday - a week after she got her present of 'new clowns' - and her head throbbed with the pain of it. The Joker had told her to 'test drive' her new minions, by which he meant order them around until they seethed with suppressed anger and fear at the sight of her. Far from achieving commendable results, Shane had effectively driven William to tears by asking him what time it was, gotten punched in the face by Cliff, who was insulted that she'd make him do something so trivial as hand her a towel, and finally she'd had a shouting match with Stone over the state of her clothes and money she might possibly owe the bank she'd helped rob. The fight ended in Stone being knocked out cold by Cliff, who had been standing by and rolling his eyes in annoyance the whole time. Shane had thanked him distractedly, running her hands through her blindingly purple and green hair, forgetting she was supposed to be a tyrannical murderer to be feared and loathed.

Daemyn, Shane noticed, was never in the warehouse when she was. She'd been ordered to stay in the second warehouse, where Cliff and WIlliam were held. Stone was escorted over shortly after by The Joker, who she hadn't seen since that moment. A sinking sensation pulled at the pit of her stomach every time the door opened, and somebody other than Daemyn walked in. She had grown rather fond of his strangely carefree attitude, and the emerald smile of his mask. Shane suspected that The Joker had started sending him out on bank robberies or shop hold-ups now that he was fairly healthy again. This thought did not comfort her in the least.

Other than Shane, who was growing more and more frustrated with her pointless task, and the three unwilling men she was supposed to be bossing about, only Odie was there to keep anybody company. He never seemed eager to stay long, but The Joker was apparently sending him over constantly to 'check up on her'. Whenever he waltzed through the doors, Shane's determination redoubled, and her shouting grew louder and stronger. Despite this, Odie always found a reason to scoff at her ability. He'd point out that Cliff never listened, or William was clearly too scared to listen. One thing he loved to point out was that, whenever Shane gave Stone an order, he'd counter it with another order of his own. By the time Odie strolled back out of the warehouse, Shane was red with embarrassment and anger.

Friday night, after endless hours of barking orders and bellowing at misbehavior, Shane was slumped against the wall, not speaking. Her eyes had a glazed look about them, as if she was staring right through the air and into something twice as uninteresting. Stone was leaning up against the opposite wall, his lips twitching as though he'd like very badly to say something. The scar on his right forearm, from when Shane had lost her temper with him two days ago, had apparently succeeded in silencing him for the time being. Cliff was lying face up on the concrete floor, in the very center of the room, glaring at the ceiling and favoring his index fingers - they had been pulling triggers all day, trying to catch the scarce wild life that passed through the area. William was whimpering in a far corner, away from them all, his dark blue eyes always staring right at Shane. His lip was bleeding lightly.

"Are we done for the day, boss?" Cliff said, scoffing at the last word.

"Yeah," she said drunkenly, too tired to rise to his bait. "I suppose so."

"Ahh, boss?"

Shane looked over at Stone, who had said the word sincerely, and raised her eyebrows. She secretly liked him the best - her liking having returned when he stopped Cliff shooting her a few days ago - and he was the one who she spoke to the most civilly. He was looking at her hopefully, his arms crossed about his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Do we get food tonight?"

Shane smiled. Food had been an on-again-off-again event for the four of them, as they only got it when Odie decided not to eat what he was to deliver before he entered the room. Their stomachs all rumbled audibly as Stone asked.

"I don't know, Grumpy. It's late. I don't think Odie is going to bless us with his presence tonight."

They all snorted. Even though the men must have a simmering sense of dislike towards her, they had learned grudgingly to get along. Hating Odie was something they could all do openly.

"Boss, can I -?"

"No," Shane snapped, looking over at William. "For the last time, Dopey, you are not going to rearrange the sheets into a bed. I don't want The Joker to think I've trained you all up to be interior designers."

"Oh, fine," William said gloomily, staring at her continuously. "I still say this place is too messy for human habitation, though."

"I know you do," Shane said, yawning widely. "And I don't care. Either you sleep on them or you don't - it's as simple as that."

"But it's just a pile of dusty old rags! We hardly all fit on it together, and we wake up smelling worse, if that's possible!"

"It's very possible. I lived in a damned forest for weeks on end, you don't see me complaining about it. You try going almost a month without even a toothbrush."

William was silenced, visibly appalled at the idea of not having proper toiletries for that long.

Cliff spoke up from his position in the middle of the small, dimly lit room. "So, those two have got new nicknames. What am I? Sleepy? Jolly?"

Shane tried to bite back her grin. "You're Happy."

