We stood on the bow of the yacht, watching the sun fade into water that surrounded us. The wind blew softly over the sea as it reflected a pinkish gray sky. I stared off into the distance as he held my waist tightly and I could feel his eyes on me. Without even looking, I can tell you that his cinnamon eyes were probably solemn and sad as we neared our destination. And it was because of me. It was because I was leaving. But he wasn’t the first or last.
Sterling was a fine man—and a wealthy one, too; ambitious, smart, funny. And as much as he loved the United States for all the business it gave him, he hated it; the publicity, the crowds, the constant violation of privacy. After thirty years of sweat and blood, he had decided to live in Italy. And that’s where he’s been for the past five years or so. I’ve been here for about a year, maybe two.
We met by chance, and I feel that it is always by chance that such matters occur, at the airport. And no it wasn’t one of those “I’ll leave you my number, let’s get together” movie bits, where one of us ends up following the other. It was average at best. We were both flying to Rome; I, on vacation, him, back home. Our seats ended being next to each other and that’s roughly how it started.
He knew I was young. Young enough to even be his daughter, but that didn’t seem to sway him. Not once did we mention age. That was how I separated keepers from leavers. And Sterling was certainly a keeper. After that, it was all about time.
I knew I didn’t love him. And I knew that he could learn to love me. And I don’t feel I realised it too late, but rather at the wrong time. We were mid making love. He was a fit man, given age and all. He really did spend time exercising. But sometimes, and understandably so, he’d get tired. He was jetlagged and sleepless and make no mistake; I’m not trying to give excuses or justify my thoughts. I honestly don’t know why it hit me then, but I can say it wasn’t due to performance. I never much cared about sex in that way. I don’t find it emotional and I don’t find it necessary. It’s more a bonus if anything. But as his breaths began to speed up and his heart began to beat faster, it was then that I had realised I couldn’t love him. And at the time I couldn’t understand why. It’s safe to say I didn’t try to.
I started to walk down the side of the yacht slowly, feeling his grip loosen and hearing the soft sounds of my feet against the wood. I passed the bedroom where we had made love so frequently these last few weeks. Maybe he knew I was going to leave and wanted more of me. Maybe he thought that he could make me stay if he tried harder. But the truth is that I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have. I wish I hadn’t at all. And I know he’ll hate me for some time. Wish the worst upon me, maybe. My only wish is that somewhere down the road, he realises our time was something to cherish and remember, something that makes him smile, something that he keeps as a warm memory.
I said I knew I didn’t love him and I didn’t try to understand at the time, but when I did, even then I couldn’t figure it out. The first thing my mind would turn to, I’d always tune out because it was the same thing every time.
It never happened in Italy. That’s the important part. Whenever I’d accompany him to the States—that was when it would happen. When Sterling and I would walk around the city any city, the glares were almost instantaneous, the disgust and astonishment, that a man could kiss a woman that was twenty years his junior. But like I said, he wasn’t the first and he won’t be the last.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The True Ace (of Knaves) --A Joker Tale.
Part One: First Dose
My first encounter with him was brief. It was typical and ordinary, yet classic and tasteful, like a little black dress draped across a curvy vixen. It didn’t seem important at all, that night, and maybe it still isn’t. I can only tell you what I feel, and keep in mind that isn’t always fact. But then again, what is?
I was in town on business—well, sort of. I needed something from a friend. To be honest I can’t recall exactly what it was, but that’s not the point. Bruce, and I call him that mainly because I don’t like to call him his other name, was finishing up with him, taking him away to Arkham to put him and his obsessive “girlfriend” away. At that point, I didn’t know much about her, or the relationship, or him really. So at that point, I couldn’t understand why she was so passive and with no question simply allowed him to do as he pleased, even if that meant harming her which it did on many occasions. He was controlling, influential, omnipotent—a one man show. Those were the only excuses I could find for her, and for me, to put my machine mind to rest.
Of course, these were things that I had only heard of, and never actually witnessed until that night…sort of. By “sort of” I mean that I hadn’t seen him do anything to her or to anyone because by the time I had arrived, Brucey already had them…apprehended. It was quite a spectacle, seems they both were up to their classic ways. Him with the henchmen and senseless yet humourous quips, Bruce with his upside down tie-ups, leaving them to sway in the wind for a bit before he took them in himself. I suppose he was one of those personal calls, the ones that were better done firsthand. I could only make assumptions, really. But I’ll admit that I did peek a bit into B, and his mind had a very different story to tell. Not his own story; that was an area even I was afraid to touch upon. Every time I’d get close to it, I’d get a surge of pain to my temples, the kind you get when you stick a steel needle into a plug socket. He felt that the countless men with painted faces and pistols, gal at his right hand, old jokes exposed down his sleeve, that they were a diversion, that he had a bigger plan as he always had. Again, this was all new to me; could very well be the wild imagination of an amnestic, outlandish, android type.
I followed as Bruce dragged in the poor thing. He seemed so thin, so pallid, so lanky. It was quite hard to believe that this man could be such a powerful criminal; a master of his craft, the Clown King of Crime, if you will. It made him all the more alluring. I helped with the girl, holding her handcuffed hands, as Bruce held his, walking through the cracking powdered white halls that reeked of that nauseating hospital smell. I never much liked asylums…Anyway, at one point, he fell down to his knees. I knew it was purposely done; the waves in his mind easily showed it, but the others couldn’t tell as was proven when she shrieked in fear—actual fear, for his safety. He twisted his neck to look back at me, emerald eyes glittering in the faint lights, and then he did something so pure, so true, so...furtive. He smiled.
Part Two: The Pocket Aces
My second encounter with him was less brief. In fact, it couldn’t have been more lengthy, or strange for that matter. But it was when I had the opportunity to delve into the chambers of Gotham’s, and possibly the world’s, finest criminal mastermind—somewhat. As troubling a case as Bruce was, Joker was worse. So what I found in him was not memory, but personality or more appropriately, personalities. But I’ll get into that bit later.
I was in the mansion that I had built solely for diversion purposes; living a double life isn’t always exciting and dangerous, it’s rather annoying at times. I have the lchip in me to blame for that, but the one thing that is “good” about it, is that whenever my body feels threatened, it automatically puts my suit on. I’m not sure if Starr had worked that in purposely or if it recognizes that itself; either way, it was a blessing in disguise. I felt the suit attaching to my body, as the small arms slunk around my neck and mouth, and my last thought was, and I kid you not, how in hell did I not hear them coming?
______
The room was dimly lit when I awoke, feeling a tightness on my wrists and ankles. I was tied to a chair and as groggy as I felt, I could feel the lchip was still in place, as was my suit, so it would take all of 0.6 seconds to escape.
“Awake, finally.” I turned to see who was speaking, but because of the lighting and his positioning, his because it was a male voice, I couldn’t tell. All I could see was a pair of white and black dress shoes, pinstriped purple pants and arm sleeves, and a brush of jade hair. No face, and I knew it was him. And we were both tied up. All that was missing was why.
“Now we can both try to think of a way to get out.” His crimson lips stretched from ear to ear, eyes green and beaming like a cat’s eyes in a dark alley as he dragged the chair into the light. I didn’t answer.
“Oh, toots, not talking to me isn’t going to get you out of this. Our best bet is to work together.”
Still no answer.
“Look, I know you’re a friend of the Bat, but I’m willing to overlook that little detail so that we could get out of here!”
“Who did this?”
“Hu-ooh, that’s the funny part. At least, it’s funny for now…until I get my hands on her.”
That was probably the most direct answer I’d get out of him. So I peeked.
“It was…your girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend...that girl’s got a bullet waiting for her when I get out of here. Say, how did you say you knew that?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, I like you,” he giggled, “I like you a lot. In fact, I feel comfortable around you. I haven’t felt like this about anyone since…well, since Harley changed.”
One scan showed that he was lying. Another showed that he was telling the truth. I stayed tied up, figuring he’d talk more if he didn’t know I could escape so easily. I listened.
“She changed?”
“Oh, yes. I mean look at me! Chained and tied like a poor defenseless animal…she abuses me, you know; hides it so well under that false lovey attitude toward me. Clever one, she is…she’s got you all, even the Bat, fooled.”
He began to sob, and it all looked so real, to the point that if I couldn’t read his body language and mind, I would’ve believed him. But I played along, all the while figuring that he might slip a little truth into there. That was my first mistake.
His words were vivid and painted with perfection, that not even a best-selling author could top his impromptu story. I was genuinely impressed. And even though his mind said that he was speaking the truth, I knew it was all a lie. I fancied myself his new match to beat. True, his obsession and long history with Bruce proved stronger, but I figured my abilities could work better. Second mistake.
As I tried to see the memories in his mind, in between the words that he spoke, I felt that familiar twist of pain; the one I get when I try with Bruce, the electric and sockets…it was very hard to see much of anything. But I kept with it. The only constant “memory” was that of a bat, and a fleeting one of red and black and a painted face. I wanted more, though, I wanted to know. He was the first person that I couldn’t read, that I couldn’t figure out. Third mistake.
“And so, the last memory I have of her is knocking me out cold with her hammer.”
“Sweetheart, you’re quite the storyteller.” I broke out of the chair and walked over to him, stroking his cheek lightly. “But you’re going to have to tell the stories to someone that can’t tell when you’re lying.”
He arched an eyebrow and smiled at me. “So you’re not going to let me free?”
“No.”
“But that’s not fair! What happened to honour among captives?! Have you no heart?!” He could tell I was unimpressed. But he continued and hung his head low “…I only told you that story because I was afraid to tell you the truth…”
Choosing to stay after that was the last mistake I made…I stopped counting from then on. Telling myself that I knew what I was doing, knew that he was using me, was the only thing I had that set me apart from Harley. Or at least I thought it was. I gave him a questioning glance, telling him to continue and of course, since it was the difference between escaping and staying, he did.
“The truth is I can’t remember much of anything. And honestly, I don’t want to anymore. What’s the point, really? Inventing history is far more exciting than recording it, don’t you think, sweets?”
“I can’t remember, either…”
“See, you and I are not very different, doll. We can create our own histories. Make them incredible, enchanting, hilarious even! However we want! What say you join me, hmm?”
Every time I try to remember my past, it comes back differently. That was the pocket ace. That was when he won the game. And that was when I realised how much I wanted him. The room didn’t have a door that we could see; I knew that he would need me to exit, so I untied him, but not before playing a trick of my own.
Controlling minds isn’t my favourite thing to do, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion, and that was a rare occurrence in itself; that I couldn’t help myself. And so I used him. Raw, skin to skin—I wanted to taste the poison that lived inside of him because to me it was more like a drug, and I wanted my fix. We were both apathetic souls, cold and emotionless, but for a moment I felt like we canceled each other out and something beautiful occurred. That was my pocket ace.
Part Three: If the Hat Fits…Take It
By the time it was over, I made sure he didn’t remember anything had happened. And right as we were about to escape, a door appeared at the north wall, Harley standing in its frame.
“Come on you two, he’s waitin’…”
“Harley, baby! What’s all this about? Is it because I threw out the kids? We can get ‘em back, no questions asked! Just stop this nonsense…” She put her face nearly two inches from his and gave him one of those “I’m not having it” looks. He smiled. “…I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” then in a smaller voice he said, “…maybe just torture and kill you.”
“Move along.” She said in a tone that didn’t seem like herself; even I could tell. But I couldn’t tell what was wrong with her, though it was obviously bothering Joker. Seems he doesn’t take too well to being ignored by the one person who…never ignores him.
“WHAT?! You dare defy me?! Why you little harlot…when I get my—“
I whispered to him, “Shush. Let’s find out what’s going on first…” He stopped mid sentence, and began a new act. Hanging his head low, he walked on along my side, as we were led into a room covered with naked mannequins, with only hats resting atop their plastic and bald heads.
“Good evening, Joker. Good evening, Myst.” A voice spoke smoothly, calmly, “A spot of tea, perhaps?”
Emerging from the shadows was a tiny man, dressed in green with a very large top hat and a card stuck in the brim of it. The look of rage and shock on Joker was as amusing as the man’s size. He was the one who had kidnapped us? I’m surely losing my touch.
“Allow me to introduce myself, as this would be our first acquaintance, Myst. My name is Jervis Tetch, better known as the Mad Hatter.”
Obsessive compulsive, childlike tendencies, obsessed with hats, mind control—he was an easy read.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mr. Tetch?” I answered, playing to his tune.
“How pleasantly you speak; makes your future look less bleak. Though, sadly I must state, you’ll not like your imminent fate.” The man spoke in rhymes…swell. Though he was speaking like that, he wasn’t what worried me. The elevated dopamine levels, rushing endorphins—Joker was going to do something, and someone wasn’t going to live. Stall, M, stall. Get him to talk about his plans…
“What is this fate you speak of, dear Mr. Tetch?”
“Jervis, to you darling. Your disposition almost makes me regret what I’ve planned for you.” He began to walk around, picking up a few hats looking them over, as it seemed he had done a hundred times prior, as we stood arms tied, being held by women dressed in strange leotards. “You see, I had learned of you and your abilities through a friend, yes, a “friend” and was completely impressed. The handling with minds you have, the control, the brilliance of it all, intrigued me so. Yes, indeed.” J loosened up, looking almost eager to hear my story, as told by the pixie hat man. “Once I realised that your potential was…untapped, I knew I had to have it.” Tetch then walked up to me, eyes beaming at me, like a child’s. “And that was when this wonderful plan was born in my brilliant mind!”
One thing I didn’t understand. “So what does Joker have to do with this?”
Tetch put on an aggravated face, as he walked up to J, the pale man staring down at him with such passionate loathing. “I had recruited the clown’s lady to fetch you for me, as she was easiest to manipulate, even before putting a device on her.” He shot a glance to the now blood boiling clown, “Think of it as revenge for when you stole my devices and used them on me!” “Anyway, when she returned, she not only had you, but the jester as well. Seems that even in with a mind control device, she cannot separate herself from him. Can’t see why, really… Regardless, I would’ve gotten rid of him, until another bright idea worked its way to me!”
