Who Says That ***'s Not an Art?

The lights seemed to dim of their own accord as seconds ticked away until only one spotlight remained which was beaming a pale glow towards the trapeze area high above the stage floor. With a sudden explosion of pasty grey smoke and glitter the figure of the ‘Ace of Diamonds’ perched on the bar with her legs bent as if she was a realistic china doll with her right arm raised high above her head professionally while holding what looked like a whip. With a delicate push of her weight she swung to the centre of the stage before stepping off the trapeze.

“Good evening, and may I welcome you to the show,” Her voice began with a slight giggle as she stared at the Joker’s confusion which he was trying to conceal but failing terribly.

He raised an eyebrow as he surveyed her costume. She wore black platform boots which had been laced up until they met her knees and thighs which where the home of black fishnets. Her frame was covered by a leotard which was also black and off the shoulder along with golden buttons and rope detail. To finish her outfit off she wore a black tailcoat which had a golden trim and a miniature top hat which sat at an angle.

“Oh, believe me toots, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” The Joker taunted while learning in slightly forward.

“On with the show then, Jokie boy?” A sickly sweet voice replied which came from her lips – which she had currently curved into a derided smirk. She gestured her hand out for him to take.

His purple glove twisted around her slightly scarred hand as he used it as a steady weight to pull himself up and onto the stage. As soon as he gained balance she wrapped her arm around his neck and stood on her tiptoes so she could place her head on his shoulder.

“You know, if I was sane I'd hand you in, lucky for you a totally out of it,” She whispered in his ear before she let out a modest chortle.

Before he could move or even retort she forced her platform into the back of his knee causing him to groan before slumping in her grasp slightly. She threw him onto the ground before kicking repeatedly. She then kicked his stomach so he was lying on stomach with her boot pressed on his back. Her hand slipped into her tailcoat’s pocket as she pulled out a gun.

“Buh-bye Sir. Jokesalot. I don’t think this will be the end,” She giggled as she aimed her shot to the side of his painted face.

With a loud bang the Joker squeezed his eyes tight; only to feel the weight leave his back. As he rolled over and his greasy hair clung to his face he noticed more wisps of smoke had formed where the figure of Ace once stood.

“She’s a total mentalist, I like that, she’s definitely right about this not being the end,” Chuckled the Joker as he stared at the slightly rotten fabric roof, not bothering to make an effort to stand up.