The Banker's Date, part 2

[tinhuviel]

A few hours later, the Joker opened his swollen eyes to a setting sun. He’d slept at least seven hours, and it’d been a hard sleep by the feel of it. He rubbed his matted eyelids and yawned like a lion. Turning over, he grabbed the remote to the television in his room and flicked the screen on. There was gold ole GCN with that ugly blond reporter he’d almost had killed by Gotham’s finest. He was earnestly reporting the kidnapping in broad daylight of prominent GFNB bank manager, Sophia Carteres. The Joker turned up the volume a little more.

“Ms. Carteres, a bank manager at the Gotham First National Bank main branch, is not only well-known for her charitable works, but is also an activist in the Gotham Latino community. Several eyewitness accounts report her abduction this morning by the Joker, who has been at large since his escape from Arkham Asylum last month. If you any knowledge of the whereabouts of Sophia Carteres, please call the number at the bottom of the screen.”

The Joker chuffed at the screen, regretting that Mick Engel survived his hostage joke and seriously contemplating calling the number just for shits and giggles. Instead, though, he crawled out of his crumpled bed and got in the shower. After that, he donned fresh clothes and applied fresh war paint. It was time to go pay a visit to his house guest.

Walking into the living room with his iPod clutched in his left hand, the Joker found Sidney there, watching what looked like a sword and sorcery movie.

“What the hell is that-t?”

“Dunno, boss. I kind of came in half way, but it’s pretty good. It’s about this Irish prince trying to unite the ancient Celtic tribes against their Roman invaders. Lots of mayhem, if you’d care to take a looksee.”

Ducking his head and narrowing his eyes at the TV, the Joker watched for a couple of minutes. “The blond guy with the Padawan braid, is that the leader?”

Surprised that the Joker would know enough about the Star Wars universe to refer to the Prince’s braid as Padawan, Sidney was struck speechless for a minute. One thing about working for the Joker: there was never a dull moment. He finally found his voice and said, “Yeah. He’s pretty good in the role, whoever he is.”

“That’s completeleee unrealistic. The Celts would never follow someone so young and inexperienced. They’d laugh him out of the tribe for being so presumptuous. His sidekick there, the giant with the mustache, should be the leader. Did our new chef tell you about So-pheeee-a?”

“Yep. She’s still in the basement. Hasn’t made a peep. I checked a couple of hours ago and she was sitting on the mattress watching TV and looking a little out of it. Maybe it’s all the money that’s struck her dumb.”

The Joker cackled at this, bending over and slapping one knee. “That’s a riot-t! Betcha anything she’ll try to get me to invest-t the money I stole from her own fucking bank. Guess I’ll have to tell her that that you can’t write checks for large amounts of dynamite, gunpowder, and gasoleeeen. Such items are almost always relegate-ted to cash-only transactions. I’m going down to see her. Enjoy your swords and sandals, Sidney.”

Sidney watched his boss head for the basement door and he turned back to his show. He didn’t care if it was unrealistic, he was enjoying it. And he liked the young prince, even if he was wearing a Padawan braid.

The Joker closed the basement door behind him, locking it and putting the key in his breast pocket. As he descended the stairs, he heard an odd rustling, but nothing else to indicate there was a human being down here. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he surveyed the basement. Dotted all over the floor were piles of cash taken from various bank heists. One pile, located in the far corner of the basement, was considerably larger than any of the others. He didn’t remember it ever being that large. Opposite the money mountain was a large-screen high definition TV, which was also playing the same show Sidney was watching upstairs. Near the TV was a new Serta mattress, which was stolen off the same furniture truck as the TV. Other junk decorated the basement as well: a giant gumball machine, a couple of old 80s arcade games – Ms. Pac-Man and Joust, some lawn chairs, bungee cord (from when the Joker would bungee jump off skyscrapers, thin rope, candelabras, a bevy of costumes and clown masks.

