Big Bad Joke

"I'm sorry; I didn't know we would have this happen to us. I just wanted to eat, talk about my problems and hang out with my friends," I whined as we turned left into a red door, which was held open by another man in a clown mask, over his shoulder was a hand held machine gun strap, holding the gun in his hands while he watched us suspiciously.

"I wasn't blaming you," Laurel sighed her own way of an apology and looked over the man behind hers' shoulder, seeing as she was taller than his five foot four stature, she was five foot seven barefoot and today she decided to wear shoes with an inch thick bottom to them. "I was simply thinking out loud what I would say to you, if I was blaming you. But I'm not, I'm actually blaming Mikey."

"Hey!" Mikey's whole body tensed up as she looked at Laurel with wide eyes, her hazels going into a deep brown, and guilt took them there. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry," Montana looked over her shoulder; she was as tall as Laurel so she could easily see us over the man's shoulder. "We're glad to be with you."

"No, no you're not and I don't blame you," Mikey's voice had weakened into a small whisper as we entered the abandoned, yes abandoned warehouse which was empty and had rusted beams everywhere where they had fallen from the ceiling.

"Mikey," I looked over at her, seeing as I was only two inches taller, I could literally level with her. "We don't blame you; we'd rather be with you here than have you alone. Be happy and shut the hell up that we're going out in style."

"Style, I'm wearing sweats," Laurel scrunched up her nose and turned back around, after she felt the man jab her to a stop. "Stop fucking poking me before I stick that gun up your ass and call you a hubba bubba."

"Blow it up and it goes pop," Mikey giggled the punch line of the joke, but she stopped immediately once that familiar, peculiar, unforgettable laughter joined it. Joker's laugh, his nonstop giggle box that sounded psycho.

"Now that," Joker walked from the dark corner of the building, closer to us in long strides, his jacket was off so you could see his strangely new vest and pants, all natural colors of teal and darker forest green. His face paint was smeared like most times I had seen him, his hair as greasy as ever. Honestly a bath wouldn't hurt the boy, he really needed one. "That was funny, you're a funny girl there—what's you're name?"

"You're crazy," Montana grumbled in a low tone, staring at the Joker's face intensely. "Completely insane."

"Well," Joker said softly as he rubbed his chin. "A little off, I'll agree too. But insane is such a strong word don't you think?"

"No, its completely perfect for you," Montana growled now, earning more courage as she spoke to the killer, I shook my head, feeling insecure about her well being for acting so brave. When really, Joker didn't give a care in the world if you were brave, the weak ones were the ones he preyed upon, he liked those.

"Well aren't you the brave little soldier, you're name is Montana if I'm not correct, you buy from Maroni don't you doll?" he smiled brightly at Montana, his yellow teeth not so pearly and perfect.

"No," she glared at him, but stopped when I pushed through the bunch and pushed Montana behind me. "Riley!"

"Shut up Montana before you get yourself stabbed," I glared at her before I turned around and took a deep breath, looking Joker straight in the eyes. "Joker."

"Riley Wayne," he chuckled a good three seconds before he walked closer, grabbing hold of my hair, pulling me closer to him so he could smell it. "It's been what? An hour since our last meeting?"

"Ow," I whined as he pulled tighter, it already gave me a headache from how the roots refused to lose their battle against hair pulling Joker. "An hour and thirty minutes, must always wait thirty minutes after eating before laughing."

The sour note in my voice seemed to fly right over his head as he leaned down and stared me in the eyes, smiling as he did. Though he smelled like rotten trash, his breath not so minty fresh and his hands not so clean, though they were covered in gloves, my breath hitched in the back of my throat and my stomach cramped with excitement, anxiousness to be close was too much. It scared me; Uncle Bruce would be ashamed if he knew. "You're a brave one too, aren't you little Miss Rich Girl?"

"I try to be, Big Bad Joke," sarcasm taught by Laurel came handy in times like these; Joker found it comical instead of letting it anger him, which I hoped it had. But deep down, I liked to hear his laugh; I liked to see him get tickled because of how bad I tried to sound. I'm pathetic, it's sad.

"Hm," Joker stopped and looked away from my face to eye the rest of the room, Mikey to the very back, Laurel to the left, Montana to the right and the two henchmen in-between. "I guess, even though I never let anyone go. I could, make a deal with you."

"And the deal?" I questioned, my voice never weakening or strengthening because of my fear of letting him think me afraid, I could never be afraid of him though. Worried at best, but never afraid of him.

"I'll let you all go," he smiled at everyone as he waved his index finger around, pointing at each girl from tallest to smallest as their faces brightened at the thought of living and breathing another day, another day to tell the tale of surviving the Joker himself. "But, I get to keep her."