Cliff turned his head to glare at her, resentment shining out of his swirling gray eyes. "Very funny," he spat.

"I thought so."

"Well, you thought wrong!" Cliff rolled onto his side, facing away from her.

"Oh, moody, are we? Going through a bit of teenage angst, Cliffy-poo?"

Cliff rolled angrily into a sitting position and sat cross-legged in front of her. "Not as bad as the angst that killed - what was it? - seventy three people? And you're barely a year younger than me ... makes you wonder what kind of strength I'd have if I was pushed too far."

A challenge boiled in his words, sending sparks flying out of his eyes. "Be quiet, Happy, or I'll think you're trying to seduce me."

A vein twitched in Cliff's temple, and he fell silent. With an angry huff, he collapsed back onto the floor and closed his eyes.

Shane heard a nervous chuckle, and glanced up to see William grinning at her.

'At least somebody appreciates my jokes,' she thought, falling to the side and closing her eyes.

The door banged open.

Shane groaned. She was longing for sleep after such a long day. Opening her eyes reluctantly, she saw the hunched and loping figure of The Joker making its' way towards her.

"Hello, Princess," he said, stopping a foot from her and looking down politely. "Did I disturb your sleep?"

Remembering her new found resolution to be honest at all times, she said, "Yes. But it's fine, I know how to go without sleep."

He laughed. "Well, that's good! Because I have your first assignment all ready for you!"

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Sleep was determined to overtake her, but she wouldn't let it. "Assignment?"

"The first hostage you'll ever have!" He turned away from her, facing the door. "Bring him in!"

The door banged open once more, to reveal Daemyn and Odie dragging in a kicking and spluttering man. The brothers - though Odie wasn't aware of their kinship - had to fight hard to keep a hold on the frantic captive. Something about him picked at Shane's memory, and she got slowly to her feet, frowning.

"Yes, oh, yes! Do you see that?" he demanded of her goons, gesturing towards her confused expression. "She's remembering! She's figuring it out! You know him, don't you, Shane?" he said, more quietly this time. He slid towards her slowly, his hands clasped loosely in front of his chest, his head bent low to reach the level of hers. "Do you remember that horrible, nasty little man over there?"

And suddenly, she did. The gears in her head went roaring and clanking back into action at immense speed, sending bursts of fury and grief stabbing at her heart. She fell into a distant, unwanted memory.

Shane was walking down a wide street, lined on both sides with small shops and bakeries. The sun had just gone down over the distant buildings behind her, and a warm orange glow spread over the pavement. The smell of sugar, cinnamon, and apples drifted on a gentle breeze. It was summer, and Shane was completely content.

She was on her way home from daycare, where she'd just picked up her little brother. His hand was clasped trustingly in hers, and he bounced along beside her with an innocent smile plastered on his face.

'Shane, can we go to the ice cream parlor?' he begged, his blue eyes twinkling up into her brown ones. 'Not for a big sundae, just a little scoop of some mint chocolate chip?'

'Do you have money?' she said teasingly. 'Because you're paying.'

He giggled, skipping half a step ahead of her, pulled back by her restraining grip. 'Please, Shaney?' he said pleadingly.

She sighed. 'Oh, all right, but when you're my age, you owe me.'

'Okay!' he agreed. From the way his eyes glazed over and his speed doubled, she was quite sure he wasn't listening to a word she said.

He tugged her along the street, turning down a narrow side alley that would cut the distance to the ice cream shop in half. She jogged behind, grinning the whole time at her brother's wild innocence and happiness.

A man stepped into the mouth of the alley, blocking their way. He was staggering slightly, clearly drunk, and he held an indistinct object in one hand.

The two slowed uncertainly, both of his hands clutching fearfully at her own. 'Who's that man, Shaney?' he whispered.

'I don't know, Matt, but stay close to me ... okay?'

'Okay, Shaney.'

He remained glued to her hip all along the alley, where the man still swayed. The opening out into the empty street beyond was so narrow that he filled almost all of it. When they finally reached him, he didn't move.

'Excuse me,' said Shane shakily, pushing her brother behind her surreptitiously. 'Could we get through, please?'

'I don't think so,' the man said. There was no slur in his voice, and he was suddenly very steady on his feet. 'Not today.'

The object in his hand was suddenly pressed against Shane's temple. A gun. She gulped, sweat pouring down her face in buckets.

'Give me your money!' the man ordered, facing the ground. 'Now!'

