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Post by Joker on Oct 18, 2012 20:14:07 GMT -5
…How you like me now, you little…
Blanched white eyelids opened wide and green emerald eyes stared into the cracked crevices of a ceiling. The Joker had fallen asleep, he was dreaming about something, but he could no longer remember what it was. He blinked his eyes twice, he rarely ever went to sleep – rumors floated around the underground community that he NEVER slept – people who knew him a little better knew that he did, they just didn’t know when. He slept about twice a week when his body could no longer be overridden with sugar, caffeine and whatever else he did to himself to keep awake, and when it happened, it was like he randomly was diagnosed with narcolepsy. Fortunately for him, he’s learned to time himself to be inside his hideout when he knew sleep would be inevitable.
He turned his head to the side and found the small bed side table, his eyes slowly roamed the top of it to find the clock – it was 3:06 AM. As good a time as any to call it morning. He was about to leap and bound himself out of the bed until he heard a soft snore to the other side of him. The Joker inhaled sharply and held his breath as he slowly careened his head to the side. It wasn’t that he wanted to know who was lying next to him; it was that he was hoping beyond all hope that it wasn’t who it always was that dared to lay next to him.
Harley.
Her bright blonde hair was the first thing he saw in the dimly moonlit room. He let out his breath exasperatingly. His “morning” had all ready got off on the wrong foot and he rolled himself out of bed like a lump of coal and shuffled outside of the room. In the darkness of the hideout’s living room he groped his hand on the wall and found the switch and turned it on. The lights flickered and came on and illuminated two sleeping hyenas in the living room with pieces of flesh, blood and bone around their snouts from the clown’s latest victim and playmate.
The Joker yawned in their general direction and began walking along to find the kitchen. As he walked down the corridor, he found a full length mirror and took a long look at himself. His no longer white wife beater and his purple plaid pajama pants hung comfortably from his white flesh, his hair was in a disarray, which he matted down into place and then gave himself a seductive wink in the mirror, “You handsome devil.” He said a loud and then continued on towards the kitchen.
He turned the light on in there and started ransacking the cabinets for any sugary breakfast confection that would reach his hand first. He couldn’t start his day without breakfast, he always needed to be eating, he naturally had a fast acting metabolism and with all the non-sleeping and running around he did, his food intake was virtually limitless. He found himself a nice box of chocolate marshmallow cereal and began to pour half the box into a big bowl of milk he found in the fridge. He then found a plastic spoon in a box filled with plastic utensils and sat himself down to eat his breakfast.
Chewing, swallowing, chewing, swallowing, his foot began to shake with his antsy-ness brought on by the quiet mundanely normal situation he found himself in. Immediately he reached over for the radio that sat on top of table counter, he needed something to get his mind off the itching silence. He turned it on to find that it was already stationed on one of his favorite radio channels, the oldies station.
“Non, je ne regrette rien
Car ma vie, car mes joies
Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi”
Edith Piaf finished her song and there was a pause before the next song began.
“You talk of sweeties, bashful sweeties,
I got one of those,
Oh, he’s handsome as can be,
But he worries me;”
Helen Kane’s high intoned inflections pricked his ears like hard tiny stones. Much like a certain person he knew who shared the same unfortunate voice defects. He frowned and shut the radio off. He got up from his seat, leaving a bunch of soggy cereal at the table and went back towards the bedroom. Once he reached the door he pushed it open and glared his green laser beam eyes at the still sleeping form in the bed. His fists were clenched, his teeth were grinding; he couldn’t enjoy his cereal, his morning, his anything because SHE was always the one to get in the way.
He stared at her right outside the doorframe of the room. Thoughts fluttering in and out of his head.
…hit her…
…strangle her…
…skin her alive and make her watch…
He marched into the room, his fists raised, his adrenaline rushing, and right when he was about to lay the first blow. Something stopped him, another thought; he let his heart slow, his fists get undone and he trained his feet towards her side of the bedroom. He began opening all of her drawers, boxes, and closet doors trifling through her things.
