To the Point of Obsession

We stared at each other for a minute, then he made to stand up, and I snapped out of my trance and pulled the gun from its usual place in my skirt. "Take one step and I blow your balls off," I said, unusually calm.

He held up his hands in surrender, a real smile on his painted face. "I take it you received the notes?" he asked, leaving on the table, my gun still pointed at him.

I didn't say anything.

"And you are Dahlia, correct?"

"No, I'm the fucking tooth fairy," I said, glaring at him.

"Well, Dahlia, I have something to propose to you."

"You already told me," I snapped, looking at him. "Get on with it."

He smirked and said, "You're one of the best killers in Gotham City, right? And, I don't like to brag-" I scoffed. "-But I'm the best of the best. Why not bring to good things together, and make something great?"

"Bullshit."

He made a 'tsk-tsk' noise and took a step forward. I raised the gun forcing him back. "Wait, dollface. You know, I can easily take you down with nothing but my own two hands. If you want to keep that pretty face of yours, I'd put down the gun."

"Okay, but it's staying in my sight." I walked to the couch and sat down, motioning to sit on the opposite one. I put the gun on the coffee table. "So, you want me to be your sidekick?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, darling." He took a sip of the beer he took from my fridge. "A partner."

"Which is another name for sidekick… And don't drink my beer."

"Okay," he said, placing the beer on the table. "So, imagine this, the killer that slits people's mouths open works with the guy who has scars from when he got his mouth slit open, working together."

I sighed, leaning back in the chair. He was getting this all wrong, but I'd let him finish.

"Think of the chaos it would cause… Your planning and skill, my men. I'm offering you a place to stay, and money."

"Money? Can't you see? I've got more than enough. Just tonight I made a million dollars, and then picked up five hundred cash and at least ten full credit cards."

He stared at me, thinking. "Well, you're unhappy with it. No one to share it with, do you?"

"Hah, so you want me to spend time with you now? I like how I am, now, thanks."

"No, I'm just thinking," he said, "We're the ultimate match for Batman." He smiled when I grimaced at the name. "We could kill him," he said, standing up. "Easily. You pull a little trick like you did on that prostitute you played with last month, I mess with his little bat head, we take control."

He looked at me expectantly. "What does that have to do with me?" I looked up at him, trying to find who he really was under the makeup. "Why am I so important to you?"

"Well, love," he said, smirking when I cringed at the word love, "You are the part of me I lost so long ago."

"What? I'm nothing like you! You are a coldblooded killer, with no reason at all. You don't plan anything, you just do something that looks like it could do you good. You wear a fucking mask all the time, you're just like Buffo the Clown! You're a monster."

"Oh, that hurts dollface." He smirked again. I was getting so annoyed with it, sometimes I wanted to cut it off. "But you and I are alike. In different ways." He shushed me by taking a step closer and producing a knife from his pocket and pointing it at me. "You plan everything, and keep planning until the crime is completed. You lock yourself up in that little room," he pointed at the room next to the bedroom, it was a darkroom. "And look at your little pictures, and think about everything. And you, you only kill people that deserve it. Like that prostitute that conned the mobster, or the single mother who killed her children to get her lover to take her in, or what about that lawyer you poisoned tonight? All of them had a nice little excuse for you." The Joker cackled. "You're naïve. You think everything could be good. I was the same way. I couldn't kill," he said, still giggling. "But now…" he walked to the bedroom door, grabbing a clown who was struggling to get away from the madman, "I can."

He took the knife and sliced the clown's throat.

I looked at the clown he dropped to the floor. "You're going to be cleaning that up, you know," I said, standing up and picking up his beer and pizza from the table. "I don't want my house maid to have a heart attack, she has a cute son."

"Because she didn't do anything?" He was right behind me.

"No, her son is a good fuck." I continued cleaning, the Joker trailing behind me.

"Oh, well, then why is it I never seemed to see him?" he smiled his twisted smile and tilted his head.

"I don't kn— I haven't seen him for two months." I looked at him, confused. Even after only seeing him for a few minutes, I didn't like the look on his face. He knew something I didn't.

"Go look at the clown," he whispered menacingly. I walked over to the clown, seeing his dead eyes under the mask. I looked back, and he glared. "Well, take off the mask!"

I looked back down and kneeled beside him, taking off the mask. I frowned when I saw the dead face of my housemaid's son.

"That's a reminder in case you ever decide to run." He sounded scarier than I ever heard anyone speak, and he grabbed my arms and pulled me up. "So, Dahlia, you are way too boring to be a serial killer. No cutesy mask, no funny little makeup disguise?" He dragged me to the hall. "Well, at least you got a fun name and signature move. Nice to know you still have some sanity, Dollface."