“Oh, Jervis old boy, you’re not really my type, you know…HAHAHA.”
The pixie then kicked J’s leg, forcing him to fall over, “No, I figured who better to keep her busy than you? One story of yours alone takes a good hour, least it did in Arkham. I knew you’d keep her around long enough so that I could finish my newest invention. A most personal invention that not even you, clown man, could conjure up! Haha! It’s sitting right in my pocket and attaches to the neck. By the time we’re through, the power of you, my dear Myst, will also be the power of the Mad Hatter! So, ha! Ha! Ha!”
Almost foaming at the mouth, J scowled at Tetch, “You’re a lunatic, you know? They say I’m crazy?! Look at fancy fedora pixie man! HAHAHAHA. You honestly believe that you could two time me? And insult the intelligence of ol’ Grey Eyes here? HAHAHAHA. You’re a funnier lad than I recall, Jervie boy! HAHAHAHAHA.”
Tetch’s face twisted into a grimace, and his large and overbearing teeth rubbed against each other. “You all will never understand how my brilliant mind works!”
J whipped his head around, kicking the woman holding him and knocking her unconscious in an instant. I did the same, unfortunately; it was either that or have wonderland man take control of me with his device. I saw J run to the Mad Hatter and begin to beat him, as I fought off the rest of the henchwomen.
I thought I had them all down, or at least a moment before the next one got up; I didn’t want to use my powers carelessly. I looked to find him, and felt someone grab my neck. Instinctively, I flipped them over only to find that it was him…and that the Hatter’s device was now on me. I dropped down to the floor and felt the waves of the device try to latch onto me, only a few did; I could still control a good portion of my actions.
He put Tetch’s hat on and said, “You know what they say; if the hat fits…take it and wear it…and create chaos! See, sweets, our history will be fascinating, unleveled, nefarious! HAHAHAHAHAHA.”
Part Four: Tex, You Can’t Hold This One
The first thing he had me do was knock around the girlfriend or ex-girlfriend as he calls her now. He wanted me to punch her stomach repeatedly; something a lowly henchman could do, which made me wonder if he really knew the gravity of having this kind of control over me. But as I was quickly learning, even if his actions seem to come from nowhere, there’s always a reason behind what Joker does. He wanted her to cough up the blood, bleed out through her mouth so that he could authentically paint a smile similar to his own on her face…then I was supposed to kill her. She didn’t say a word, only a few painful cries here and there. She really did take anything he threw at her. I tried my best not to punch too hard. That was when I wondered if he had any real sense in him; I mean, he was going to kill her because she had “betrayed” him, while under a mind control device, much like the one he was using on me. I suppose to him there is no honour among thieves, or women. Or I could be playing into the widely accepted reasoning for his actions. What if, what if…he wasn’t killing her because she had betrayed him, but rather because he felt betrayed? Course, I could be talking a load of rubbish myself.
Anyway, he wanted her dead. And I felt sorry for her, but not the pity kind of sorry. The kind of sorry that you feel when you understand why someone would choose another’s wants over their own, no matter how ludicrous they are... like allowing someone to control your mind or something... If the lchip were any weaker, he would certainly have full control over me; one of the few moments in my life, and I do mean few, that I was thankful for Alexander Starr’s brilliance. But even that wouldn’t last long.
Much as her pain and suffering would’ve been over if I killed her, I knew I couldn’t. So I tried the hero thing.
“You know, Tetch only did to her what you’re doing to me.” His grin slid down to a playful and shocked expression. Was he ever an actor? He’s damn good.
“And that’s supposed to make me stop?” He giggled.
“Well she didn’t mean you any harm. I mean, she didn’t know what she was doing.” He walked up to me, eyes a fiery green shade and laughed.
“She almost got caught! You know the countless secrets about me he could’ve had her spill?! I don’t deal with anything less than the best, and you, my dear…you, are very bold. I can tell even ol’ Scarecrow would have trouble scaring you. I tell you what, I’ll let her live.” He bent down and threw a handkerchief at her. She looked at him with pained and defeated eyes. “But, I can’t leave her looking all shriveled like a fish out of water! No, what she needs—what you need Harley baby, is a good laugh.” Joker then squeezed the flower on his shirt and a green liquid sprayed onto her face. She started laughing almost instantly.
“Mysty dear, get me some of my boys here. We’ve got to go.”
So the hero thing worked…sort of. “What about her?”
“Leave her. I don’t have time for this. We’ve work to do!”
And so we left. A good part of me didn’t want to follow him and I probably could’ve broken free from the device then, had I tried hard enough. But I felt like I owed him…for what I had done when we were hostages. So I let him use me because I had used him.
_____
I laughed inside a bit when I saw his henchmen. The big, burly men had their faces painted to resemble Joker’s. I don’t know if it’s because he’s so very conceited or it just gives him a good laugh to see what lengths people would go to, to work for him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise that he’d kill you once you were useless to him. I’m going to say it’s a bit of both then. For a “disfigured” person, he was quite vain. I appreciated that confidence a bit more than I wanted to.
We wound up on the roof of an older building near the middle of the city. It was an abandoned party-favour factory.
“Alright boys, you’re going to get some of the stuff I stored down there and decorate the place. Sweets and I are going to go find us some guests…”
It was irritating how I could have the most inner thoughts of any person in a moment’s notice yet I couldn’t even peek to see what in hell J meant by “finding guests.” I had been intrigued by him because he was different. I stayed because he was a challenge; so far the only fair one I’ve come across.
“First, I think we’ll go out of town. What do you think, hmm?”
I shot him a glance. I know he didn’t expect a real answer…why waste my breath?
“Blüdhaven it is!”
Blüdhaven? What’s he want with that city? This was getting to be a bit more than I had planned for, but I kept quiet. I think the Hatter’s device was starting to get to me, the way the alcohol in a cocktail gets to your head; with no feeling, it just kind of hits you after the fifth hour and thirteenth glass. But I had this gnawing feeling that he didn’t make this all up on a whim. It was just too…intricate.
“What’s in this city that we can’t get in Gotham?”
“Not much. Ooh, but I’m famished you know. I could go for a little poultry…chicken, duck, maybe? No, no! I know! We need something a little more classy…how about Chinese—up for some Wingding?”
“Just wish it in your head.” I wanted to sound cold. Not that that would matter to him. I still didn’t understand what Wingding meant. Leave it to Joker to be the one person who makes me feel stupid. I stopped caring back when Tetch was around, and plus the lchip was starting to heat up. We were cast onto the top of a storage building and I could hear grunts and crashes below us. I looked to see who was making them and saw a muscular man dressed in a black and blue skin-tight suit, maybe a few years younger than me, fighting three men. My first instinct was to help him. The Hatter’s device stopped that.
“So you see that little bird jumping around there in the black?” I nodded, keeping my eye on Black And Blue. “That’s Wingding, go fetch him!”
“Free or tied?” It was one of those stupid questions you don’t realise is stupid until it’s already left your mouth.
“Well he is the premier boy hostage…can’t have him betray his own name, now can we?”
“Suppose not.”
I dropped down. The dark purple of my own armoured suit seemed brightly coloured compared to his, as did my personality to his; he wasn’t happy I was there. I was so used to incessantly smiling man that I forgot most people don’t grin twenty-four hours a day.
He shot me a warning look, the “who the hell are you and what are you doing here and you better make it fast” kind of look.
I sighed, “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Your presence is requested,” I looked back to see J was furious, “I mean, your presence is demanded,” I looked back again, same face. “Sorry, your presence is being forced, at a little get-together. So come with me and we won’t have any problems.”
He arched an eye brow, “…you’re kidding right?”
“Nightwing?”
“Yeah…”
“I kid you not.”
“Who’s asking?”
“Jok—” Before I could finish my sentence the kid punched me point blank. I suppose he’s not as clean a fighter as Bruce is. No worries. I shot him an uppercut as I slowly rose from the ground, deciding a few good rounds (minus lchip powers) was in order. Nice night out of town, my arse. We fought for a bit, and I will say this—the kid has talent. He would’ve made a wonderful agent. But it’s hard to win a fight with someone that is part, for lack of a better word, machine. I had him down in ten minutes. Not the best track record, but J was happy with the results.
“Perfect, perfect. Make sure he’s out for a while. We’ve more guests to invite.”
_____
Four trips and three guests later, our guest list had acquired Batgirl, Red Robin, and a very disgruntled Oracle. According to J, she was not to be on the guest list originally. His reaction to her being with Batgirl was: “I’ve had all the fun I possibly could with her…I mean what’s funnier than putting wheels on a former bat? She should be thankful! I mean, I’ve given her the greatest gift! She gets to sit around doing nothing forever…”
It was four trips because we had to stop at a store. Apparently something that Harley had said before she was to be “killed” got J to crave cigars. Our next stop was the current “boy hostage.” This was to be a bit tricky seeing as he was probably with Bruce. It wouldn’t be easy to remove him without having to tangle with father first.
When we found Robin, he was chasing one of the men involved in robbing the first national bank in Gotham. My first thought was, a robbery isn’t going to be your biggest worry tonight, Bruce. I wanted to tip him off somehow. Somehow never came to me though and I trudged on like a goddamn lackey. But at that point, Tetch’s device had successfully infiltrated the lchip’s central area. Anything, anyone the Joker touches turns to work for him…except Bruce. Robin turned out to be the easiest to snatch of them all. A quick sneak attack, pressure to all the right areas and he was out cold in seconds. I guess good help got progressively harder to find after Black And Blue grew up.
The roof of the factory looked like someone had shot a clown and his insides exploded everywhere. J seemed to like it though, so that meant everyone liked it. So far no one was killed and I was getting a bit antsy. I mean, that was his thing right? I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. And this whole situation was becoming worse and worse. And at the same time, I was getting very heated; the kind of heated a computer gets when left on in hundred degree weather. If he uses me more, he’s going to kill me. I need to cool down.
He had me get a school bus onto the roof. (It seemed out of place to me as well.) Then, one by one, he had me forcefully attach the chairs they were all tied to onto the top of the school bus until they were side by side facing the street.
“Splendid…now we only need one more thing and then we can start the party!”
Part Five: Family Reunion
It was a brisk and windy night while Joker tinkered with a radio and the hostages desperately tried to free themselves. And though this would be the worst opportunity to gloat, it was quite an accomplishment to have defeated such strong people. These were my friends, my comrades, and all I could think about was how I had treated them. I know it’s not entirely my fault, but blame is never a one sided ocean; its waters reach at least one other coast. And Joker was so obviously fine with his coast—his blame, seeing as it was what he wanted. It made me think about how things would be if I were always looking at them through the glass and not standing by their side. And then of course my train of thought was interrupted.
J began humming to the song playing, mumbling his own version of the lyrics. “Come here, toots, let’s dance!” He twirled over to me with a pleasant and affectionate smile on his face, and grabbed my hand, forcing me to dance. The weird henchmen looked at us, clapping and whistling. We danced over to the edge of the building, him humming to the Sinatra song playing. “Let’s start this party off with a blast,” he laughed with evil on his breath, in a low tone that rose quickly into a maniacal one. We stopped moving and he stood behind me, one hand on my waist, the other on his face. Then from his pant pocket, he took out what looked like a pistol and shot it into the building across. A loud explosion and bits of brick and plaster later, and the building was engulfed in flames. “Hopefully, someone was in there,” he added with a smirk. His hand still grasped my waist, so he turned me so that I was facing him, “You know, you keep this up sweets, and you’ll give Harley a run for her life.” He lowered his head slowly and pressed his lips to mine. How could I say no to him?
_____
It wasn’t long before police flooded the area. They were helplessly trying to put out the fire and find out who had caused it, all the while never realising we were right there. And although J seemed happy, he made it known that it wasn’t enough. Unfortunately by that time, I was overworked and I felt sickly. I was sitting, perspiring, literally dying of having my central overheated, as he pranced up to me for his next request.
Classy now, he stood with a cigar in his mouth, top hat, shined shoes. I didn’t even remember doing that.
“Mysty baby, you don’t look so good. Tell your dear old Mistah J what’s wrong.”
I could barely speak. I could barely move. My arm slowly lifted itself with a finger outstretched pointing to his mouth. I longed for the cigar; a smoke would do it, a smoke could save me. He took it out of his mouth, a cloud of smoke escaping through his cornflower teeth.
“You want the cigar, ey? Why didn’t you say so!” He grabbed a few more from his pocket and lit them, shoving them in my mouth.
“No! Wait!” He cried out. “Those are the special kind. Spit them out, spit them out!” I kept them in my mouth, knowing that the toxins on them wouldn’t affect me much. If anything they would help my cancer get worse and in turn get me better. I placed my finger on his lips and smiled, making my own clouds now. His eyebrows furrowed and one rose higher than the other. Then he did something familiar. That smile…the same one that had intrigued me so long ago.
He said, “I knew I liked you, toots.” And I felt my heart beat like a drum in my ears like a lovesick high school freshman.
“Yeah.” I wish I didn’t like you.
“Down to business again, I need you to do me one more thing, love, if you’re up to it. Not that you have much of a choice otherwise…”
I only looked at him, just relishing in the cigars.
“I need you to get me access to the public broadcasting system, so that we could have this lovely party immortalized in the lovely form of film!”
It was done before he finished his sentence. I suppose the toxins in the cigars did me better than I thought they would. I stayed, smoking each one to the very last puff.
He spoke softly to me, so the camera didn’t catch his words, “you’re really starting to impress me, you know.” Then he turned to the camera, bowed and took off his hat and said, “Good evening, Gothamites! Joker here, to host a special broadcast this evening. But before we begin, we seem to be missing someone! So for now, I give you, lowly henchmen and piñatas!”
The clown-faced men began to beat Robin, Batgirl, Oracle, Nightwing, and Red Robin. Their blood flew from their mouths and bodies all across the roof. I watched in agony, but every step I took toward them, the virus made me take back. And just as I was about to lose all hope, I felt the ground beneath me shake, and saw a dark figure’s presence.