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Post by harley on Oct 27, 2012 7:18:10 GMT -5
Harley had been sleeping rather peacefully at least until some noise caught her attention. At first her body had tensed up, her fingers into the sheets, white knuckles stared back at her as she’d opened her eyes. Self-preservation, she didn’t want to be hit, but she would be whatever he needed from her, and if that was his punching bag…so be it. Her eyes squeezed shut and she couldn’t help the way her heart sped up in her chest and felt the beginning of a cold sweat start at the base of her neck, which caused a chill down her spine.
As the anger was directed at her, she could feel it, radiating into her body, was that what had woken her up? No remembered the noise she heard from her left, coming from the closet. She wanted to turn and look but instead she merely took another breath to calm herself and tried to ignore it. She heard the small metallic click; it was too faint to be from something Joker owned. She played dumb as though she’d just woken up, it was safer, safer then showing she had any intelligence at all. She hated walking on egg shells never knowing which Mister J, she’d wake up with, but she loved him so she stayed.
‘How many battered wives, do I sound like? Her thoughts filtered through as she slowly sat up, a fake yawn passing her lips as she stretched her arms above her head. She turned her head, her blue eyes taken in what he doing and to what was in his hand. Her eyes went wide and words tumbled out of her parted lips, it was comical the scene. “What are you doing!? That’s mine! Don’t break it!” Pale arms lowering as she pushed herself from the bed, starting to make her way over to him and the small necklace that he had in his grip, it was a small heart shaped locket it held a picture of her niece and her nephew. The picture was outdated by a couple of years, but it still meant something to her, not that she was close with her family anymore. Joker had become her focal point, her drive; he helped shape her into who she was today, the crime aside.
As her eyes swept over the closet, she found that he’d found a camera one he was holding in one hand and locket in the other, and on the floor at his feet was the small, wooden box and it was open, it was special to her, held a lot of meaning. The camera had saved pictures of her family and in the wooden box were odd knickknacks from her life, and the wooden box was from her great grandmother passed down to the girls of her family, she’d kept it, one day maybe passing it to her daughter…maybe. She a small book on a shelf that he’d over looked that book, was well worn and the pages blank, but filled every couple of pages with flowers, long dried out now, but it was hobby she still kept.
She took another step towards him, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and a little curly at the ends from where she’d left it in pigtails. Her face devoid of make up this early in the morning, she still had a sort of natural beauty, but she never saw it. She didn’t she how she was anything special, and she knew she wasn’t. She’d given up her life, her career to be with him and it was never enough. “Baby…what did I do now?” she asked realizing with some foreboding that this, all of this was because she’d disappointed, no angered him again. Her frown only deepened and she stopped coming any closer to him, why did she always seem to never please him?
“I’m sorry” The words came softly from her lips and she dropped her gaze to the ground like a good submissive dog, at least she could take his blows. She got all those cues right but never the bigger ones, the ones where she showed him she could impress him, that she was worthy of being by his side.
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Post by Joker on Oct 29, 2012 18:51:10 GMT -5
A diary, some random pieces of paper with words and drawings scribbled on it, Harlequin romance novels, it was all so predictable. And that simple fact made him angrier as he ran his fingers over her cherished items. One in particular caught his eye, a gleaming locket that twinkled daringly into his eyes. He picked it up, never had he seen it before or saw her wear it, he popped it open to reveal it’s contents as was surprised to find two youthful and happy faces staring back at him. He squinted his eyes to make sure that these weren’t those midgets he had once had as minions, but they weren’t. Harley knew them…intimately. He gritted his teeth and palmed the necklace into his hand and resumed the search, he found a wooden box in her possession and he took it in his hands and shook it around to hear the contents, unsatisfied with what he heard he unceremoniously dropped it to the floor and moved his attention towards a closet.