Close to the stairs was a narrow door that led to a tiny half bathroom. The Joker opened the door to see if Sophia was in there. No, nothing but the toilet. Shrugging, the Joker took down the thin rope and moseyed over to the mattress. Sophia was down here. If Sidney said so, she was, because Sidney wouldn’t lie to the Joker. He knew all too well what lying would get him. She was just hiding somewhere, but she’d eventually have to come out. The Joker was patient. Besides, he had work to do to prepare for when Sophia did emerge.

Plopping down on the mattress, the Joker proceeded to watch the sword-n-sorcery show with the faux Celts and their teen leader as he cut four long swaths of rope with a sharp knife. He tied each piece into a slip knot, then set the swaths aside. With the same knife, the Joker gouged out a small hole in each corner of the mattress. While he was working he heard that rustling again. Turning his head this way and that to get a better idea of where it was coming from, he finally pinpointed the source. It was that big mountain of money in the corner of the basement. He smirked.

“Oh Sopheeeeea, come out come out whereverrrr you are,” the Joker sang. He didn’t move or blink his eyes, his focus was so keen on the pile of money, waiting for any little movement. “Come along, Sweet Sophie, it’s time to play,” he continued, his voice taking on a lower, sexier intonation.

As if she could no longer stand his constant stare, Sophie revealed herself. Her head popped out of the top of the money mountain under which she’d buried herself. The Joker began to laugh that manic laugh of his.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Sophia asked. When all she got was another long howl of wild laughter, she raised her voice and shouted. “Why are you fucking laughing at me?!”

“Because, my dear, nothing says ‘banker,’” and the Joker made the quotation sign with this fingers. “Quite like your head poked out of a mountain of money with a hundred dollar bill resting atop your lovely head. You could be the poster child for our crumbling banking system!”

The laughter ensued again as Sophia fought her way out of her money fort. “You’re a dick,” she grumbled. “In addition to being a murderer, robber, and all-round reprobate.”

“You can add kidnapper and molester of bankers to that list.”

Sophia stopped dead in her tracks as the Joker nodded enthusiastically and patted the mattress. “There’s no way…”

“Yes, there is a way. A couple, actualleeee. You can either come over here willingleee orrrr I can bring you over here by forrrce. What’s it gonna be, my little two-dollar bill?”

Sophia broke into a full run toward the stairs, leaping up them two and three at a time, until she was at the door. She began beating and kicking at the door, trying to bust it open, using bit of power she had in her body. But, with one particularly powerful kick, Sophia lost her balance and tumbled town the basement stairs. She landed at the Joker’s feet. He hoisted her up, his hands in her armpits, and he examined her to see if she suffered any major injuries. She seemed fine. Satisfied that nothing was broken, the Joker threw one of Sophia’s arms around his neck and escorted her to the mattress. As he watched the young Prince lead a raid on a Roman base camp, the Joker absently tied the banker to the mattress, using the slip-knotted rope to secure each arm and leg to the holes he’d carved in the corners of the mattress. He barely heard her protests and screams, his interest wasn’t in her at that moment. He was too taken up by battle on the screen. Maybe Sidney was onto something with this show. He’d have to find out the name of it and maybe steal the DVDs sometime.

A commercial break broke the Joker’s concentration and he looked down at his pretty plaything. She was secured firmly to the mattress. The more she struggled, the tighter the ropes around her wrists and ankles became.

“Stop it-t. Stop struggling,” the Joker said flatly. “Stop fighting. The more you move, the more the rope will cut off your cirrrculationnn. Now I don’t care if your blood supply is cut off long enough to turn your pretty hands and feet into vanilla beeeeens, but I’d preferrr it if you remained intact at least for as long as you’re a guest-t in my house. I’m gonna re-loosen the knots, but you need to stop struggling.”

The Joker loosened the knots and Sophia remained utterly still. “Don’t do this,” she said. “Please. I’ll do anything, just let me go.”

“Can’t do that my little pollo loco. I would have preferred yourrr willing participation in the culmination of our date – “

“Date? You’ve got to fucking be kidding me!”

“…..culmination….” the Joker buzzed, then clicked his tongue a couple of time. “You know, of all the women I’ve had anything to with, you’re without a doubt the most ob-nox-xious.”