He was tenacious and obscure with a mysterious aura that made it feel as though he may not even be there. In short, he was like a beautiful nightmare, horrifying and vivid—the car crash you can’t peel your eyes from. I just hope that he could someday forgive me for all this…
“Joker, this ends now.” His voice was low, strong, forceful.
J had his back turned, near a table that had “party-favours” that the henchmen had decorated the roof with earlier. He spoke with his back turned at first.
“I don’t think so, Bats.” He turned, pointing the same pistol he used earlier at Bruce and as he shot it he said, “The party’s only just begun. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”
_____
The pistol shot an electric current that latched onto Bruce’s suit and knocked him off his feet. To this day, I can still hear that last agonized scream he let out before he was unconscious.
Joker’s eyes beamed, “Ooh, I just love it when a plan works out! Boys, go fetch our guest of honour and make sure he gets a nice, secure seat. Oh and, Mysty, make sure they do a good job.”
That was my cue to do to Bruce what I had done to his family. It was a strange moment. I thought about the fact that he did have a family. Maybe not the conventional kind, but it still beat me.
“Alright, are we ready no—” Before he could finish his sentence, the roof door slammed shut loudly. I couldn’t believe it. I figured she’d be out cold for at least twenty-four hours. But in she came, the girlfriend, the ex-girlfriend, Harley—and she was furious.
“Harley? What are you doing here?” He snarled at her.
“Don’t you Harley me, ya big goon! Ya know what I had to do to get here? To get up at all?! Just ‘cause of your purple-snot floozy over there! Ya want me dead? Fine! But either go through with it or don’t touch me at all! And I’ll tell ya one thing,” she turned to face me, eyebrows furrowing with rage, “If you want my Mistah J, you’re gonna have to fight me for it, ‘cause I don’t just give him up that easy!”
I almost laughed. Almost. She had passion, I’ll give her that. But I don’t think she really knew what she was getting herself into. And as much as it should’ve warmed J’s heart, it only angered him more.
“Harley, you twit! Not now, I’m in the middle of something!” He looked at me and howled, “Get rid of her!”
I had her smashed into the inside of the school bus the others were subdued on. It pleased him, as was obvious by the muscles on his face relaxing.
“Alright now, wake him up!”
Bruce came to with his mouth taped shut. He didn’t scream. He didn’t move. He simply watched.
“Ladies and germs of Gotham, I give you, the Bat Family! Tonight, we are going to find out just who these pathetic, justice-obsessed losers are! But wait, there’s more! Just as you, yes, you, are seeing this live, Batman gets to watch too! HAHAHAHAHA.”
Joker sprinted to Batman, placing his hands on the chair’s armrests and his face nearly two inches from B’s.
In a low voice he spoke, “Now you get to see all your successors exposed, frightened and vulnerable, much as you must be right now. HAHAHAHAHA.” Bruce then rocked his head into Joker’s, and J let out a small cry, but that quickly turned into a laugh. “Glad to know I’m under your skin, hu-ooh.”
He sauntered over to the bus and had me lift him. At the same time, I felt the virus being fought off by the lchip and my immune system; things were finally starting to clear up. The first person was Oracle.
“And for number one we have—well, never mind,” he looked bored by her presence, “What a way to start, ey? I really thought had finished with you years ago. You’re like an overbearing, incessant rash, aren’t you? You just never go away. Anyway, next.” He punched her face and went on to the next person; Robin.
“I just can’t ever rid the world of you, can I?”
He began mercilessly beating Robin with his bare hands, which were as much a weapon as anything else. He really is stronger than he looks. I found my eyes wandering over to Bruce, and I felt like he was helpless. But his mind said something else. So I tried the hero thing again. I removed the tape from his mouth. The way he looked at me, told me that he didn’t hate me. Thank God he didn’t hate me…
“Joker!”
“Hmm, who said you could talk? You’re supposed to watch, Batsy!”
Then Bruce did something that caught even me off guard, not to mention Joker. The look on J’s face was priceless. Bruce laughed.
“I never thought I’d see the day, where you’d hit rock bottom. Was it Harley that suggested this to you? I mean what exactly will unmasking them do?”
Joker didn’t speak. He simply jumped down from the bus, picked up Bruce in the chair and threw it across the floor.
“It’ll ruin your life! You’ll be all alone! And you’ll have another day to add to your list. Another day that, when you think of it, your stomach churns, heart hurts, and mind races to forget. Because one bad day is indeed what it takes to go mad, but the days that succeed it, the ones that remind you, are lined with even more misery and despair, are the ones that keep you mad. You’ve all got those, Bats. Now tell me, doesn’t that make crazy, normal? HAHAHAHAHA.”
His body shook with laughter, so much so, that he was clutching his stomach and kicking his feet, while his eyes began to tear. Then I heard a loud noise that sounded much like faraway fireworks. At the end of the roof, Harley stood there with her torn suit, holding a smoking gun. Her big blue eyes wandered over to me.
“Changed my mind there, tramp. If ya want ‘im, you can have ‘im!”
Joker dropped down quickly, still slightly laughing. That was it. It was over. It was finally over.
Part Six: The True Ace
The last encounter I had with him was brief. It was tawdry and infuriating, like when you bet all you have on 24 black, and the ball lands on 25 red. But it was refreshing and invigorating as well. A few months had gone by. I mostly went back to apologise—yes, to him, and therefore to Gotham and Bruce and his friends, for ever letting such a stupid thing happen. If I hadn’t have been so selfish and demanding, none of this would’ve happened.
I, of course, was pardoned for my actions; not to say that I didn’t feel guilty for the entire matter. But after Tetch talked it was easy to see I was a mere pawn and not behind any of it. But it still didn’t seem right, so I went over to Arkham to see him. Though normally I would’ve asked Bruce, talked to the doctors, etcetera, I felt like he wouldn’t be honest. So I snuck in.
I watched him in the shadows, sitting on the bed with his back hunched over. It was quiet, and the only sound that you could hear was the soft rubbing of the playing cards in his hands. Even before I could say a word, he spoke.
“It’s been a while, sweets,” his voice was calm and low and curious.
“It has.”
“What brings you here?”
“I wanted to apologise.”
He kept playing with the cards, rearranging them into different piles, playing solitaire maybe. I couldn’t tell; it was quite dark, maybe three am. He didn’t turn around, and he took a good while before answering.
“For what, exactly?”
“When Tetch held us captive, what I did to you…”
“I don’t do anything—one, I don’t want to do.”
I was confused, genuinely confused, and I’m sure he felt it. He didn’t need to see. J was just one of those people.
“So you wanted to?”
He turned around to face me and said, “Don’t you find it a bit strange that as soon as we were finished, Harley came through the door?”
I hadn’t thought about that. But then again, I couldn’t grasp what he was trying to say. And then I realised. And I felt like what I fancy Bruce felt like the first time he slightly understood how Joker’s mind works.
“You planned the whole thing, didn’t you?”
He fell onto the bed, making the cards fly off, as he began laughing. His only mistake had been neglecting Harley. He was still laughing when I left him. I could hear the echoes through the cell walls, as I flew up into the night sky. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t upset. In fact, that was when I first began to respect Joker, because when someone is that skilled and talented with their craft, you can’t feel anything other than respect—no matter how insane they may be.
My first encounter with him was brief. It was typical and ordinary, yet classic and tasteful, like a little black dress draped across a curvy vixen. It didn’t seem important at all, that night, and maybe it still isn’t. I can only tell you what I feel, and keep in mind that isn’t always fact. But then again, what is?
I was in town on business—well, sort of. I needed something from a friend. To be honest I can’t recall exactly what it was, but that’s not the point. Bruce, and I call him that mainly because I don’t like to call him his other name, was finishing up with him, taking him away to Arkham to put him and his obsessive “girlfriend” away. At that point, I didn’t know much about her, or the relationship, or him really. So at that point, I couldn’t understand why she was so passive and with no question simply allowed him to do as he pleased, even if that meant harming her which it did on many occasions. He was controlling, influential, omnipotent—a one man show. Those were the only excuses I could find for her, and for me, to put my machine mind to rest.
Of course, these were things that I had only heard of, and never actually witnessed until that night…sort of. By “sort of” I mean that I hadn’t seen him do anything to her or to anyone because by the time I had arrived, Brucey already had them…apprehended. It was quite a spectacle, seems they both were up to their classic ways. Him with the henchmen and senseless yet humourous quips, Bruce with his upside down tie-ups, leaving them to sway in the wind for a bit before he took them in himself. I suppose he was one of those personal calls, the ones that were better done firsthand. I could only make assumptions, really. But I’ll admit that I did peek a bit into B, and his mind had a very different story to tell. Not his own story; that was an area even I was afraid to touch upon. Every time I’d get close to it, I’d get a surge of pain to my temples, the kind you get when you stick a steel needle into a plug socket. He felt that the countless men with painted faces and pistols, gal at his right hand, old jokes exposed down his sleeve, that they were a diversion, that he had a bigger plan as he always had. Again, this was all new to me; could very well be the wild imagination of an amnestic, outlandish, android type.
I followed as Bruce dragged in the poor thing. He seemed so thin, so pallid, so lanky. It was quite hard to believe that this man could be such a powerful criminal; a master of his craft, the Clown King of Crime, if you will. It made him all the more alluring. I helped with the girl, holding her handcuffed hands, as Bruce held his, walking through the cracking powdered white halls that reeked of that nauseating hospital smell. I never much liked asylums…Anyway, at one point, he fell down to his knees. I knew it was purposely done; the waves in his mind easily showed it, but the others couldn’t tell as was proven when she shrieked in fear—actual fear, for his safety. He twisted his neck to look back at me, emerald eyes glittering in the faint lights, and then he did something so pure, so true, so...furtive. He smiled.
Part Two: The Pocket Aces
My second encounter with him was less brief. In fact, it couldn’t have been more lengthy, or strange for that matter. But it was when I had the opportunity to delve into the chambers of Gotham’s, and possibly the world’s, finest criminal mastermind—somewhat. As troubling a case as Bruce was, Joker was worse. So what I found in him was not memory, but personality or more appropriately, personalities. But I’ll get into that bit later.
I was in the mansion that I had built solely for diversion purposes; living a double life isn’t always exciting and dangerous, it’s rather annoying at times. I have the lchip in me to blame for that, but the one thing that is “good” about it, is that whenever my body feels threatened, it automatically puts my suit on. I’m not sure if Starr had worked that in purposely or if it recognizes that itself; either way, it was a blessing in disguise. I felt the suit attaching to my body, as the small arms slunk around my neck and mouth, and my last thought was, and I kid you not, how in hell did I not hear them coming?
______
The room was dimly lit when I awoke, feeling a tightness on my wrists and ankles. I was tied to a chair and as groggy as I felt, I could feel the lchip was still in place, as was my suit, so it would take all of 0.6 seconds to escape.
“Awake, finally.” I turned to see who was speaking, but because of the lighting and his positioning, his because it was a male voice, I couldn’t tell. All I could see was a pair of white and black dress shoes, pinstriped purple pants and arm sleeves, and a brush of jade hair. No face, and I knew it was him. And we were both tied up. All that was missing was why.
“Now we can both try to think of a way to get out.” His crimson lips stretched from ear to ear, eyes green and beaming like a cat’s eyes in a dark alley as he dragged the chair into the light. I didn’t answer.
“Oh, toots, not talking to me isn’t going to get you out of this. Our best bet is to work together.”
Still no answer.
“Look, I know you’re a friend of the Bat, but I’m willing to overlook that little detail so that we could get out of here!”
“Who did this?”
“Hu-ooh, that’s the funny part. At least, it’s funny for now…until I get my hands on her.”
That was probably the most direct answer I’d get out of him. So I peeked.
“It was…your girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend...that girl’s got a bullet waiting for her when I get out of here. Say, how did you say you knew that?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, I like you,” he giggled, “I like you a lot. In fact, I feel comfortable around you. I haven’t felt like this about anyone since…well, since Harley changed.”
One scan showed that he was lying. Another showed that he was telling the truth. I stayed tied up, figuring he’d talk more if he didn’t know I could escape so easily. I listened.
“She changed?”
“Oh, yes. I mean look at me! Chained and tied like a poor defenseless animal…she abuses me, you know; hides it so well under that false lovey attitude toward me. Clever one, she is…she’s got you all, even the Bat, fooled.”
He began to sob, and it all looked so real, to the point that if I couldn’t read his body language and mind, I would’ve believed him. But I played along, all the while figuring that he might slip a little truth into there. That was my first mistake.
His words were vivid and painted with perfection, that not even a best-selling author could top his impromptu story. I was genuinely impressed. And even though his mind said that he was speaking the truth, I knew it was all a lie. I fancied myself his new match to beat. True, his obsession and long history with Bruce proved stronger, but I figured my abilities could work better. Second mistake.
As I tried to see the memories in his mind, in between the words that he spoke, I felt that familiar twist of pain; the one I get when I try with Bruce, the electric and sockets…it was very hard to see much of anything. But I kept with it. The only constant “memory” was that of a bat, and a fleeting one of red and black and a painted face. I wanted more, though, I wanted to know. He was the first person that I couldn’t read, that I couldn’t figure out. Third mistake.
“And so, the last memory I have of her is knocking me out cold with her hammer.”
“Sweetheart, you’re quite the storyteller.” I broke out of the chair and walked over to him, stroking his cheek lightly. “But you’re going to have to tell the stories to someone that can’t tell when you’re lying.”
He arched an eyebrow and smiled at me. “So you’re not going to let me free?”
“No.”
“But that’s not fair! What happened to honour among captives?! Have you no heart?!” He could tell I was unimpressed. But he continued and hung his head low “…I only told you that story because I was afraid to tell you the truth…”
Choosing to stay after that was the last mistake I made…I stopped counting from then on. Telling myself that I knew what I was doing, knew that he was using me, was the only thing I had that set me apart from Harley. Or at least I thought it was. I gave him a questioning glance, telling him to continue and of course, since it was the difference between escaping and staying, he did.