After rummaging through a stack of clothes he quickly grew frustrated with stacks she had obtained and kept over the years that he began flinging them out from the closet and tossing them behind him. He had spotted another interesting piece of equipment, a camera, it was a bit out of touch with the times, but it was still a handsome looking contraption. Obviously it was well cared for, considering a lot of things usually broke and were lost when placed in her hands. He held the locket and camera in each hand respectively, as a million thoughts hummed into his head. And then he heard the familiar whiney pitch of his girlfriend breaking through the midst of chaos whirling around in his head.
He lifted his head up and stared at her expressionlessly, he hadn’t even heard her rumbling awake from sleep. Her hair fell around her head and the saccharine yellow of it made it appear to glow like a halo as she looked up at him with her hopelessly lost blue eyes. Deep within the bowels of his chest cavity, something tightened, it ached and wriggled and jiggled and tickled inside him, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to bash in Harley’s pretty little face with the camera he had in his hands. Unbeknownst to him, that hand shook with anticipation of a fight, but he caught himself. There were better ways to go about this, much more entertaining ways to skin a cat and to teach a lesson.
“Sorry?” He quizzically echoed back at her. “Why,” He paused, a soft smile spreading to his face, “there is nothing to be sorry about.” In a beat, he was by her side; the camera still clutched his hand a long with the locket. “Well…not yet.” He said darkly as he held up the locket in his hand, and let it dangle around aimlessly. “Is there something that you’re not telling me?” He held the dangling locket closer to her face, letting it swing just an inch from her nose. “Perhaps there is some sort of, I don’t know, secret you’ve kept from me for some time now?” He pulled the locket back up into his palm abruptly. “It’s okay to tell me my dear,” Long pale fingers reached out and wiped a few golden strands of hair from her face and gingerly placed them behind her ear. “I am kind.” He brought her closer to him and he leaned down towards her, his green eyes looking into her blue ones. “Now, why don’t you tell me who these people are?”
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Post by harley on Nov 1, 2012 18:55:49 GMT -5
Her eyes went wide and her body stiffened as he began throwing her things out of the closet, she wasn’t sure what to do, but staying still for the time being seemed to be the best thing to do. Her eyes squeezed shut, although she couldn’t help but peek a little bit as her left eye opened to watch him throw her things, locket still clutched tightly and she couldn’t help the small gasp that passed her lips as he dropped her very old family heirloom, to the ground, where it landed on the clothes and didn’t quite break, but there was a crack that could be heard. She couldn’t help the way her heart seized at the sight of the long crack along the top, slicing through the elaborate set of flowers that adorned both the top and the bottom of the little music box.
The shaking of the hand that held the camera as he looked at her, had her whole body tense, she bowed her head a little bit further, watching the Joker’s shoes as he came towards her. She waited, waited for a blow that never came. She couldn’t help the shiver of fear, which made her body shake in front of him. Her legs weren’t shaking, but her core shook, the bit of fear of the anticipation of pain had traveled up her spine and dug in deep. Her eyes snapped up to his face, as she watched the locket dangle an inch away from her nose, she didn’t reach for it, she didn’t dare. As his finger caressed her cheek, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she tensed. His words, his mockingly twisted words, would forever do her in. He wanted to hurt her, hurt her because she for whatever reason displeased him constantly, she was his black sheep, and yet he kept her around for entertainment? Perhaps. Why was she so mawkish with him, why did she have these foolish feelings of love for this man, who constantly beat her, belittled and so clearly despised her?
Was she broken? Was she looking for love in all the wrong places, or did she feel as though somehow, someway she would fix him, that she could make him love her in return? Or had he played on her insecurities that were so plainly there, no amount of hiding, of lying could hid it?
At his questions she answered, her blue eyes not daring to leave his, even as she felt tears well up in her eyes and the tightening of her chest, and the way her voice wavered, as she swallowed loudly and breathed in deeply to try and center herself and not cry, to not give him another reason to hit her. She had been bad, she had kept them from him, she had thus for lied to him, by not saying anything at all. “M-My…” she licked her lower lip, suddenly find speech hard. “M-my…niece and nephew….I…I was never…very close with Barry…” she trailed off thinking of a way to better explain what she was trying to go tell him. “He’s my brother…and the pictures are of his kids…my niece Jenny and my nephew Nicky…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…Mister J,” she said softly, her voice a bare whisper and a tear sliding down her cheek, touching his thumb as it rested on her cheek.
