Body Count

Shane, feeling slightly confused and dazed from the lingering feelings of shock and excitement from earlier on, meandered back to the store room where she spent so much of her time. All was quiet in the warehouse once again, the majority of the goons out on a bank heist to 'train up' the new comer, Max Jones. The Joker had disappeared into his office seconds after his hand shook Max's, and Shane knew better than to bother them - even after the morning's revelations.

So she sat on her old pile of sheets - she liked to think of them as hers, just to be able to say she had something of her own in this strange and gloomy place - and mulled over the possibilities and potential of this new and arrogant clown.

Arrogant was definitely the word for him. He walked out the doors as if he owned the place, his stride long and purposeful. His expression told everybody around him clearly who he thought was the most important one in the vicinity. Shane thought he could grow on her, though, because that's exactly what Dominic acted like back home.

She cringed, as if she had been physically struck. Thinking about Dominic hurt.

Forcing her mind hurriedly back to Max and his sudden appointment and acceptance into the ranks of dangerous criminal, she flopped onto her back and sighed. The Joker never ceased to surprise her.

She never thought, for one second, that Max would have left the building alive. Surely, she'd thought, he would've been shot in the head and thrown in a ditch. Maybe not in that order. But the boss had offered him a fair amount of money, and walked away without another word. Not a punch in the face to be seen.

Shane grinned. The catch in this sudden approval was simple to see, but much more difficult to pull off. "I need money, Max. If you can get it for me, you can keep a percentage of it." He had to get the money himself, first. And there was no way an amount of money that large would be easy to reach. The Joker, probably, would be able to get it - but he was a psychotic genius. This Max character wouldn't be able to get within a mile of the cash.

'So that's his plan,' Shane thought, raising her eyebrows and closing her eyes. 'He's going to get him caught robbing some bigwig in the city.'

The door burst open. Shane jumped up, shock jolting through her system. Her eyes were wide in the dark, trying to see the intruder.

"Oh, Princess, sleeping on the job?"

The Joker loped in, his jacket donned once more, his clothes dry and crisp. His hair was slicked to the sides as was his style, and his paint had been applied thickly, as if to prevent further exposure. All in all, he was in a much cleaner state than Shane was.

Having had no time to clean up or dry off, Shane was still slightly damp, her hair plastered to her forehead and neck. She shivered.

"Not sleeping, no," she said, scratching her throat. "Resting."

"Hm!" he said, raising his eyebrows at her. "Well, you're going to need to get your rest some other time. I wanted to talk to you." He stopped, and rocked back and forth from his tip-toes to his heels. "Well, you wanted to talk to me."

She blinked. "I did?"

He hummed his assent, his lips closed, his head nodding up and down. "Of course, Shane! But we were rudely interrupted by our friend Max. I'm sure ..." He took a step forward. "... we would have had ..." Another step. "... a very nice conversation..." Step. "... had he not shown and ruined all my ... my fun."

"Fun?" she said, wanting badly to step back away from him.

"You don't think we can have fun together?" He was much too close.

"That depends," she said, looking around the room for some sort of rescue to explode from the walls and save her. "What kind of fun do you mean?"

He grinned. "I know what you're thinking. Not that. Of course not, Shaney, don't worry. Not that."

She couldn't help but sigh with relief, her shoulders slumping and her posture relaxing. "What kind of fun, then?" she repeated.

He started glancing around the room absentmindedly, his hand - gloved now - on his chin in thought. "Maybe not fun ..." he said, his voice low. "Maybe just ... a talk. A nice long talk."

He kicked out with his foot suddenly, backwards, so it hit the door - which slammed shut. They were thrown into complete darkness. Taken by surprise, Shane stepped to her side and tripped over a clump of sheets. She fell to the side, where her head came in sickening contact with the concrete wall with a crack.

"OW!" she shouted, clutching her head and writhing on the ground. Stars popped into her vision, blinding her in the murky darkness. Her eyes watered.

"Oh, come on!" she heard The Joker exclaim. Two steps were taken, and the pile of sheets depressed slightly where he knelt next to her. "Two seconds without light ... useless ..." His hands grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked her into a sitting position. He spun her around roughly to face him. Her foot came in contact with something hard and made of plastic. It rattled strangely.