“The truth is I can’t remember much of anything. And honestly, I don’t want to anymore. What’s the point, really? Inventing history is far more exciting than recording it, don’t you think, sweets?”
“I can’t remember, either…”
“See, you and I are not very different, doll. We can create our own histories. Make them incredible, enchanting, hilarious even! However we want! What say you join me, hmm?”
Every time I try to remember my past, it comes back differently. That was the pocket ace. That was when he won the game. And that was when I realised how much I wanted him. The room didn’t have a door that we could see; I knew that he would need me to exit, so I untied him, but not before playing a trick of my own.
Controlling minds isn’t my favourite thing to do, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion, and that was a rare occurrence in itself; that I couldn’t help myself. And so I used him. Raw, skin to skin—I wanted to taste the poison that lived inside of him because to me it was more like a drug, and I wanted my fix. We were both apathetic souls, cold and emotionless, but for a moment I felt like we canceled each other out and something beautiful occurred. That was my pocket ace.
Part Three: If the Hat Fits…Take It
By the time it was over, I made sure he didn’t remember anything had happened. And right as we were about to escape, a door appeared at the north wall, Harley standing in its frame.
“Come on you two, he’s waitin’…”
“Harley, baby! What’s all this about? Is it because I threw out the kids? We can get ‘em back, no questions asked! Just stop this nonsense…” She put her face nearly two inches from his and gave him one of those “I’m not having it” looks. He smiled. “…I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” then in a smaller voice he said, “…maybe just torture and kill you.”
“Move along.” She said in a tone that didn’t seem like herself; even I could tell. But I couldn’t tell what was wrong with her, though it was obviously bothering Joker. Seems he doesn’t take too well to being ignored by the one person who…never ignores him.
“WHAT?! You dare defy me?! Why you little harlot…when I get my—“
I whispered to him, “Shush. Let’s find out what’s going on first…” He stopped mid sentence, and began a new act. Hanging his head low, he walked on along my side, as we were led into a room covered with naked mannequins, with only hats resting atop their plastic and bald heads.
“Good evening, Joker. Good evening, Myst.” A voice spoke smoothly, calmly, “A spot of tea, perhaps?”
Emerging from the shadows was a tiny man, dressed in green with a very large top hat and a card stuck in the brim of it. The look of rage and shock on Joker was as amusing as the man’s size. He was the one who had kidnapped us? I’m surely losing my touch.
“Allow me to introduce myself, as this would be our first acquaintance, Myst. My name is Jervis Tetch, better known as the Mad Hatter.”
Obsessive compulsive, childlike tendencies, obsessed with hats, mind control—he was an easy read.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mr. Tetch?” I answered, playing to his tune.
“How pleasantly you speak; makes your future look less bleak. Though, sadly I must state, you’ll not like your imminent fate.” The man spoke in rhymes…swell. Though he was speaking like that, he wasn’t what worried me. The elevated dopamine levels, rushing endorphins—Joker was going to do something, and someone wasn’t going to live. Stall, M, stall. Get him to talk about his plans…
“What is this fate you speak of, dear Mr. Tetch?”
“Jervis, to you darling. Your disposition almost makes me regret what I’ve planned for you.” He began to walk around, picking up a few hats looking them over, as it seemed he had done a hundred times prior, as we stood arms tied, being held by women dressed in strange leotards. “You see, I had learned of you and your abilities through a friend, yes, a “friend” and was completely impressed. The handling with minds you have, the control, the brilliance of it all, intrigued me so. Yes, indeed.” J loosened up, looking almost eager to hear my story, as told by the pixie hat man. “Once I realised that your potential was…untapped, I knew I had to have it.” Tetch then walked up to me, eyes beaming at me, like a child’s. “And that was when this wonderful plan was born in my brilliant mind!”
One thing I didn’t understand. “So what does Joker have to do with this?”
Tetch put on an aggravated face, as he walked up to J, the pale man staring down at him with such passionate loathing. “I had recruited the clown’s lady to fetch you for me, as she was easiest to manipulate, even before putting a device on her.” He shot a glance to the now blood boiling clown, “Think of it as revenge for when you stole my devices and used them on me!” “Anyway, when she returned, she not only had you, but the jester as well. Seems that even in with a mind control device, she cannot separate herself from him. Can’t see why, really… Regardless, I would’ve gotten rid of him, until another bright idea worked its way to me!”
“Oh, Jervis old boy, you’re not really my type, you know…HAHAHA.”
The pixie then kicked J’s leg, forcing him to fall over, “No, I figured who better to keep her busy than you? One story of yours alone takes a good hour, least it did in Arkham. I knew you’d keep her around long enough so that I could finish my newest invention. A most personal invention that not even you, clown man, could conjure up! Haha! It’s sitting right in my pocket and attaches to the neck. By the time we’re through, the power of you, my dear Myst, will also be the power of the Mad Hatter! So, ha! Ha! Ha!”
Almost foaming at the mouth, J scowled at Tetch, “You’re a lunatic, you know? They say I’m crazy?! Look at fancy fedora pixie man! HAHAHAHA. You honestly believe that you could two time me? And insult the intelligence of ol’ Grey Eyes here? HAHAHAHA. You’re a funnier lad than I recall, Jervie boy! HAHAHAHAHA.”
Tetch’s face twisted into a grimace, and his large and overbearing teeth rubbed against each other. “You all will never understand how my brilliant mind works!”
J whipped his head around, kicking the woman holding him and knocking her unconscious in an instant. I did the same, unfortunately; it was either that or have wonderland man take control of me with his device. I saw J run to the Mad Hatter and begin to beat him, as I fought off the rest of the henchwomen.
I thought I had them all down, or at least a moment before the next one got up; I didn’t want to use my powers carelessly. I looked to find him, and felt someone grab my neck. Instinctively, I flipped them over only to find that it was him…and that the Hatter’s device was now on me. I dropped down to the floor and felt the waves of the device try to latch onto me, only a few did; I could still control a good portion of my actions.
He put Tetch’s hat on and said, “You know what they say; if the hat fits…take it and wear it…and create chaos! See, sweets, our history will be fascinating, unleveled, nefarious! HAHAHAHAHAHA.”
Part Four: Tex, You Can’t Hold This One
The first thing he had me do was knock around the girlfriend or ex-girlfriend as he calls her now. He wanted me to punch her stomach repeatedly; something a lowly henchman could do, which made me wonder if he really knew the gravity of having this kind of control over me. But as I was quickly learning, even if his actions seem to come from nowhere, there’s always a reason behind what Joker does. He wanted her to cough up the blood, bleed out through her mouth so that he could authentically paint a smile similar to his own on her face…then I was supposed to kill her. She didn’t say a word, only a few painful cries here and there. She really did take anything he threw at her. I tried my best not to punch too hard. That was when I wondered if he had any real sense in him; I mean, he was going to kill her because she had “betrayed” him, while under a mind control device, much like the one he was using on me. I suppose to him there is no honour among thieves, or women. Or I could be playing into the widely accepted reasoning for his actions. What if, what if…he wasn’t killing her because she had betrayed him, but rather because he felt betrayed? Course, I could be talking a load of rubbish myself.
Anyway, he wanted her dead. And I felt sorry for her, but not the pity kind of sorry. The kind of sorry that you feel when you understand why someone would choose another’s wants over their own, no matter how ludicrous they are... like allowing someone to control your mind or something... If the lchip were any weaker, he would certainly have full control over me; one of the few moments in my life, and I do mean few, that I was thankful for Alexander Starr’s brilliance. But even that wouldn’t last long.
Much as her pain and suffering would’ve been over if I killed her, I knew I couldn’t. So I tried the hero thing.
“You know, Tetch only did to her what you’re doing to me.” His grin slid down to a playful and shocked expression. Was he ever an actor? He’s damn good.
“And that’s supposed to make me stop?” He giggled.
“Well she didn’t mean you any harm. I mean, she didn’t know what she was doing.” He walked up to me, eyes a fiery green shade and laughed.
“She almost got caught! You know the countless secrets about me he could’ve had her spill?! I don’t deal with anything less than the best, and you, my dear…you, are very bold. I can tell even ol’ Scarecrow would have trouble scaring you. I tell you what, I’ll let her live.” He bent down and threw a handkerchief at her. She looked at him with pained and defeated eyes. “But, I can’t leave her looking all shriveled like a fish out of water! No, what she needs—what you need Harley baby, is a good laugh.” Joker then squeezed the flower on his shirt and a green liquid sprayed onto her face. She started laughing almost instantly.
“Mysty dear, get me some of my boys here. We’ve got to go.”
So the hero thing worked…sort of. “What about her?”
“Leave her. I don’t have time for this. We’ve work to do!”
And so we left. A good part of me didn’t want to follow him and I probably could’ve broken free from the device then, had I tried hard enough. But I felt like I owed him…for what I had done when we were hostages. So I let him use me because I had used him.
_____
I laughed inside a bit when I saw his henchmen. The big, burly men had their faces painted to resemble Joker’s. I don’t know if it’s because he’s so very conceited or it just gives him a good laugh to see what lengths people would go to, to work for him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise that he’d kill you once you were useless to him. I’m going to say it’s a bit of both then. For a “disfigured” person, he was quite vain. I appreciated that confidence a bit more than I wanted to.
We wound up on the roof of an older building near the middle of the city. It was an abandoned party-favour factory.
“Alright boys, you’re going to get some of the stuff I stored down there and decorate the place. Sweets and I are going to go find us some guests…”
It was irritating how I could have the most inner thoughts of any person in a moment’s notice yet I couldn’t even peek to see what in hell J meant by “finding guests.” I had been intrigued by him because he was different. I stayed because he was a challenge; so far the only fair one I’ve come across.
“First, I think we’ll go out of town. What do you think, hmm?”
I shot him a glance. I know he didn’t expect a real answer…why waste my breath?
“Blüdhaven it is!”
Blüdhaven? What’s he want with that city? This was getting to be a bit more than I had planned for, but I kept quiet. I think the Hatter’s device was starting to get to me, the way the alcohol in a cocktail gets to your head; with no feeling, it just kind of hits you after the fifth hour and thirteenth glass. But I had this gnawing feeling that he didn’t make this all up on a whim. It was just too…intricate.
“What’s in this city that we can’t get in Gotham?”
“Not much. Ooh, but I’m famished you know. I could go for a little poultry…chicken, duck, maybe? No, no! I know! We need something a little more classy…how about Chinese—up for some Wingding?”
“Just wish it in your head.” I wanted to sound cold. Not that that would matter to him. I still didn’t understand what Wingding meant. Leave it to Joker to be the one person who makes me feel stupid. I stopped caring back when Tetch was around, and plus the lchip was starting to heat up. We were cast onto the top of a storage building and I could hear grunts and crashes below us. I looked to see who was making them and saw a muscular man dressed in a black and blue skin-tight suit, maybe a few years younger than me, fighting three men. My first instinct was to help him. The Hatter’s device stopped that.
“So you see that little bird jumping around there in the black?” I nodded, keeping my eye on Black And Blue. “That’s Wingding, go fetch him!”
“Free or tied?” It was one of those stupid questions you don’t realise is stupid until it’s already left your mouth.
“Well he is the premier boy hostage…can’t have him betray his own name, now can we?”
“Suppose not.”
I dropped down. The dark purple of my own armoured suit seemed brightly coloured compared to his, as did my personality to his; he wasn’t happy I was there. I was so used to incessantly smiling man that I forgot most people don’t grin twenty-four hours a day.
He shot me a warning look, the “who the hell are you and what are you doing here and you better make it fast” kind of look.
I sighed, “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Your presence is requested,” I looked back to see J was furious, “I mean, your presence is demanded,” I looked back again, same face. “Sorry, your presence is being forced, at a little get-together. So come with me and we won’t have any problems.”
He arched an eye brow, “…you’re kidding right?”
“Nightwing?”
“Yeah…”
“I kid you not.”
“Who’s asking?”
“Jok—” Before I could finish my sentence the kid punched me point blank. I suppose he’s not as clean a fighter as Bruce is. No worries. I shot him an uppercut as I slowly rose from the ground, deciding a few good rounds (minus lchip powers) was in order. Nice night out of town, my arse. We fought for a bit, and I will say this—the kid has talent. He would’ve made a wonderful agent. But it’s hard to win a fight with someone that is part, for lack of a better word, machine. I had him down in ten minutes. Not the best track record, but J was happy with the results.
“Perfect, perfect. Make sure he’s out for a while. We’ve more guests to invite.”
_____
Four trips and three guests later, our guest list had acquired Batgirl, Red Robin, and a very disgruntled Oracle. According to J, she was not to be on the guest list originally. His reaction to her being with Batgirl was: “I’ve had all the fun I possibly could with her…I mean what’s funnier than putting wheels on a former bat? She should be thankful! I mean, I’ve given her the greatest gift! She gets to sit around doing nothing forever…”
It was four trips because we had to stop at a store. Apparently something that Harley had said before she was to be “killed” got J to crave cigars. Our next stop was the current “boy hostage.” This was to be a bit tricky seeing as he was probably with Bruce. It wouldn’t be easy to remove him without having to tangle with father first.
When we found Robin, he was chasing one of the men involved in robbing the first national bank in Gotham. My first thought was, a robbery isn’t going to be your biggest worry tonight, Bruce. I wanted to tip him off somehow. Somehow never came to me though and I trudged on like a goddamn lackey. But at that point, Tetch’s device had successfully infiltrated the lchip’s central area. Anything, anyone the Joker touches turns to work for him…except Bruce. Robin turned out to be the easiest to snatch of them all. A quick sneak attack, pressure to all the right areas and he was out cold in seconds. I guess good help got progressively harder to find after Black And Blue grew up.
The roof of the factory looked like someone had shot a clown and his insides exploded everywhere. J seemed to like it though, so that meant everyone liked it. So far no one was killed and I was getting a bit antsy. I mean, that was his thing right? I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. And this whole situation was becoming worse and worse. And at the same time, I was getting very heated; the kind of heated a computer gets when left on in hundred degree weather. If he uses me more, he’s going to kill me. I need to cool down.
