Sequel: Death's a Joke. ›
Who Says That ***'s Not an Art?
Severely Injured Stick Men.
The Joker took a sharp intake of breath as Ace dabbed the cotton bud which had an antiseptic liquid on. Without his usual mask of makeup he suddenly felt very vulnerable. As she touched his fresh cuts lightly he squirmed, trying to escape from her grip as she pinned him to the seat.
“Would you stop moving for five minutes?” Ace mumbled as she finished the stitches for a particularly deep cut.
“Alright then, I’ll just sit quietly as you sew my face back on then,” Snarled the Joker, angered by having someone so close to his scars and wasn’t scared, he was staring down and picking at a loose thread on his blood stained shirt.
She let out a small chuckle which caused the Joker to avert his gaze onto her face, her eyes sparkled as her slightly chapped lips curved into a smile, he stared at her scars in a type of trance. He was abruptly taken out of it as he felt her lips brush softly against his, barely even touching them. The Joker took her lips with a swift moment with a deep kiss, sliding his arm around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They broke apart as if they where controlled by two repelling magnets, glaring at each other once they had come to their senses and realised who the other person was.
“I’ve had enough of you, princess of Gotham criminals,” Sneered the Joker to her as she lay on the floor breathing deeply, her hair messed from where she pushed herself away.
“That’s queen to you,” Muttered Ace with an arrogant smirk, as the Joker stood up suddenly, advancing towards her.
He gripped her by her neck, his grip tightening as he dragged her across the room, lifting her up and forcing her fragile bones into the bricked wall. The Joker let go so she slumped to the ground, he gripped her bony wrist and dragged her to his room. He dropped her onto the moth eaten mattress, tugging his shirt off so the buttons where flung across the room before rolling it into a ball and placing it under her head. As he locked the door, knowing she couldn’t escape as there was no windows he mentally cursed himself for what he had just done.
He sat slumped by the electric fire, his eyes fluttered repeatedly as he tried to stay conscious. The floor was made from a sea of beer bottles and odd energy cans. He scribbled odd notes with drawings of severely injured stick men dressed as bats. He let out a frustrated groan before trying to stand. He swerved a few times before stumbling to the ground, letting out a grunt of pain as a smashed bottle collided with his leg’s flesh.
The Joker gripped his head in throbbing agony as he sat up, the sun threateningly shot through the holey curtains into his eyes while the smell of stale sweat, alcohol and dried blood seemed to linger. He shuffled through the corridors, almost stepping on a couple of rats along the way before fumbling with the keys and door handle to his room half expecting her to be gone.
“Mornin’ toots,” Yawned the Joker at Ace’s motionless body before he scurried out again and into the view of a cracked mirror to shave.
“Would you stop moving for five minutes?” Ace mumbled as she finished the stitches for a particularly deep cut.
“Alright then, I’ll just sit quietly as you sew my face back on then,” Snarled the Joker, angered by having someone so close to his scars and wasn’t scared, he was staring down and picking at a loose thread on his blood stained shirt.
She let out a small chuckle which caused the Joker to avert his gaze onto her face, her eyes sparkled as her slightly chapped lips curved into a smile, he stared at her scars in a type of trance. He was abruptly taken out of it as he felt her lips brush softly against his, barely even touching them. The Joker took her lips with a swift moment with a deep kiss, sliding his arm around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They broke apart as if they where controlled by two repelling magnets, glaring at each other once they had come to their senses and realised who the other person was.
“I’ve had enough of you, princess of Gotham criminals,” Sneered the Joker to her as she lay on the floor breathing deeply, her hair messed from where she pushed herself away.
“That’s queen to you,” Muttered Ace with an arrogant smirk, as the Joker stood up suddenly, advancing towards her.
He gripped her by her neck, his grip tightening as he dragged her across the room, lifting her up and forcing her fragile bones into the bricked wall. The Joker let go so she slumped to the ground, he gripped her bony wrist and dragged her to his room. He dropped her onto the moth eaten mattress, tugging his shirt off so the buttons where flung across the room before rolling it into a ball and placing it under her head. As he locked the door, knowing she couldn’t escape as there was no windows he mentally cursed himself for what he had just done.
He sat slumped by the electric fire, his eyes fluttered repeatedly as he tried to stay conscious. The floor was made from a sea of beer bottles and odd energy cans. He scribbled odd notes with drawings of severely injured stick men dressed as bats. He let out a frustrated groan before trying to stand. He swerved a few times before stumbling to the ground, letting out a grunt of pain as a smashed bottle collided with his leg’s flesh.
The Joker gripped his head in throbbing agony as he sat up, the sun threateningly shot through the holey curtains into his eyes while the smell of stale sweat, alcohol and dried blood seemed to linger. He shuffled through the corridors, almost stepping on a couple of rats along the way before fumbling with the keys and door handle to his room half expecting her to be gone.
“Mornin’ toots,” Yawned the Joker at Ace’s motionless body before he scurried out again and into the view of a cracked mirror to shave.
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Sorry for the wait, I had a huge essay and speaking test. I'd just like to say a big thanks to all my readers and people who comment.Comments are much appreciated to help me see if you like where this story is going.