Shane nodded fervently, reaching into her pocket for her wallet. She withdrew all of the money from it. 'Here -' she said, shoving it at the man's waiting hand. 'That's all of it!'

'What, the little one doesn't have an allowance?' he said roughly, pointing the gun at Matt instead.

'Don't you touch him!' Shane bellowed, shoving Matt behind her. Matt began to cry.

'Get out of the way!' The butt of the gun made sudden, blinding contact with her nose, and she crumpled against the alley wall. Blood gushing from her face, head pounding, heart racing, Shane stood up.

Matt was crying up against the opposite wall, a gun still pressed insistently upon his forehead. 'Gimme your money!' the man shouted.

Matt sobbed in response.

Shane, shaking slightly at the knees, lunged at the man with a roar of fury and alarm.

The man twitched, and his hands curled into fists. But he had not dropped the gun before he did so.

The trigger was squeezed, still pointing directly at Matt. The gun had been lowered to his heart, where the bullet crashed with a sickening BANG that made Shane's own heart stop.

The man ran for it, stumbling over Shane and into the street beyond. Shane made no move to go after him, but stared at Matt, who was lying on the ground. His blue eyes were wide open, staring unseeingly at her, his mouth agape. A bloody rose blossomed out of his chest and onto his white shirt.

'Matt,' she said brokenly, not believing it. She moved towards him and scooped him into her arms. 'Matt!' She shook him. 'Matt! WAKE UP! PLEASE, WAKE UP!' She screamed at her little brother's dead body, tears leaking from her eyes and splashing onto his pale cheeks. It looked like he was crying. 'MATT!'

Rage coursed through her veins as she stared at the man who killed her brother. The Joker stood at her side, and her clowns had all gotten to their feet uncertainly, but she was unaware of them.

"YOU!" she bellowed at him, stepping forward angrily. A purple sleeved arm restrained her. "YOU KILLED HIM! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"No, no, no," said The Joker, holding her back with some difficulty. "You're going to tie him up. Well, one of those three are going to," he waved his hand at the warehouse in general. "And you're going to watch him die. Watch, Shaney, watch him bleed like Matt bled."

"I WILL!" she screamed, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her scar stung, but she did not care. "I'LL WATCH! CLIFF!" she shouted suddenly, making Cliff jump. "GET A CHAIR! TIE HIM DOWN!"

The Joker was still holding onto her, both of his arms now wrapped around her from behind. She struggled to break free, always glaring at the hated piece of slime that had broken her family, her teeth bared in an ugly snarl.

Cliff brought in a wooden chair, obeying his orders without question for the first time. A length of rope was coiled around his arm.

Stone jumped into action to help Cliff and Odie force the man into the chair, binding him tightly by the wrists and ankles. A gag was shoved into his screaming mouth. Daemyn watched Shane intently.

"Now," said The Joker, never relinquishing his grip on her struggling body. "Pick one. To finish him off."

Her mind was buzzing with anger. She couldn't pick one; she wouldn't. She wanted to do it herself. The man gazed at her, terrified.

"I'LL DO IT!" she shouted. "LET ME! I'LL PROVE TO YOU - PROVE I CAN KILL -"

"I already know you can kill, Princess," he said roughly. His voice was hardly more than a whisper, but she caught every word, as he was whispering right into her ear. "I just want to know that you can give orders. Those two listen to you ... but what about the last one? Does he?"

Shane didn't spare a glance at William, but she knew that he wouldn't kill for her. Not just yet.

"Stone," she said quietly, her voice cracking in anger. "You do it, you kill -"

But it was William who was striding forward, his deep blue eyes blazing with a fury she'd never seen in them before, a knife ready in his hand. Where he'd gotten it, she didn't know, but she stared at him as he ripped the man's gag out and placed the knife to his throat.

"Did you hurt her?" he asked quietly, forcing the man's head around to face him with his free hand.

The man nodded once.

"Then I," he pressed the knife a little harder into his neck, "Am going to kill you."

A blood curdling scream ripped at Shane's eardrums, but she did not look away as the knife was plunged into the man's throat. Blood gushed forth from the fresh wound, spilling down into his rag of a shirt. But William was not done. He ripped the knife sideways out of his neck, pulling his throat out, tearing all the flesh and chords into pieces. Gore spilled to the ground with a grotesque splat.

Shane stared at William, who stared back. She was fiercely grateful to him, the anger that had surged through her system turning quickly into violent gratitude. Happiness that she hadn't known spilled through her chest, happiness at having just witnessed a brutal murder that she had ordered.

And murder made her very happy.