He had me get a school bus onto the roof. (It seemed out of place to me as well.) Then, one by one, he had me forcefully attach the chairs they were all tied to onto the top of the school bus until they were side by side facing the street.
“Splendid…now we only need one more thing and then we can start the party!”
Part Five: Family Reunion
It was a brisk and windy night while Joker tinkered with a radio and the hostages desperately tried to free themselves. And though this would be the worst opportunity to gloat, it was quite an accomplishment to have defeated such strong people. These were my friends, my comrades, and all I could think about was how I had treated them. I know it’s not entirely my fault, but blame is never a one sided ocean; its waters reach at least one other coast. And Joker was so obviously fine with his coast—his blame, seeing as it was what he wanted. It made me think about how things would be if I were always looking at them through the glass and not standing by their side. And then of course my train of thought was interrupted.
J began humming to the song playing, mumbling his own version of the lyrics. “Come here, toots, let’s dance!” He twirled over to me with a pleasant and affectionate smile on his face, and grabbed my hand, forcing me to dance. The weird henchmen looked at us, clapping and whistling. We danced over to the edge of the building, him humming to the Sinatra song playing. “Let’s start this party off with a blast,” he laughed with evil on his breath, in a low tone that rose quickly into a maniacal one. We stopped moving and he stood behind me, one hand on my waist, the other on his face. Then from his pant pocket, he took out what looked like a pistol and shot it into the building across. A loud explosion and bits of brick and plaster later, and the building was engulfed in flames. “Hopefully, someone was in there,” he added with a smirk. His hand still grasped my waist, so he turned me so that I was facing him, “You know, you keep this up sweets, and you’ll give Harley a run for her life.” He lowered his head slowly and pressed his lips to mine. How could I say no to him?
_____
It wasn’t long before police flooded the area. They were helplessly trying to put out the fire and find out who had caused it, all the while never realising we were right there. And although J seemed happy, he made it known that it wasn’t enough. Unfortunately by that time, I was overworked and I felt sickly. I was sitting, perspiring, literally dying of having my central overheated, as he pranced up to me for his next request.
Classy now, he stood with a cigar in his mouth, top hat, shined shoes. I didn’t even remember doing that.
“Mysty baby, you don’t look so good. Tell your dear old Mistah J what’s wrong.”
I could barely speak. I could barely move. My arm slowly lifted itself with a finger outstretched pointing to his mouth. I longed for the cigar; a smoke would do it, a smoke could save me. He took it out of his mouth, a cloud of smoke escaping through his cornflower teeth.
“You want the cigar, ey? Why didn’t you say so!” He grabbed a few more from his pocket and lit them, shoving them in my mouth.
“No! Wait!” He cried out. “Those are the special kind. Spit them out, spit them out!” I kept them in my mouth, knowing that the toxins on them wouldn’t affect me much. If anything they would help my cancer get worse and in turn get me better. I placed my finger on his lips and smiled, making my own clouds now. His eyebrows furrowed and one rose higher than the other. Then he did something familiar. That smile…the same one that had intrigued me so long ago.
He said, “I knew I liked you, toots.” And I felt my heart beat like a drum in my ears like a lovesick high school freshman.
“Yeah.” I wish I didn’t like you.
“Down to business again, I need you to do me one more thing, love, if you’re up to it. Not that you have much of a choice otherwise…”
I only looked at him, just relishing in the cigars.
“I need you to get me access to the public broadcasting system, so that we could have this lovely party immortalized in the lovely form of film!”
It was done before he finished his sentence. I suppose the toxins in the cigars did me better than I thought they would. I stayed, smoking each one to the very last puff.
He spoke softly to me, so the camera didn’t catch his words, “you’re really starting to impress me, you know.” Then he turned to the camera, bowed and took off his hat and said, “Good evening, Gothamites! Joker here, to host a special broadcast this evening. But before we begin, we seem to be missing someone! So for now, I give you, lowly henchmen and piñatas!”
The clown-faced men began to beat Robin, Batgirl, Oracle, Nightwing, and Red Robin. Their blood flew from their mouths and bodies all across the roof. I watched in agony, but every step I took toward them, the virus made me take back. And just as I was about to lose all hope, I felt the ground beneath me shake, and saw a dark figure’s presence.
He was tenacious and obscure with a mysterious aura that made it feel as though he may not even be there. In short, he was like a beautiful nightmare, horrifying and vivid—the car crash you can’t peel your eyes from. I just hope that he could someday forgive me for all this…
“Joker, this ends now.” His voice was low, strong, forceful.
J had his back turned, near a table that had “party-favours” that the henchmen had decorated the roof with earlier. He spoke with his back turned at first.
“I don’t think so, Bats.” He turned, pointing the same pistol he used earlier at Bruce and as he shot it he said, “The party’s only just begun. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”
_____
The pistol shot an electric current that latched onto Bruce’s suit and knocked him off his feet. To this day, I can still hear that last agonized scream he let out before he was unconscious.
Joker’s eyes beamed, “Ooh, I just love it when a plan works out! Boys, go fetch our guest of honour and make sure he gets a nice, secure seat. Oh and, Mysty, make sure they do a good job.”
That was my cue to do to Bruce what I had done to his family. It was a strange moment. I thought about the fact that he did have a family. Maybe not the conventional kind, but it still beat me.
“Alright, are we ready no—” Before he could finish his sentence, the roof door slammed shut loudly. I couldn’t believe it. I figured she’d be out cold for at least twenty-four hours. But in she came, the girlfriend, the ex-girlfriend, Harley—and she was furious.
“Harley? What are you doing here?” He snarled at her.
“Don’t you Harley me, ya big goon! Ya know what I had to do to get here? To get up at all?! Just ‘cause of your purple-snot floozy over there! Ya want me dead? Fine! But either go through with it or don’t touch me at all! And I’ll tell ya one thing,” she turned to face me, eyebrows furrowing with rage, “If you want my Mistah J, you’re gonna have to fight me for it, ‘cause I don’t just give him up that easy!”
I almost laughed. Almost. She had passion, I’ll give her that. But I don’t think she really knew what she was getting herself into. And as much as it should’ve warmed J’s heart, it only angered him more.
“Harley, you twit! Not now, I’m in the middle of something!” He looked at me and howled, “Get rid of her!”
I had her smashed into the inside of the school bus the others were subdued on. It pleased him, as was obvious by the muscles on his face relaxing.
“Alright now, wake him up!”
Bruce came to with his mouth taped shut. He didn’t scream. He didn’t move. He simply watched.
“Ladies and germs of Gotham, I give you, the Bat Family! Tonight, we are going to find out just who these pathetic, justice-obsessed losers are! But wait, there’s more! Just as you, yes, you, are seeing this live, Batman gets to watch too! HAHAHAHAHA.”
Joker sprinted to Batman, placing his hands on the chair’s armrests and his face nearly two inches from B’s.
In a low voice he spoke, “Now you get to see all your successors exposed, frightened and vulnerable, much as you must be right now. HAHAHAHAHA.” Bruce then rocked his head into Joker’s, and J let out a small cry, but that quickly turned into a laugh. “Glad to know I’m under your skin, hu-ooh.”
He sauntered over to the bus and had me lift him. At the same time, I felt the virus being fought off by the lchip and my immune system; things were finally starting to clear up. The first person was Oracle.
“And for number one we have—well, never mind,” he looked bored by her presence, “What a way to start, ey? I really thought had finished with you years ago. You’re like an overbearing, incessant rash, aren’t you? You just never go away. Anyway, next.” He punched her face and went on to the next person; Robin.
“I just can’t ever rid the world of you, can I?”
He began mercilessly beating Robin with his bare hands, which were as much a weapon as anything else. He really is stronger than he looks. I found my eyes wandering over to Bruce, and I felt like he was helpless. But his mind said something else. So I tried the hero thing again. I removed the tape from his mouth. The way he looked at me, told me that he didn’t hate me. Thank God he didn’t hate me…
“Joker!”
“Hmm, who said you could talk? You’re supposed to watch, Batsy!”
Then Bruce did something that caught even me off guard, not to mention Joker. The look on J’s face was priceless. Bruce laughed.
“I never thought I’d see the day, where you’d hit rock bottom. Was it Harley that suggested this to you? I mean what exactly will unmasking them do?”
Joker didn’t speak. He simply jumped down from the bus, picked up Bruce in the chair and threw it across the floor.
“It’ll ruin your life! You’ll be all alone! And you’ll have another day to add to your list. Another day that, when you think of it, your stomach churns, heart hurts, and mind races to forget. Because one bad day is indeed what it takes to go mad, but the days that succeed it, the ones that remind you, are lined with even more misery and despair, are the ones that keep you mad. You’ve all got those, Bats. Now tell me, doesn’t that make crazy, normal? HAHAHAHAHA.”
His body shook with laughter, so much so, that he was clutching his stomach and kicking his feet, while his eyes began to tear. Then I heard a loud noise that sounded much like faraway fireworks. At the end of the roof, Harley stood there with her torn suit, holding a smoking gun. Her big blue eyes wandered over to me.
“Changed my mind there, tramp. If ya want ‘im, you can have ‘im!”
Joker dropped down quickly, still slightly laughing. That was it. It was over. It was finally over.
Part Six: The True Ace
The last encounter I had with him was brief. It was tawdry and infuriating, like when you bet all you have on 24 black, and the ball lands on 25 red. But it was refreshing and invigorating as well. A few months had gone by. I mostly went back to apologise—yes, to him, and therefore to Gotham and Bruce and his friends, for ever letting such a stupid thing happen. If I hadn’t have been so selfish and demanding, none of this would’ve happened.
I, of course, was pardoned for my actions; not to say that I didn’t feel guilty for the entire matter. But after Tetch talked it was easy to see I was a mere pawn and not behind any of it. But it still didn’t seem right, so I went over to Arkham to see him. Though normally I would’ve asked Bruce, talked to the doctors, etcetera, I felt like he wouldn’t be honest. So I snuck in.
I watched him in the shadows, sitting on the bed with his back hunched over. It was quiet, and the only sound that you could hear was the soft rubbing of the playing cards in his hands. Even before I could say a word, he spoke.
“It’s been a while, sweets,” his voice was calm and low and curious.
“It has.”
“What brings you here?”
“I wanted to apologise.”
He kept playing with the cards, rearranging them into different piles, playing solitaire maybe. I couldn’t tell; it was quite dark, maybe three am. He didn’t turn around, and he took a good while before answering.
“For what, exactly?”
“When Tetch held us captive, what I did to you…”
“I don’t do anything—one, I don’t want to do.”
I was confused, genuinely confused, and I’m sure he felt it. He didn’t need to see. J was just one of those people.
“So you wanted to?”
He turned around to face me and said, “Don’t you find it a bit strange that as soon as we were finished, Harley came through the door?”
I hadn’t thought about that. But then again, I couldn’t grasp what he was trying to say. And then I realised. And I felt like what I fancy Bruce felt like the first time he slightly understood how Joker’s mind works.
“You planned the whole thing, didn’t you?”
He fell onto the bed, making the cards fly off, as he began laughing. His only mistake had been neglecting Harley. He was still laughing when I left him. I could hear the echoes through the cell walls, as I flew up into the night sky. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t upset. In fact, that was when I first began to respect Joker, because when someone is that skilled and talented with their craft, you can’t feel anything other than respect—no matter how insane they may be.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
unedited part four J's story!
Part Four: Party Plans
The first thing he had me do was knock around the girlfriend or ex-girlfriend as he calls her now. He wanted me to punch her stomach repeatedly, something a lowly henchman could do, which made me wonder if he really knew the gravity of having this kind of control over me. But as I was quickly learning, even if his actions seem to come from nowhere, there’s always a reason behind what Joker does. He wanted her to cough up the blood, bleed out through her mouth so that he could authentically paint a smile similar to his own on her face…then I was supposed to kill her. She didn’t say a word, only a few painful cries here and there. She really did take anything he threw at her and I tried my best not to punch too hard. That was when I wondered if he had any real sense in him; I mean, he was going to kill her because she had “betrayed” him, while under a mind control device, much like the one he was using on me. I suppose to him there is no honour among thieves, or relationships. Or I could be playing into the widely accepted reasoning for his actions. What if, what if…he wasn’t killing her because she had betrayed him, but rather because he felt betrayed? Course, I could be talking a load of rubbish myself.
Anyway, he wanted her dead. And I felt sorry for her, but not the pity kind of sorry. The kind of sorry that you feel when you understand why someone is sacrificing their wants for someone else’s…no matter how ludicrous they are... like allowing someone to control your mind or something... If the lchip were any weaker, he would certainly have full control over me; one of the few moments in my life, and I do mean few, that I was thankful for Alexander Starr’s brilliance.
Much as her pain and suffering would’ve been over if I killed her, I knew I couldn’t. So I tried the hero thing.
“You know, Tetch only did to her what you’re doing to me.” His grin slid down to a playful and shocked expression. Was he ever an actor? He’s damn good.
“And that’s supposed to make me stop?” He giggled.
“Well she didn’t mean you any harm. I mean, she didn’t know what she was doing.” He walked up to me, eyes a fiery green shade and laughed.
“She almost got caught! You know the countless secrets about me he could’ve had her spill?! I don’t deal with anything less than the best, and you, my dear…you, are very bold. I can tell even ol’ Scarecrow would have trouble scaring you. I tell you what, I’ll let her live.” He bent down and threw a handkerchief at her. She looked at him with pained and defeated eyes. “But, I can’t leave her looking all shriveled like a fish out of water! No, what she needs—what you need Harley baby, is a good laugh.” Joker then squeezed the flower on his shirt and a green liquid sprayed onto her face. She started laughing almost instantly.
“Mysty dear, get me some of my boys here. We’ve got to go.”
So the hero thing worked…sort of. “What about her?”
“Leave her. I don’t have time for this. We’ve work to do!”
And so we left. A good part of me didn’t want to follow him and I probably could’ve broken free from the device had I tried hard enough. But I felt like I owed him…for what I had done when we were hostages. So I let him use me.