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Post by Joker on Nov 6, 2012 11:46:12 GMT -5
The Joker’s hand stroked and petted the acid blonde hair of his partner in crime. He wasn’t looking at Harley; his eyes were burning holes into the children’s faces that smiled at him from the golden locket. What he said was true, he hadn’t become mad – visibly – but an eerie sense of determination and concentration stifled his brows. He was a million miles away from where he was, lost in his own thoughts, he had barely registered her unblemished cheek touching his finger until the cool wetness of her tears snapped him into the present.
He turned his face to look at her again. She was so pretty when she cried. But her tears were not going to save her from her intrusion into his life – into his thoughts – into the very look and essence of what he is what he did. And the thought of it seized his mind once more and he roughly grabbed a bushel of her hair from behind her head roughly, “See? That wasn’t so hard was it?” He smiled and let her hair go; he jumped up onto his feet, the camera and locket still in tow and looked into the neon light of the clock on the nightstand. It now read 4 A.M., it was still very early, but the morning light kept away certain flying rodents from prying into his affairs, and this particular caper was personal.
He tapped his foot, thinking, he looked at the locket again, the children in the pictures looked to be about 10 years old, and it has been a few years now since these pictures were taken, now they were prepubescent teens – full of life and awe – willing to do just about the dandiest things to actively get under their parents’ skin. It was perfect. Like a road runner, he rushed over to his side of the room and flung open his closet and began flinging around his own clothing trying to find the right outfit to wear. He looked over his shoulder to find Harley, “What are you just standing there for?” He asked laughingly, “Get dressed! We’re burning daylight – and we have MANY things to do today.” He pulled out a generic plain clothed winter outfit, a dark green sweater with brown slacks and a dark brown overcoat with a matching scarf. He slipped the camera and the locket into his pockets and began shuffling around for some brown dress shoes.
It was obvious that he wanted to appear incognito, though he wasn’t going too much out of his way – putting on peach putty and what not – but just enough to keep most people from turning their heads to look at him. Once he found his shoes and a pair of black socks to boot he looked over again to see Harley, “Find something cute, not that…other…stuff.” He sneered at her wardrobe as he laced his shoes up. Once he was completely dressed and looked at himself thoroughly in the bedroom mirror he looked over at Harley. “Now, where does big ol’ Barry live? I think it’s about time we properly met as a family.”
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Post by harley on Nov 6, 2012 16:38:11 GMT -5
Harley knew as her heart beat erratically in her chest that this was a very serious matter, that she had a right to feel afraid. Mister J, was too calm about this, too lost in his thoughts. She wished for the beating more than whatever he was planning in his head. She knew that look, knew what it meant, whatever happened their lives would change, not hers, but the lives of Jenny and Nicky…would they be killed or tortured or would they be left injured permanently for the rest of their lives because of her?