"What was that?" she said drunkenly, her speech slurred.

"What?" She heard the sound of the plastic something being lifted off of the ground, and felt it brush up against her knee as he set it down. "This?"

"I guess so."

"Nothing. Now talk to me."

His abrupt command caught her off guard, and she started speaking out of sheer confusion.

"Why did you take Max?" The words were out of her mouth before her brain realized what she was supposed to do. She bit her lip.

A brief silence. "You need a better influence. Next question."

Confused and not exactly satisfied with the answer, she said, "Does what you do ... bother you?" She knew the inquiry was ridiculous, that she was speaking to a man well known for her lack of empathy and the glee he took in homicide, but she thought he'd get the underlying meaning.

She heard him lick his lips. "Killing ... never bothered me ... it makes a mess. But that's fine. Killing is my drug, Shaney. I can't go long without hearing somebody scream. But ... killing ... you know I can't explain that, Princess. Unless ..."

Her heart sped up infinitesimally.

She was suddenly pulled forward, her right shoulder jammed against his chest, her face level with his neck. His fingers pulled at her hair, tangling into it, tugging in what she thought might have been a violently affectionate way.

"You didn't mean my job."

She shook her head.

"To you?" he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and subdued.

She nodded.

She felt his nose brush against the top of her head. "Of course that bothers me, Princess. I may be a ... a killer ... but I have feelings. Mostly just the two feelings."

She raised her eyebrows. "Which two are those?"

"Well, anger," he said, as if stating that one plus one was two. "And that ... other ..." His arms were raised, his hands making a choking gesture in the air before her slowly adjusting eyes. "That other one."

She grinned. "Sort of cold? Right in your gut? Well, everywhere after a while ..."

"That's the one," he said, his voice high in shock. "I don't like it."

"I get that," she said, feeling the telltale ice rush up her spine at the thought. "A lot."

He squirmed, and she had the fleeting impression he was trying to fight off the same sensation that was creeping up her neck. "So do I." His lips and nose were still resting on top of her head.

After a moment of silence, during which Shane tried to get her eyes to adjust properly to the darkness - succeeding to an extent - The Joker spoke.

"Next question, Princess."

She thought for a moment. "You enjoy killing, right?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

She grinned. "No, I think that's just you."

"And you."

She nodded. Another question came to mind. "Do you really believe whatever doesn't kill you makes you ... stranger?"

"Well ... of course. Take you. For example. Running across highways ... escaping jail ... murdering theaters full of people ... living with me. You could have been dead months ago. Are you who you were before? Are you one of them anymore?"

She laughed at this. It sounded absurd to her that she could be a normal citizen. "Of course not." Something he said made her jump a little. "How long have I been out of jail?"

He hummed while he thought, rocking form side to side. "Well ... a month in the forest ... two and a half months here, I think ..."

Three and a half months. It had been three and a half months since she'd seen her mother, her father, her friends. That put her somewhere in the middle of October.

Shaking off the feeling of surprise and grief, she said, "My mom wouldn't like you."

She furrowed her brow. Her statement confused even her.

"Oh, what's one less fan?" he said playfully. She smiled. "Any more questions?"

She shrugged. "Well ... how are you?"

He laughed his trademark maniacal laugh. She shook with his mirth.

"I've been better. But not much," he added, saying the last three words quietly into her ear. "I found a song, Shane. One that you might like."

The plastic something was suddenly on her lap, and his hands were fiddling with it. Finally, with a metallic screech, music started to play from it.

She laughed happily. "You found a Hedley disc?"

"Found is one word for it."

The song was Bones Shatter by Hedley, and to Shane, it fit the moment comically well. She muttered some of the lyrics to herself.

"If it doesn't kill you, it's sure to leave a horrible scar ..."

"Horrible?" That was The Joker.

"So what's another Stan who's not a fan a million miles away, and what's he gonna do to me that I haven't already seen?"

"Not much."

"I've been better, seen a brighter side of life ..."

"You can say that again."

"We'll never stop ..."

"Never."

"You were everything to me ..."

His arms tightened around her shoulders. "Everything."