_____
I laughed inside a bit when I saw his henchmen. The big, burly men had their faces painted to resemble Joker’s. I don’t know if it’s because he’s that conceited or it just gives him a good laugh to see what lengths people would go to, to work for him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise that he’d kill you once you were useless to him. I’m going to say it’s a bit of both then. For a “disfigured” person, he was quite vain. I appreciated that confidence a bit more than I wanted to.
We wound up on the roof of an older building near the middle of the city. It was an abandoned party-favour factory, so naturally no one would really find us.
“Alright boys, you’re going to get some of the stuff I stored down there and decorate the place. Sweets and I are going to go find us some guests…”
It was irritating how I could have the most inner thoughts of any person in a moment’s notice yet I couldn’t even peek to see what in hell J meant by “finding guests.” I was intrigued by him because he was different. I stayed because he was a challenge; so far the only fair one I’ve come across.
“First, I think we’ll go out of town. What do you think, hmm?”
I shot him a glance. I know he didn’t expect a real answer…why waste my breath?
“Blüdhaven it is!”
Blüdhaven? What’s he want with that city? This was getting to be a bit more than I had planned for, but I kept quiet. I think the Hatter’s device was starting to get to me, the way the alcohol in a cocktail gets to your head; with no feeling, it just kind of hits you after the fifth hour and thirteenth glass. But I had this gnawing feeling that he didn’t make this all up on a whim. It was just too…intricate.
“What’s in this city that we can’t get in Gotham?”
“Not much. Ooh, but I’m famished you know. I could go for a little poultry…chicken, duck, maybe? No, no! I know! We need something a little more classy…how about Chinese—up for some Wingding?”
“Just wish it in your head.” I wanted to sound cold. Not that that would matter to him. I still didn’t understand what Wingding meant. Leave it to Joker to be the one person who makes me feel stupid. I stopped caring back when Tetch was around, and plus the lchip was starting to heat up. We were cast onto the top of a storage building and I could hear grunts and crashes below us. I looked to see who was making them and saw a muscular man dressed in a black and blue skin-tight suit, maybe a few years younger than me, fighting three men. My first instinct was to help him. The Hatter’s device stopped that.
“So you see that little bird jumping around there in the black?” I nodded, keeping my eye on the black and blue. “That’s Wingding, go fetch him!”
“Free or tied?” It was one of those stupid questions you don’t realise is stupid until it’s already left your mouth.
“Well he is the premier boy hostage…can’t have him betray his own name, now can we?”
“Suppose not.”
I dropped down. The dark purple of my own armoured suit seemed brightly coloured compared to his, as did my personality to his; he wasn’t happy I was there. I was so used to incessantly smiling man that I forgot most people don’t smile twenty-four hours a day.
He shot me a warning look, the “who the hell are you and what are you doing here and you better make it fast” kind of look.
I sighed, “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Your presence is requested,” I looked back to see J was furious, “I mean, your presence is demanded,” I looked back again, same face. “Sorry, your presence is being forced, at a little get-together. So come with me and we won’t have any problems.”
He arched an eye brow, “…you’re kidding right?”
“Nightwing?”
“Yeah…”
“I kid you not.”
“Who’s asking?”
“Jok—” Before I could finish my sentence the kid punched me point blank. I suppose he’s not as clean a fighter as Bruce is. No worries. I shot him an uppercut as I slowly rose from the ground, deciding a few good rounds (minus lchip powers) was in order. Nice night out of town, my arse. We fought for a bit, and I will say this—the kid has talent. He would’ve made a wonderful agent. But it’s hard to win a fight with someone that is part, for lack of a better word, machine. I had him down in ten minutes. Not the best track record, but J was happy with the results.
“Perfect, perfect. Make sure he’s out for a while. We’ve more guests to invite.”
_____
Four trips and three guests later, our guest list had acquired Batgirl, Red Robin, and a very disgruntled Oracle. According to J, she was not to be on the guest list originally. His reaction to her being with Batgirl was: “I’ve had all the fun I possibly could with her…I mean what’s funnier than putting wheels on a former bat? She should be thankful! I mean, I’ve given her the greatest gift! She gets to sit around doing nothing forever…”
It was four trips because we had to stop at a store. Apparently something that Harley had said before she was to be “killed” got J to crave lollipops. Our next stop was the current “boy hostage.” This was to be a bit tricky seeing as he was probably with Bruce, it wouldn’t be easy to remove him without having to tangle with father first.
When we found Robin, he was chasing one of the men involved in robbing the first national bank in Gotham. My first thought was, a robbery isn’t going to be your biggest worry tonight, Bruce. I wanted to tip him off somehow. Somehow never came to me though and I trudged on like a goddamn lackey. But at that point, Tetch’s device had successfully infiltrated the lchip’s central area. Anything, anyone the Joker touches turns to work for him…except Bruce. Robin turned out to be the easiest to snatch of them all. A quick sneak attack, pressure to all the right areas and he was out cold in seconds. I guess good help got progressively harder to find after Black and blue grew up.
The roof of the factory looked like someone had shot a clown and his insides exploded everywhere. J seemed to like it though, so that meant everyone liked it. So far no one was killed and I was getting a bit antsy. I mean, that was his thing right? I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. And this whole situation was becoming worse and worse. I was getting very heated; the kind of heated a computer gets when left on in hundred degree weather. If he uses me more, he’s going to kill me. I need to cool down.
He had me get a school bus onto the roof. (It seemed out of place to me as well.) Then, one by one, he had me tie down the chairs they were all tied to onto the top of the school bus until they were side by side facing the street.
“Splendid…now we only need one more thing and then we can start the party!”
The first thing he had me do was knock around the girlfriend or ex-girlfriend as he calls her now. He wanted me to punch her stomach repeatedly, something a lowly henchman could do, which made me wonder if he really knew the gravity of having this kind of control over me. But as I was quickly learning, even if his actions seem to come from nowhere, there’s always a reason behind what Joker does. He wanted her to cough up the blood, bleed out through her mouth so that he could authentically paint a smile similar to his own on her face…then I was supposed to kill her. She didn’t say a word, only a few painful cries here and there. She really did take anything he threw at her and I tried my best not to punch too hard. That was when I wondered if he had any real sense in him; I mean, he was going to kill her because she had “betrayed” him, while under a mind control device, much like the one he was using on me. I suppose to him there is no honour among thieves, or relationships. Or I could be playing into the widely accepted reasoning for his actions. What if, what if…he wasn’t killing her because she had betrayed him, but rather because he felt betrayed? Course, I could be talking a load of rubbish myself.
Anyway, he wanted her dead. And I felt sorry for her, but not the pity kind of sorry. The kind of sorry that you feel when you understand why someone is sacrificing their wants for someone else’s…no matter how ludicrous they are... like allowing someone to control your mind or something... If the lchip were any weaker, he would certainly have full control over me; one of the few moments in my life, and I do mean few, that I was thankful for Alexander Starr’s brilliance.
Much as her pain and suffering would’ve been over if I killed her, I knew I couldn’t. So I tried the hero thing.
“You know, Tetch only did to her what you’re doing to me.” His grin slid down to a playful and shocked expression. Was he ever an actor? He’s damn good.
“And that’s supposed to make me stop?” He giggled.
“Well she didn’t mean you any harm. I mean, she didn’t know what she was doing.” He walked up to me, eyes a fiery green shade and laughed.
“She almost got caught! You know the countless secrets about me he could’ve had her spill?! I don’t deal with anything less than the best, and you, my dear…you, are very bold. I can tell even ol’ Scarecrow would have trouble scaring you. I tell you what, I’ll let her live.” He bent down and threw a handkerchief at her. She looked at him with pained and defeated eyes. “But, I can’t leave her looking all shriveled like a fish out of water! No, what she needs—what you need Harley baby, is a good laugh.” Joker then squeezed the flower on his shirt and a green liquid sprayed onto her face. She started laughing almost instantly.
“Mysty dear, get me some of my boys here. We’ve got to go.”
So the hero thing worked…sort of. “What about her?”
“Leave her. I don’t have time for this. We’ve work to do!”
And so we left. A good part of me didn’t want to follow him and I probably could’ve broken free from the device had I tried hard enough. But I felt like I owed him…for what I had done when we were hostages. So I let him use me.
_____
I laughed inside a bit when I saw his henchmen. The big, burly men had their faces painted to resemble Joker’s. I don’t know if it’s because he’s that conceited or it just gives him a good laugh to see what lengths people would go to, to work for him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise that he’d kill you once you were useless to him. I’m going to say it’s a bit of both then. For a “disfigured” person, he was quite vain. I appreciated that confidence a bit more than I wanted to.
We wound up on the roof of an older building near the middle of the city. It was an abandoned party-favour factory, so naturally no one would really find us.
“Alright boys, you’re going to get some of the stuff I stored down there and decorate the place. Sweets and I are going to go find us some guests…”
It was irritating how I could have the most inner thoughts of any person in a moment’s notice yet I couldn’t even peek to see what in hell J meant by “finding guests.” I was intrigued by him because he was different. I stayed because he was a challenge; so far the only fair one I’ve come across.
“First, I think we’ll go out of town. What do you think, hmm?”
I shot him a glance. I know he didn’t expect a real answer…why waste my breath?
“Blüdhaven it is!”
Blüdhaven? What’s he want with that city? This was getting to be a bit more than I had planned for, but I kept quiet. I think the Hatter’s device was starting to get to me, the way the alcohol in a cocktail gets to your head; with no feeling, it just kind of hits you after the fifth hour and thirteenth glass. But I had this gnawing feeling that he didn’t make this all up on a whim. It was just too…intricate.
“What’s in this city that we can’t get in Gotham?”
“Not much. Ooh, but I’m famished you know. I could go for a little poultry…chicken, duck, maybe? No, no! I know! We need something a little more classy…how about Chinese—up for some Wingding?”
“Just wish it in your head.” I wanted to sound cold. Not that that would matter to him. I still didn’t understand what Wingding meant. Leave it to Joker to be the one person who makes me feel stupid. I stopped caring back when Tetch was around, and plus the lchip was starting to heat up. We were cast onto the top of a storage building and I could hear grunts and crashes below us. I looked to see who was making them and saw a muscular man dressed in a black and blue skin-tight suit, maybe a few years younger than me, fighting three men. My first instinct was to help him. The Hatter’s device stopped that.
“So you see that little bird jumping around there in the black?” I nodded, keeping my eye on the black and blue. “That’s Wingding, go fetch him!”
“Free or tied?” It was one of those stupid questions you don’t realise is stupid until it’s already left your mouth.
“Well he is the premier boy hostage…can’t have him betray his own name, now can we?”
“Suppose not.”
I dropped down. The dark purple of my own armoured suit seemed brightly coloured compared to his, as did my personality to his; he wasn’t happy I was there. I was so used to incessantly smiling man that I forgot most people don’t smile twenty-four hours a day.
He shot me a warning look, the “who the hell are you and what are you doing here and you better make it fast” kind of look.
I sighed, “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Your presence is requested,” I looked back to see J was furious, “I mean, your presence is demanded,” I looked back again, same face. “Sorry, your presence is being forced, at a little get-together. So come with me and we won’t have any problems.”
He arched an eye brow, “…you’re kidding right?”
“Nightwing?”
“Yeah…”
“I kid you not.”
“Who’s asking?”
“Jok—” Before I could finish my sentence the kid punched me point blank. I suppose he’s not as clean a fighter as Bruce is. No worries. I shot him an uppercut as I slowly rose from the ground, deciding a few good rounds (minus lchip powers) was in order. Nice night out of town, my arse. We fought for a bit, and I will say this—the kid has talent. He would’ve made a wonderful agent. But it’s hard to win a fight with someone that is part, for lack of a better word, machine. I had him down in ten minutes. Not the best track record, but J was happy with the results.
“Perfect, perfect. Make sure he’s out for a while. We’ve more guests to invite.”
_____
Four trips and three guests later, our guest list had acquired Batgirl, Red Robin, and a very disgruntled Oracle. According to J, she was not to be on the guest list originally. His reaction to her being with Batgirl was: “I’ve had all the fun I possibly could with her…I mean what’s funnier than putting wheels on a former bat? She should be thankful! I mean, I’ve given her the greatest gift! She gets to sit around doing nothing forever…”
It was four trips because we had to stop at a store. Apparently something that Harley had said before she was to be “killed” got J to crave lollipops. Our next stop was the current “boy hostage.” This was to be a bit tricky seeing as he was probably with Bruce, it wouldn’t be easy to remove him without having to tangle with father first.
When we found Robin, he was chasing one of the men involved in robbing the first national bank in Gotham. My first thought was, a robbery isn’t going to be your biggest worry tonight, Bruce. I wanted to tip him off somehow. Somehow never came to me though and I trudged on like a goddamn lackey. But at that point, Tetch’s device had successfully infiltrated the lchip’s central area. Anything, anyone the Joker touches turns to work for him…except Bruce. Robin turned out to be the easiest to snatch of them all. A quick sneak attack, pressure to all the right areas and he was out cold in seconds. I guess good help got progressively harder to find after Black and blue grew up.
The roof of the factory looked like someone had shot a clown and his insides exploded everywhere. J seemed to like it though, so that meant everyone liked it. So far no one was killed and I was getting a bit antsy. I mean, that was his thing right? I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. And this whole situation was becoming worse and worse. I was getting very heated; the kind of heated a computer gets when left on in hundred degree weather. If he uses me more, he’s going to kill me. I need to cool down.
He had me get a school bus onto the roof. (It seemed out of place to me as well.) Then, one by one, he had me tie down the chairs they were all tied to onto the top of the school bus until they were side by side facing the street.
“Splendid…now we only need one more thing and then we can start the party!”
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Part three! another in the works...
Part Three: If the Hat Fits…Steal It
By the time it was over, I made sure he didn’t remember anything had happened. And right as we were about to escape, a door appeared at the north wall, Harley standing in its frame.