Why were you so stupid Harley…you should have never kept anything of them…they aren’t part of your life now, they want nothing to do with you…and now look you very well may have damned them all. You choose to be here, this is what you want. [/color] Her eyes slid closed tight as he pulled roughly on a strand of her hair. She felt herself tense up and move to pull away, but she didn’t move, she let herself freeze and she waited listening to his plan, what he wanted her to do. She gave a small gasp and watched as he moved to his part of the closet and started throwing clothes out, his clothes. She couldn’t bring herself to move. Her blue eyes wide and staring at her partner in crime got dressed, pulling on clothes that looked normal and wouldn’t draw too much attention. As he finished getting dressed and telling her to do the same, she moved as if on autopilot pulling her night clothes from her body and slipping into a pair of clothes she hadn’t worn in years, but they still fit, if anything they were a little big, nothing a belt wouldn’t fix. She pulled on a pair of black dress pants, and toed into a pair of black flats, they weren’t the best thing for the cold weather but it would be fine, she didn’t mind the cold so much. Her fingers fixed the clasp on her bra and she was quick to slip on a dark blue sweater, it wasn’t as dark as navy, but it was nice. Over the v neck sweater she pulled on a long black jacket, it was a nice raincoat jacket, but it was warm, and would help against the chill, but wasn’t nearly as bulky as one of those winter jackets. She found a white scarf and slipped it on around her neck. Her fingers brushed her throat and she couldn’t help but wonder had she done this on purpose, had she left those things there subconsciously, knowing one day he’d find it and she’d want her family to pay for the way they forgot all about her, merely because of the man she had fallen in love with. Did she want them to pay for that? She’d wiped at her eyes, no longer crying, but merely resigned to whatever happened, it was her fault, but sometimes…sometimes it was other people’s fault too. She wasn’t always to blame, it wasn’t always her fault; she wasn’t the bad guy. As she moved around him to do her hair, just running a brush through the straight locks, noticing the wavy at the ends thanks to the wetness in the air, she put on her makeup the blue eye shadow matching shirt color, and the eye liner a darker blue outlining her lovely blue eyes and making them pop out in an intriguing sort of way. At his question she turned to him. “He lives with my mother, still I can’t imagine him leaving…he’s always been a dead beat.” She couldn’t help the venom that spilled past her lips, when she spoke of her brother, she’d tried time and time again to get him to shape up to do better and he just wouldn’t, he would blow the money or not spend any of it on his kids. She didn’t like him, you could say she hated him, and she was no longer sure how she felt about him, or anyone else in her family…her mother always telling her how much evil she is, how she’s not good enough and her father, was a sleaze ball, she couldn’t begin to explain her hatred for him.[/blockquote] |
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Post by Joker on Nov 12, 2012 16:53:34 GMT -5
“I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, am I right pumpkin?” He smirked as he intensely watched her with his green glowing eyes, implying that her own father was just as much a loser as her brother than he had recently discovered. He could already imagine the kind of life she lived. An authentic accent as hers’ – it was obvious to see low rental spaces and booze ridden evenings in her past. Perhaps her father hit her mother from time to time, but only because he was so drunk and tired of her not having dinner warmed up when he got back (which was probably around midnight). It was no doubt that his little Harlequin wanted to get out of her destitute living situation but she had no means to do so other than to grow a particularly thick skin.
But besides being your general “bad-ass” tween, somewhere a long the lines she discovered her own sexuality as a key part of manipulation. Soon enough the cycle of violence would come full circle when she pleasantly plopped into his arms on that particularly dull afternoon. He relished every detail of their visit during those patient/doctor days of yore. So naïve she was, she hardly knew what was happening until the house of cards all crashed down on her. It was beautiful, like watching Francis Bacon paint his Figure with Meat.
The Joker looked Harley over, he nodded in approval and grabbed her warm peach hand into his feverishly cold white one. Without a word he proceeded to guide her out of their little hideout that was no more than a studio that sat upon a clown inspired hamburger joint known as Chuckles. Once on the curb he let her hand go and started coasting his eyes about the menagerie of cars that were parked around the block. “We’re looking for a mini van, FYI.” He muttered as he walked along the street passed hybrids, chevys and two seaters. He shook his head in disappointment at the disintegration of the American automobile, it wasn’t so long ago when having giant gas guzzling cars were ala mode. Now all these new age hippies insisted on gas efficiency and space accommodations; who cared about the melting ice caps and the polar bears? At least the global flooding would wipe out at least half the morons on the big blue planet.