And he produced a small knife from his pocket, inserting to the mattress beside her head. “Stay right there.” He got up and went over to the TV. Taking his iPod and its USB cable out, he hooked the MP3 player up to the TV. He turned the TV channel away from the young Celtic prince show to an auxiliary channel, and the basement was immediately drowned in music.

“Ah, a favourite,” the Joker said to Sophia. “’Pandemonium’ by Killing Joke. Great for causing…pandemonium, but not so good when you’re in a romantic frame of minnnd-d. Oh, that’s better.”

“Kiss You All Over” by Exile began playing. The Joker returned and plopped heavily down on the mattress beside Sophia. “Didja see on the TV that people are looking for you? Yeah? They won’t find you until I’m ready for you to be found. That said, I won’t be ready for that until certain,” and he waggled his fingers in the air and squinted. “Until certain needs are met. Ready to meet ‘em? They’re a crazy bunch. Sorta like family on Thanksgiving.”

He repositioned himself to lie next to her, swinging one pinstriped leg over her dark blue polyester one, and putting a hand on her narrow waist. Sophia refused to look at him, although she could tell that he was looking at her in expectation. Her peripheral vision saw his face getting closer and closer to her own. Despite herself, she began to tremble.

“I would have preferred you with your clothes off before I tied you down. Therein lies the dilemma: I wouldn’t have had to tie you if you’d willingly taken off your clothes. That is, unless you’d wanted to be tied up. Would you have, Sweet Sophie? Are you that kind of girl? Hm?”

Sophia winced as his tongue came out and lightly touched her cheek.

“So…before you meet my needs, your pantsuit will have to meet my knife. Ms. Pantsuit? Meet,” and he pulled the knife he’d placed in the mattress up and out. “Mr. Knife…”

The Joker placed the knife at Sophia’s throat and took her outfit in his other hand. Once the initial cut was made, he let go of Sophia’s clothing and let the knife do its work, slicing easily through the fabric and making a superficial trail in Sophia’s flesh. He cut the clothes off down the middle of her body and the middle of each limb, each time, leaving a trail of blood. With mock fanfare, the Joker yanked away the ruined pantsuit and underwear, leaving Sophia naked and bleeding except for her trouser socks and sensible shoes. He exhibited a strange tenderness removing her shoes and placing them to one side. He pulled her trouser socks off at the toe and placed them in her shoes. Then, sitting back on his heels between Sophia’s bound feet, the Joker let his gaze wash over her olive-skinned body.

“You…are…magnificent-t. What a shame the personality doesn’t match the pretty package it came in.”

“You don’t know me,” Sophia spat.

“And you don’t know me,” the Joker spat back, crawling up her frame to bring his face to hers. “But I seem to recall you calling me all manner of names, allll based on what you’ve been told. It doesn’t matter that-t most of it’s true, you just threw labels at me because that’s what ‘society’ expects of you. You’re such a little puppet, Sophie. Now you’re my plaything.”

And he kissed her fully on the mouth, not daring to use his tongue because he knew she’d bite it off if given half the chance. No, he limited his kisses to simple lip manipulation, letting them linger on her lips, warming and tantalizing them. Then he kissed her eyes and cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her throat and collarbones. Throughout it all, Sophia remained rigid and cold. But the Joker had all night and he was a very patient man. Even though he was a huge proponent of chaos, the Joker preferred to have his dates be willing participants up until the very end. There have been exceptions, and Sophia was obviously going to be one of them, but the Joker wasn’t a big fan of rape. When he wanted sex, he wasn’t on the market for a power trip, and that was what rape basically was. That’s what he did to the little groupie a couple of years back. He didn’t want to rape Sophia and, if given the chance, he wouldn’t rape her. His power of persuasion would eventually win her over, at least to the point of enjoying his ministrations and admitting she was doing so. All it would take was patience and passion.

“Obsession” by Animotion was playing now. The Joker stopped his kissing Sophia to sing along. “My fantasy has turrrned to madness and now my goodness has turned-d to badness. My need to possess you has con-sumed by soul. My life is trembling, I have no control. I will have you, yes I will have. I will find a way and I will haaaave you. Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly, I will collec-t you and capture youuuu.”