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.