“Come on you two, he’s waitin’…”
“Harley, baby! What’s all this about? Is it because I threw out the kids? We can get ‘em back, no questions asked! Just stop this nonsense…” She put her face nearly two inches from his, and he smiled. “…I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” then in a smaller voice he said, “maybe just torture and kill you.”
“Move along.” She said in a tone that didn’t seem like herself; even I could tell. But I couldn’t tell what was wrong with her, though it was obviously bothering Joker. Seems he doesn’t take too well to being ignored by the one person who, well never ignores him.
“WHAT?! You dare defy me?! Why you little harlot…when I get my—“
I whispered to him, “Shush. Let’s find out what’s going on first…” He stopped mid sentence, and began a new act. Hanging his head low, he walked on along my side, as we were led into a room covered with naked mannequins, with only hats resting atop their plastic and bald heads.
“Good evening, Joker. Good evening, Myst.” A voice spoke smoothly, calmly, “A spot of tea, perhaps?”
Emerging from the shadows was a tiny man, dressed in green with a very large top hat and a card stuck in the brim of it. The look of rage and shock on Joker was as amusing as the man’s size. He was the one who had kidnapped us? I’m surely losing my touch.
“Allow me to introduce myself, as this would be our first acquaintance, Myst. My name is Jervis Tetch, better known as the Mad Hatter.”
Obsessive compulsive, childlike tendencies, obsessed with hats, mind control—he was an easy read.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mr. Tetch?” I answered, playing to his tune.
“How pleasantly you speak; makes your future look less bleak. Though, sadly I must state, you’ll not like your imminent fate.” The man spoke in rhymes…rhymes. Though he was speaking like that, he wasn’t what worried me. The elevated dopamine levels, rushing endorphins—Joker was going to do something, and someone wasn’t going to live. Stall, M, stall. Get him to talk about his plans…
“What is this fate you speak of, dear Mr. Tetch?”
“Jervis, to you darling. Your disposition almost makes me regret what I’ve planned for you.” He began to walk around, picking up a few hats looking them over, as it seemed he had done a hundred times prior, as we stood arms tied, being held by women dressed in strange leotards. “You see, I had learned of you and your abilities through a friend, yes, a “friend” and was completely impressed. The handling with minds you have, the control, the brilliance of it all, intrigued me so. Yes, indeed.” J loosened up, looking almost eager to hear my story, as told by the pixie hat man. Maybe he really was…probably not. “Once I realised that your potential was…untapped, I knew I had to have it.” Tetch then walked up to me, eyes beaming at me, like a child’s. “And that was when this wonderful plan was born in my brilliant mind!”
One thing I didn’t understand. “So what does Joker have to do with this?”
Tetch put on an aggravated face, as he walked up to J, the pale man staring down at him with such passionate loathing. “I had recruited the clown’s lady to fetch you for me, as she was easiest to manipulate, even before putting a device on her.” He shot a glance to the now blood boiling clown, “Think of it as revenge for when you stole my devices and used them on me!” “Anyway, when she returned, she not only had you, but the jester as well. Seems that even in with a mind control device, she cannot separate herself from him. Can’t see why, really… Regardless, I would’ve gotten rid of him, until another bright idea worked its way to me!”
“Oh, Jervis old boy, you’re not really my type, you know…HAHAHA.”
The pixie then kicked J’s leg, forcing him to fall over, “No, I figured who better to keep her busy than you? One story of yours alone takes a good hour, least it did in Arkham. I knew you’d keep her around long enough so that I could finish my newest invention. A most personal invention that not even you, clown man, could conjure up! Haha! It’s sitting right in my pocket and attaches to the neck. By the time we’re through, the power of you, my dear Myst, will also be the power of the Mad Hatter! So, ha! Ha! Ha!”
Almost foaming at the mouth, J scowled at Tetch, “You’re a lunatic, you know? They say I’m crazy?! Look at fancy fedora pixie man! HAHAHAHA. You honestly believe that you could two time me? And insult the intelligence of ol’ Grey Eyes here? HAHAHAHA. You’re a funnier lad than I recall, Jervie boy! HAHAHAHAHA.”
Tetch’s face twisted into a grimace, and his large and overbearing teeth rubbed against each other. “You all will never understand how my brilliant mind works!”
J whipped his head around, kicking the woman holding him and knocking her unconscious in an instant. I did the same, unfortunately; it was either that or have wonderland man take control of me with his device. I saw J run to the Mad Hatter and begin to beat him, as I fought off the rest of the henchwomen.
I thought I had them all down, or at least a moment before the next one got up; I didn’t want to use my powers carelessly. I looked to find him, and felt someone grab my neck. Instinctively, I flipped them over only to find that it was him…and that the Hatter’s device was now on me. I dropped down to the floor and felt the waves of the device try to latch onto me, only a few did; I could still control a good portion of my actions.
He put Tetch’s hat on and said, “You know what they say; if the hat fits…steal it and wear it…and create chaos! See, sweets, our history will be fascinating, unleveled, nefarious! HAHAHAHAHAHA.”
By the time it was over, I made sure he didn’t remember anything had happened. And right as we were about to escape, a door appeared at the north wall, Harley standing in its frame.
“Come on you two, he’s waitin’…”
“Harley, baby! What’s all this about? Is it because I threw out the kids? We can get ‘em back, no questions asked! Just stop this nonsense…” She put her face nearly two inches from his, and he smiled. “…I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” then in a smaller voice he said, “maybe just torture and kill you.”
“Move along.” She said in a tone that didn’t seem like herself; even I could tell. But I couldn’t tell what was wrong with her, though it was obviously bothering Joker. Seems he doesn’t take too well to being ignored by the one person who, well never ignores him.
“WHAT?! You dare defy me?! Why you little harlot…when I get my—“
I whispered to him, “Shush. Let’s find out what’s going on first…” He stopped mid sentence, and began a new act. Hanging his head low, he walked on along my side, as we were led into a room covered with naked mannequins, with only hats resting atop their plastic and bald heads.
“Good evening, Joker. Good evening, Myst.” A voice spoke smoothly, calmly, “A spot of tea, perhaps?”
Emerging from the shadows was a tiny man, dressed in green with a very large top hat and a card stuck in the brim of it. The look of rage and shock on Joker was as amusing as the man’s size. He was the one who had kidnapped us? I’m surely losing my touch.
“Allow me to introduce myself, as this would be our first acquaintance, Myst. My name is Jervis Tetch, better known as the Mad Hatter.”
Obsessive compulsive, childlike tendencies, obsessed with hats, mind control—he was an easy read.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mr. Tetch?” I answered, playing to his tune.
“How pleasantly you speak; makes your future look less bleak. Though, sadly I must state, you’ll not like your imminent fate.” The man spoke in rhymes…rhymes. Though he was speaking like that, he wasn’t what worried me. The elevated dopamine levels, rushing endorphins—Joker was going to do something, and someone wasn’t going to live. Stall, M, stall. Get him to talk about his plans…
“What is this fate you speak of, dear Mr. Tetch?”
“Jervis, to you darling. Your disposition almost makes me regret what I’ve planned for you.” He began to walk around, picking up a few hats looking them over, as it seemed he had done a hundred times prior, as we stood arms tied, being held by women dressed in strange leotards. “You see, I had learned of you and your abilities through a friend, yes, a “friend” and was completely impressed. The handling with minds you have, the control, the brilliance of it all, intrigued me so. Yes, indeed.” J loosened up, looking almost eager to hear my story, as told by the pixie hat man. Maybe he really was…probably not. “Once I realised that your potential was…untapped, I knew I had to have it.” Tetch then walked up to me, eyes beaming at me, like a child’s. “And that was when this wonderful plan was born in my brilliant mind!”
One thing I didn’t understand. “So what does Joker have to do with this?”
Tetch put on an aggravated face, as he walked up to J, the pale man staring down at him with such passionate loathing. “I had recruited the clown’s lady to fetch you for me, as she was easiest to manipulate, even before putting a device on her.” He shot a glance to the now blood boiling clown, “Think of it as revenge for when you stole my devices and used them on me!” “Anyway, when she returned, she not only had you, but the jester as well. Seems that even in with a mind control device, she cannot separate herself from him. Can’t see why, really… Regardless, I would’ve gotten rid of him, until another bright idea worked its way to me!”
“Oh, Jervis old boy, you’re not really my type, you know…HAHAHA.”
The pixie then kicked J’s leg, forcing him to fall over, “No, I figured who better to keep her busy than you? One story of yours alone takes a good hour, least it did in Arkham. I knew you’d keep her around long enough so that I could finish my newest invention. A most personal invention that not even you, clown man, could conjure up! Haha! It’s sitting right in my pocket and attaches to the neck. By the time we’re through, the power of you, my dear Myst, will also be the power of the Mad Hatter! So, ha! Ha! Ha!”
Almost foaming at the mouth, J scowled at Tetch, “You’re a lunatic, you know? They say I’m crazy?! Look at fancy fedora pixie man! HAHAHAHA. You honestly believe that you could two time me? And insult the intelligence of ol’ Grey Eyes here? HAHAHAHA. You’re a funnier lad than I recall, Jervie boy! HAHAHAHAHA.”
Tetch’s face twisted into a grimace, and his large and overbearing teeth rubbed against each other. “You all will never understand how my brilliant mind works!”
J whipped his head around, kicking the woman holding him and knocking her unconscious in an instant. I did the same, unfortunately; it was either that or have wonderland man take control of me with his device. I saw J run to the Mad Hatter and begin to beat him, as I fought off the rest of the henchwomen.
I thought I had them all down, or at least a moment before the next one got up; I didn’t want to use my powers carelessly. I looked to find him, and felt someone grab my neck. Instinctively, I flipped them over only to find that it was him…and that the Hatter’s device was now on me. I dropped down to the floor and felt the waves of the device try to latch onto me, only a few did; I could still control a good portion of my actions.
He put Tetch’s hat on and said, “You know what they say; if the hat fits…steal it and wear it…and create chaos! See, sweets, our history will be fascinating, unleveled, nefarious! HAHAHAHAHAHA.”
tricks and reasons, love with seasons (pt. 2 of my j story!)
Part Two: The Pocket Aces
My second encounter with him was less brief. In fact, it couldn’t have been more lengthy, or strange for that matter. But it was when I had the opportunity to delve into the chambers of Gotham’s, and possibly the world’s, finest criminal mastermind—somewhat. As troubling a case as Bruce was, Joker was worse. So what I found in him was not memory, but personality or more appropriately, personalities. But I’ll get into that bit later.
I was in the mansion that I had built solely for diversion purposes; living a double life isn’t always exciting and dangerous, it’s rather annoying at times. I have the lchip in me to blame for that, but the one thing that is “good” about it, is that whenever my body feels threatened, it automatically puts my suit on. I’m not sure if Starr had worked that in purposely or if it recognizes that itself; either way, it was a blessing in disguise. I felt the suit attaching to my body, as I felt the small arms slink around my neck and mouth, and my last thought was, and I kid you not, how in hell did I not hear them coming?
______
The room was dimly lit when I awoke, feeling a tightness on my wrists and ankles. Tied to a chair…did they not know who I was—or what I’m capable of? As groggy as I felt, I could feel the lchip was still in place, as was my suit, so it would take all of 0.6 seconds to escape.
“Awake, finally.” I turned to see who was speaking, but because of the lighting and his positioning, his because it was a male voice, I couldn’t tell. All I could see was a pair of white and black dress shoes, pinstriped purple pants and arm sleeves, and a brush of jade hair. No face, and I knew it was him. And we were both tied up. All that was missing was why.
“Now we can both try to think of a way to get out.” His crimson lips stretched from ear to ear, eyes green and beaming like a cat’s eyes in a dark alley.
I didn’t answer.
“Oh, toots, not talking to me isn’t going to get you out of this. Our best bet is to work together.”
Still no answer.
“Look, I know you’re a friend of the Bat, but I’m willing to overlook that little detail so that we could get out of here!”
“Who did this?”
“Hu-ooh, that’s the funny part. At least, it’s funny for now…until I get my hands on her.”
That was probably the most direct answer I’d get out of him. So I peeked.
“It was…your girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend...that girl’s got a bullet waiting for her when I get out of here. Say, how did you say you knew that?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, I like you,” he giggled, “I like you a lot. In fact, I feel comfortable around you. I haven’t felt like this about anyone since…well, since Harley changed.”
One scan showed that he was lying. Another showed that he was telling the truth. I stayed tied up, figuring he’d talk more if he didn’t know I could escape so easily. I listened.
“She changed?”
“Oh, yes. I mean look at me! Chained and tied like a poor defenseless animal…she abuses me, you know; hides it so well under that false lovey attitude toward me. Clever one, she is…she’s got you all, even the Bat, fooled.”
He began to sob, and it all looked so real, to the point that if I couldn’t read his body language and mind, I would’ve believed him. But I played along, all the while figuring that he might slip a little truth into there. That was my first mistake.
His words were vivid and painted with perfection, that not even a best-selling author could top his impromptu story. I was genuinely impressed. And even though his mind said that he was speaking the truth, I knew it was all a lie. I fancied myself his new match to beat. True, his obsession and long history with Bruce proved stronger, but I figured my abilities could work better. Second mistake.
As I tried to see the memories in his mind, in between the words that he spoke, I felt that familiar twist of pain; the one I get when I try with Bruce, the electric and sockets…it was very hard to see much of anything. But I kept with it. The only constant “memory” was that of a bat, and a fleeting one of red and black and a painted face. I wanted more, though, I wanted to know. He was the first person that I couldn’t read, that I couldn’t figure out. Third mistake.
“And so, the last memory I have of her is knocking me out cold with her hammer.”
“Sweetheart, you’re quite the storyteller.” I broke out of the chair and walked over to him, stroking his cheek lightly. “But you’re going to have to tell the stories to someone that can’t tell when you’re lying.”
He arched an eyebrow and smiled at me. “So you’re not going to let me free?”
“No.”
