Body Count

Shane's entire body was trembling in anticipation of the penance she was about to receive at the eager hands of the crazed man standing mere inches before her. Every nerve tingled and buzzed hyper-actively, sending shivers through her weakened limbs, churning her blood into a crimson river of ice splintering through her sensitive veins. The room itself appeared to have taken on a heightened sense of reality, every color blindingly bright to her streaming eyes, every curve and edge to every shape distinct and obvious, as though her eyes were acutely aware of all things.

Beads of sweat budded into life on her searing skin, dripping down her forehead and neck. The cold that had cooled and refreshed her for the past few days seemed to have stopped at the door, prevented from entering that sacred of all places. A lump rose in her dry throat, and she struggled to swallow past it as her fate stepped ever closer.

"Princess," the man said, dragging out the word, scowling as if uttering those two short syllables caused him physical pain. "Oh, Princess, you've been very bad."

Shane thought she felt herself nod, but her vision never altered, and she found her neck to rigid with fear to move.

"You left me," The Joker continued, jabbing a finger at her chest. She winced at it made contact. "You, and your traitorous little friends. That was a very ... bad ... idea. You see, Shane, Scourge of the Downtown Area ... you belong to me. And you can't leave ... you can't leave," he said, strangling the air before him for effect. "Without my permission. And did I give you my permission?" When she did not respond, he snarled and grabbed her shoulder roughly, making the long-healed wound throb under the force. "Did I?"

"No," she said weakly, her lips quivering around the word. "No."

He shook his head wildly, wagging his finger back and forth while his grip on her collar bone tightened considerably. "No, no, no, no, I didn't. But you left ..." He paused, letting his tongue slide out and glide over his cracked and painted lips. "And now you'll learn what happens to scum who insult me."

His fist came out of nowhere, his gloves gone, the rough skin slick with whiskey. It caught her under the jaw, and she heard a sickening crack even as the pain exploded from her teeth and radiated throughout her skull. Her eyelids snapped shut, and a shower of blue and red stars erupted all over her vision. Before she had time to recover, or even stagger backward, the sharp leather edge of a boot dug its' way between her ribs. Her back snapped forward and she hunched over, gasping for breath. As her eyes fluttered back open, a hand gripped the back of her shirt and yanked her upright.

The Joker stood there, his yellow teeth bared in a hateful growl, his eyes shining with vigor and revenge. His hair, never brushed or tidy, was more wild and in a worse disarray than Shane had ever seen it. The lank green locks stuck up in all directions, hanging partially over his sunken black eyes, giving him the appearance of a madman.

All of this she observed in the split second before his free hand curled into a savage fist and flattened her nose against her face.

A shriek of pain tore from her throat, scratching it raw, and her lungs emptied themselves twice of incoherent screams as a hand pressed cruelly on the shattered bones. A series of nauseating crunches sent wave after wave of sickness roiling into her gut with pain, and her stomach threatened to empty itself. But she clamped her mouth shut and held it back, for she knew being ill on The Joker would do nothing to appease his mood.

Fortunately, he soon grew bored of torturing her over her broken nose. Unfortunately, he became quite enthralled with grabbing her hair, knotting his fingers into it, before banging her head off of every nearby flat surface he could find. Her forehead narrowly missed the corner of the bar twice, and both times a blinding white light flashed before her tear-flooded eyes as she thought she looked upon the end of her life, and Death's open arms.

She was not so lucky.

Blow after blow landed hard upon her back, sending her onto all fours, and then onto her stomach. Fists were replaced with feet, feet with glass bottles, some full of alcohol and some not. Rather than hiding her pain, she screamed with the agony that assailed her, hoping it would somehow shorten the abuse.

Once again, she was snatched upwards from her kneeling position, and due to the fact that this time she had been pulled up by the lower back of her shirt, she was bent over and forced to gulp in smaller and smaller amounts of air. Before she could get two breaths in, though, a knee rose up and struck her in the gut. She choked as all the oxygen left her already deflated lungs. The knee came up once, twice, thrice, before she was hurled at a wall. She felt a bruise blossom instantly on her shoulder, and the wood groaned under her weight. Seizing the opportunity, she heaved and drew great mouthfuls of air in. Only when the room stopped spinning did she realize she had been dizzy for lack of oxygen.

Soon thereafter, Shane lost track of time. One pummel followed another, one wallop after another, for what felt like an eternity. The one time she managed to look up at the clock, she was shocked and dismayed to see that her lifetime of suffering had lasted only an hour.

But there was one advantage to this anguish: after enduring so much hate and resentment physically, her body started to reject the pain. A knuckle to the eye produced only a throb of discomfort, although she could feel hot blood streaming down her cheek. A glass bottle was driven across the soft skin of her scarred cheek, and the wound opened anew, only to send forth a small sting. Her vision blurred as blood poured from her various gashes and abrasions. Her clothes were no longer recognizably colored; every scrap of material on her body was a different shade of ruby red.

Finally, finally, The Joker stepped away from her and wiped his hands absentmindedly on his white shirt, staining it with Shane's fresh spilled blood. She looked up at him fearfully from her position on the ground, where she cowered in his shadow.

"Shane," The Joker said, his expression unwavering. "You insulted me. You disobeyed me. And for that, I won't tolerate you any longer."

She blinked at him, and as she did, a droplet of blood oozed out of her eye and down into another gash on her cheek. "Tolerate?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," he said slowly, his face falling into a mask of supreme calm. "Tolerate. No more. No, Princess, Shane, Shane!" She flinched. "After everything I've done for you, you left me. I'm kicking you out."

Shane's world spiraled out of control. Everything, save for The Joker looming over her, plunged into an inky blackness her eyes couldn't penetrate. 'He's throwing me out,' she thought desperately. 'He can't!'

"Get out," The Joker said, contradicting her thoughts as he raised a hand to point at the door. He looked down at her, a perilous finality in his voice, and she sobbed. "Now. And Princess?" He paused. "Don't come ba -"

At that moment, an explosion of sound cut him off. Sirens were suddenly wailing at full force outside, and the sound of rubber tires squealing sent a jolt of panic down Shane's spine. Metallic sounds of doors banging open could be heard, and shouted commands that she couldn't distinguish were uttered.

The Joker looked down at Shane, the hate still evident in his eyes, and she shook her head slowly. They both spoke at the same time, The Joker angrily, Shane fearfully.

"Cops!"