Finally, his eyes landing on a navy blue family sized mini van with tinted windows. The Joker leaped and bounded towards it, happy to find the extra bonus of tinted windows. “Jackpot!” He announced loudly and without hesitation curled up a fist and smashed it into the window. The car’s alarm system automatically started bleeting out loudly and he smoothly popped open the car and maneuvered his long arm under the steering wheel and pulled out a blue wire that immediately brought the car to silence. He continued tinkering with the car’s wires and eventually got it to start revving up it’s engine. “All aboard!” He stepped into the driver’s seat and waited for Harley to follow into the passenger’s side.
He buckled himself into the seat and signaled for Harley to do the same, “Safety first,” He remarked as he also angled up his mirrors properly. “Now sweet pea, you’re going to have a very serious task ahead of you.” He spoke to her softly but childishly. “Giving ME directions to your mother’s house.” He began pulling the car out into the street, “Do you think we should have brought her a casserole?” He asked anxiously, “Perhaps a nice bunt cake?”
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Post by harley on Dec 25, 2012 21:44:37 GMT -5
“No, not really.” She answered to him as she felt and watched his eyes gaze over what she’d warn and give her a nod of approval at what she’d picked out. Her fingers tugged at the collar of her sweater that hugged her neck and she wrinkled her nose just a little as she wasn’t used to the clothing that she wore. As his hand curled around her own she found herself hustled out the door with little to no time to grab anything of prized value. She resisted the urge to frown at the fact she didn’t have any of her weapons not even her adored mallet.
As she listened to what sort of car or rather vehicle they were looking for began to casually patrol the parked cars along the streets that lined the way as they walked. She at some points wasn’t even trying to be discrete as she looked behind her and once more back in front of her, her finger nails dragging along the paint of some of the cars they came across, as a small pin was curled between her fingers as she casually keyed people’s cars as she passed. She began digging large ugly marks down the sides of their colorful paint jobs, without a care in the world to consequences of her actions.
As her hand slipped from hers and she brought out of her fun by his voice resounding that he’d found what they were looking for, she merely watched with a broad smile of delight as he curled his fist and broke the window and within moments had the car silent of the loud beeps and howls and instead purring to life under his skillful fingers. Her tongue touched the roof of her mouth as she gave a little click of her tongue before moving swiftly along the front of the car and throwing open the passenger door with reckless abandon as she buckled her seat belt it was moment of these rapidly lucid moments were she seemed so happy, so high as a kite that it was strange to remember just a few moments before in their home she’d been as low as a boat.
His words began to register and her solem face began to crumble in on the absolutely bright eyed glow that she’d had while they’d been out searching for the car, almost as if she seemed to momentarily forget why they wanted the car in the first place. She gave a nod of her head to his words and glanced around them looking at the signs around them. “Take a left on 34th avenue and take it all the way down to West Harpeth and once you go over the bridge of the right you’ll start to head in the area I used to live. It’ll take about fifteen minutes. It’ll be the ugly blue house on the right, 1339 Radenson’s Lane” she told him. As she began to mutely stare out the window having seemed to forgotten he’d asked her question about her mother and cake.
It was strange the way she seemed to be drawing herself inward as if she were trying to come to grips with whatever would happen today, as though she was disconnecting herself from where they would be going. Once they arrived there it wasn’t hard to see the way the home was in desperate need of repairs and upkeep and the way cigarettes littered the lawn and the way the front chain length fence was bent in some areas, this neighborhood was rough to say the least. As they pulled up and walked to the door and rang the bell you’d find a beer bellied over weight man in his early thirties answer the door and he reeked of alcohol and the faint smell of pot but that odor was well inside the house and wafting out to strike them in the face from the open door way. “H-Hey Barry” the docile response came softly from slightly parted red lips, she was afraid of him, that was something new, something she’d not said.
“What are you doing here you bitch, I told you to never come back, we’ve moved on with our lives without you. You made your choice, I’ll make you leave Whoreleen don’t think I won’t”
The harsh words sprang forth, as those red streaked eyes had yet to fully make contact with the pale man who was with her, and as they took in the Joker’s pale skin and wickedly sick grin, he began to get pale in the face.
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