“But that’s not fair! What happened to honour among captives?! Have you no heart?!” He could tell I was unimpressed. But he continued and hung his head low “…I only told you that story because I was afraid to tell you the truth…”
Choosing to stay after that was the last mistake I made…I stopped counting from then on. Telling myself that I knew what I was doing…knew that he was using me, was the only thing I had that set me apart from Harley. Or at least I thought it was. I gave him a questioning glance, telling him to continue and of course, since it was the difference between escaping or staying, he did.
“The truth is I can’t remember much of anything. And honestly, I don’t want to anymore. What’s the point, really? Inventing history is far more exciting than recording it, don’t you think, sweets?”
“I can’t remember, either…”
“See, you and I are not very different, doll. We can create our own histories. Make them incredible, enchanting, hilarious even! However we want! What say you join me, hmm?”
Every time I try to remember my past, it comes back differently. That was the pocket ace. That was when he won the game. And that was when I realised how much I wanted him. The room didn’t have a door that we could see; I knew that he would need me to exit, so I untied him, but not before playing a trick of my own.
Controlling minds isn’t my favourite thing to do, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion, and that was a rare occurrence in itself, that I couldn’t help myself. And so I used him. Raw, skin to skin, I wanted to taste the poison that lived inside of him because to me it was more like a drug, and I wanted my fix. We were both apathetic souls, cold and emotionless, but for a moment I felt like we canceled each other out and something beautiful occurred. That was my pocket ace.
My second encounter with him was less brief. In fact, it couldn’t have been more lengthy, or strange for that matter. But it was when I had the opportunity to delve into the chambers of Gotham’s, and possibly the world’s, finest criminal mastermind—somewhat. As troubling a case as Bruce was, Joker was worse. So what I found in him was not memory, but personality or more appropriately, personalities. But I’ll get into that bit later.
I was in the mansion that I had built solely for diversion purposes; living a double life isn’t always exciting and dangerous, it’s rather annoying at times. I have the lchip in me to blame for that, but the one thing that is “good” about it, is that whenever my body feels threatened, it automatically puts my suit on. I’m not sure if Starr had worked that in purposely or if it recognizes that itself; either way, it was a blessing in disguise. I felt the suit attaching to my body, as I felt the small arms slink around my neck and mouth, and my last thought was, and I kid you not, how in hell did I not hear them coming?
______
The room was dimly lit when I awoke, feeling a tightness on my wrists and ankles. Tied to a chair…did they not know who I was—or what I’m capable of? As groggy as I felt, I could feel the lchip was still in place, as was my suit, so it would take all of 0.6 seconds to escape.
“Awake, finally.” I turned to see who was speaking, but because of the lighting and his positioning, his because it was a male voice, I couldn’t tell. All I could see was a pair of white and black dress shoes, pinstriped purple pants and arm sleeves, and a brush of jade hair. No face, and I knew it was him. And we were both tied up. All that was missing was why.
“Now we can both try to think of a way to get out.” His crimson lips stretched from ear to ear, eyes green and beaming like a cat’s eyes in a dark alley.
I didn’t answer.
“Oh, toots, not talking to me isn’t going to get you out of this. Our best bet is to work together.”
Still no answer.
“Look, I know you’re a friend of the Bat, but I’m willing to overlook that little detail so that we could get out of here!”
“Who did this?”
“Hu-ooh, that’s the funny part. At least, it’s funny for now…until I get my hands on her.”
That was probably the most direct answer I’d get out of him. So I peeked.
“It was…your girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend...that girl’s got a bullet waiting for her when I get out of here. Say, how did you say you knew that?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, I like you,” he giggled, “I like you a lot. In fact, I feel comfortable around you. I haven’t felt like this about anyone since…well, since Harley changed.”
One scan showed that he was lying. Another showed that he was telling the truth. I stayed tied up, figuring he’d talk more if he didn’t know I could escape so easily. I listened.
“She changed?”
“Oh, yes. I mean look at me! Chained and tied like a poor defenseless animal…she abuses me, you know; hides it so well under that false lovey attitude toward me. Clever one, she is…she’s got you all, even the Bat, fooled.”
He began to sob, and it all looked so real, to the point that if I couldn’t read his body language and mind, I would’ve believed him. But I played along, all the while figuring that he might slip a little truth into there. That was my first mistake.
His words were vivid and painted with perfection, that not even a best-selling author could top his impromptu story. I was genuinely impressed. And even though his mind said that he was speaking the truth, I knew it was all a lie. I fancied myself his new match to beat. True, his obsession and long history with Bruce proved stronger, but I figured my abilities could work better. Second mistake.
As I tried to see the memories in his mind, in between the words that he spoke, I felt that familiar twist of pain; the one I get when I try with Bruce, the electric and sockets…it was very hard to see much of anything. But I kept with it. The only constant “memory” was that of a bat, and a fleeting one of red and black and a painted face. I wanted more, though, I wanted to know. He was the first person that I couldn’t read, that I couldn’t figure out. Third mistake.
“And so, the last memory I have of her is knocking me out cold with her hammer.”
“Sweetheart, you’re quite the storyteller.” I broke out of the chair and walked over to him, stroking his cheek lightly. “But you’re going to have to tell the stories to someone that can’t tell when you’re lying.”
He arched an eyebrow and smiled at me. “So you’re not going to let me free?”
“No.”
“But that’s not fair! What happened to honour among captives?! Have you no heart?!” He could tell I was unimpressed. But he continued and hung his head low “…I only told you that story because I was afraid to tell you the truth…”
Choosing to stay after that was the last mistake I made…I stopped counting from then on. Telling myself that I knew what I was doing…knew that he was using me, was the only thing I had that set me apart from Harley. Or at least I thought it was. I gave him a questioning glance, telling him to continue and of course, since it was the difference between escaping or staying, he did.
“The truth is I can’t remember much of anything. And honestly, I don’t want to anymore. What’s the point, really? Inventing history is far more exciting than recording it, don’t you think, sweets?”
“I can’t remember, either…”
“See, you and I are not very different, doll. We can create our own histories. Make them incredible, enchanting, hilarious even! However we want! What say you join me, hmm?”
Every time I try to remember my past, it comes back differently. That was the pocket ace. That was when he won the game. And that was when I realised how much I wanted him. The room didn’t have a door that we could see; I knew that he would need me to exit, so I untied him, but not before playing a trick of my own.
Controlling minds isn’t my favourite thing to do, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion, and that was a rare occurrence in itself, that I couldn’t help myself. And so I used him. Raw, skin to skin, I wanted to taste the poison that lived inside of him because to me it was more like a drug, and I wanted my fix. We were both apathetic souls, cold and emotionless, but for a moment I felt like we canceled each other out and something beautiful occurred. That was my pocket ace.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Unpolished part of a three(?) part story...
Part One: First Dose
My first encounter with him was brief. It was typical and ordinary, yet classic and tasteful, like a little black dress draped across a curvy vixen. It didn’t seem important at all, that night, and maybe it still isn’t. I can only tell you what I feel, and keep in mind that isn’t always fact. But then again, what is?
I was in town on business—well, sort of. I needed something from a friend. To be honest I can’t recall exactly what it was, but that’s not the point. Bruce, and I call him that mainly because I don’t like to call him his other name, was finishing up with him, taking him away to Arkham to put him and his obsessive “girlfriend” away. At that point, I didn’t know much about her, or the relationship, or him really. So at that point, I couldn’t understand why she was so passive and with no question simply allowed him to do as he pleased, even if that meant harming her which it did on many occasions. He was controlling, influential, omnipotent—a one man show. Those were the only excuses I could find for her, and for me, to put my machine mind to rest.
Of course, these were things that I had only heard of, and never actually witnessed until that night…sort of. By “sort of” I mean that I hadn’t seen him do anything to her or to anyone because by the time I had arrived, Brucey already had them…I’ll say apprehended, to word it nicely. It was quite a spectacle, seems they both were up to their classic ways. Him with the henchmen and senseless yet humourous quips, Bruce with his upside down tie-ups, leaving them to sway in the wind for a bit before he took them in himself. I suppose he was one of those personal calls, the ones that you’ve got to do yourself. I could only make assumptions, really. But I’ll admit that I did peek a bit into B, and his mind had a very different story to tell. Not his own story; that was an area even I was afraid to touch upon. Every time I’d get close to it, I’d get a surge of pain to my temples, the kind you get when you stick a steel needle into a plug socket. He felt that the countless men with painted faces and pistols, gal at his right hand, old jokes exposed down his sleeve, that they were a diversion, that he had a bigger plan as he always did. Again, this was all new to me; could very well be the wild imagination of an amnestic, outlandish, android type.
I followed as Bruce dragged in the poor thing. He seemed so thin, so pallid, so lanky. It was quite hard to believe that this man could be such a powerful criminal; a master of his craft, the Clown King of Crime, if you will. It made him all the more alluring. I helped with the girl, holding her handcuffed hands, as Bruce held his, walking through the cracking powdered white halls that reeked of that nauseating hospital smell. I never much liked asylums…Anyway, at one point, he fell down to his knees. I knew it was purposely done; the waves in his mind easily showed it, but the others couldn’t tell as was proven when she shrieked in fear—actual fear, for his safety. He twisted his neck to look back at me, emerald eyes glittering in the faint lights, and then he did something so pure, so true, so...furtive. He smiled.
My first encounter with him was brief. It was typical and ordinary, yet classic and tasteful, like a little black dress draped across a curvy vixen. It didn’t seem important at all, that night, and maybe it still isn’t. I can only tell you what I feel, and keep in mind that isn’t always fact. But then again, what is?
I was in town on business—well, sort of. I needed something from a friend. To be honest I can’t recall exactly what it was, but that’s not the point. Bruce, and I call him that mainly because I don’t like to call him his other name, was finishing up with him, taking him away to Arkham to put him and his obsessive “girlfriend” away. At that point, I didn’t know much about her, or the relationship, or him really. So at that point, I couldn’t understand why she was so passive and with no question simply allowed him to do as he pleased, even if that meant harming her which it did on many occasions. He was controlling, influential, omnipotent—a one man show. Those were the only excuses I could find for her, and for me, to put my machine mind to rest.
Of course, these were things that I had only heard of, and never actually witnessed until that night…sort of. By “sort of” I mean that I hadn’t seen him do anything to her or to anyone because by the time I had arrived, Brucey already had them…I’ll say apprehended, to word it nicely. It was quite a spectacle, seems they both were up to their classic ways. Him with the henchmen and senseless yet humourous quips, Bruce with his upside down tie-ups, leaving them to sway in the wind for a bit before he took them in himself. I suppose he was one of those personal calls, the ones that you’ve got to do yourself. I could only make assumptions, really. But I’ll admit that I did peek a bit into B, and his mind had a very different story to tell. Not his own story; that was an area even I was afraid to touch upon. Every time I’d get close to it, I’d get a surge of pain to my temples, the kind you get when you stick a steel needle into a plug socket. He felt that the countless men with painted faces and pistols, gal at his right hand, old jokes exposed down his sleeve, that they were a diversion, that he had a bigger plan as he always did. Again, this was all new to me; could very well be the wild imagination of an amnestic, outlandish, android type.
I followed as Bruce dragged in the poor thing. He seemed so thin, so pallid, so lanky. It was quite hard to believe that this man could be such a powerful criminal; a master of his craft, the Clown King of Crime, if you will. It made him all the more alluring. I helped with the girl, holding her handcuffed hands, as Bruce held his, walking through the cracking powdered white halls that reeked of that nauseating hospital smell. I never much liked asylums…Anyway, at one point, he fell down to his knees. I knew it was purposely done; the waves in his mind easily showed it, but the others couldn’t tell as was proven when she shrieked in fear—actual fear, for his safety. He twisted his neck to look back at me, emerald eyes glittering in the faint lights, and then he did something so pure, so true, so...furtive. He smiled.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Myst teaser
As if it'll really tease anyone. Unpolished excerpt from my doomed MichaelTurnerdreamlike story.
“Thank you.”
I came to on the lab table, tubes wired to me, ones that were attached to random machines I never thought to ask about.
I realised I could speak as soon as I heard my voice, “For what?”
“You saved my life.” He stopped there, then probably persuaded by my confused expression continued on, “You took the lchip out of me. It was killing me at a very rapid pace, so if you hadn’t done that, I would be dead right now…so thank you.”
“Oh, well, um, you’re welcome I suppose. So why do I have more tubes in me right now than any person under 80 should ever have?”
He stood tinkering with some contraption at his work table. He then turned to look at me, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He looked as tired and worn as I felt. Whatever this was it certainly was no great shakes.
“Well, there was a bit of a complication…one that I hadn’t counted on. Now, don’t be afraid.” His eyes grew fearful and he started toward me, inching slowly with his hand outstretched, reaching for my own.
“You know me better than that, Lex. Just say it.” I was in no mood for games. My body felt sore, like there was a great pressure on my bones, the kind braces exert on teeth. I tried not to move much, but that seemed to make it worse, so I just sat up.
“Mercedes, I don’t know how you’re alive…you’re supposed to be dead.”
“Thank you.”
I came to on the lab table, tubes wired to me, ones that were attached to random machines I never thought to ask about.
I realised I could speak as soon as I heard my voice, “For what?”
“You saved my life.” He stopped there, then probably persuaded by my confused expression continued on, “You took the lchip out of me. It was killing me at a very rapid pace, so if you hadn’t done that, I would be dead right now…so thank you.”
“Oh, well, um, you’re welcome I suppose. So why do I have more tubes in me right now than any person under 80 should ever have?”
He stood tinkering with some contraption at his work table. He then turned to look at me, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He looked as tired and worn as I felt. Whatever this was it certainly was no great shakes.
“Well, there was a bit of a complication…one that I hadn’t counted on. Now, don’t be afraid.” His eyes grew fearful and he started toward me, inching slowly with his hand outstretched, reaching for my own.
“You know me better than that, Lex. Just say it.” I was in no mood for games. My body felt sore, like there was a great pressure on my bones, the kind braces exert on teeth. I tried not to move much, but that seemed to make it worse, so I just sat up.
“Mercedes, I don’t know how you’re alive…you’re supposed to be dead.”
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