The Neighbour's Date pt. 1
Jul. 12th, 2009 08:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielThere are some warnings that need to be made about this story. It’s not a pretty one. I know that the others aren’t really pretty either, since my J engages in serial killing as a hobby on the side when he isn’t perpetrating mayhem on a massive scale in Gotham. But this one goes above and beyond the call of duty when it comes to what some consider taboo subjects. If you are at all rape-triggery or you have issues with the killing of children, it’s probably best that you move along, as there’s nothing to see here. However, if curiosity gets the better of you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The majority of this story was scored by the astonishing Massive Attack, Fluke, and by the Prodigy.
The Neighbour’s Date
They’d just returned from a successful raid on the shipyards, pulling in several van-loads of armoury and ammo, not to mention a half kiloton of cocaine, probably being smuggled into the Maroni Family. It was a shame they’d never see it or the money it’d make on the streets. They had all gone dressed as shipyards men, but wearing clown masks, which was always fun. He loved watching the looks on faces when they were approached by an unexpected clown.
Still wearing his shipyard gear, the Joker sat in the lofty comfort of his second floor room, gazing out across the endless ordered lawns that surrounded what his neighbours thought was an abandoned millhouse. The Joker’s place was the eyesore of this neighbourhood and the people who lived there inclined to keep their eyes averted from the place, hoping that it would someday go away. Much like the way people reacted to him when they saw him, either with or without the war paint.
But the Joker didn’t care. As long as they stayed away and showed an active disinterest in his little corner of the world, he was pleased as punch. Judy even. He’d docked his iPod, the very one he’d taken as a souvenir from the lovely dentist who’d had no vision beyond her little organised universe. It was people liked that the Joker liked to make squirm before he killed them. He wanted to see the realisation of Chaos in their eyes before he released them into Oblivion, a flesh gift to the gods of Existentialism.
He had an itch and not one you could scratch with one of those curly pieces-of-shit wood you get at tourist traps. It was further fueled by the music his iPod had decided to play on shuffle. Lots of Massive Attack. Dr. Romello had had a thing for this band, apparently, and the Joker could see why. The steady, driving beats, the wall of bass, the undeniable sonic manifestation of seduction could not be denied. And that was what J wanted now, seduction. He wanted to seduce and be seduced. He wanted to sink into the inevitability of flesh where madness and scars were nightmares in another world.
But he didn’t really want to go out this evening either. He’d planned on lying low since the uproar over the nun. The Joker could depend on Sidney to bring him someone, he guessed, but that did seem terribly antiseptic. The Joker chuffed heavily and rubbed his paintless face, gazing out to the far Gotham horizon. The sun was beginning to sink. Decisions, decisions…
About that time, a movement below caught the Joker’s eye. He looked down to see a woman of about 35 staring up at him. Just standing there in his yard, peering up at him like she’d never seen another person before in her entire life. Not taking his eyes from her, J pressed a small comm button on the desk next to the window.
“Yeah, boss?” Sidney said.
“There’s a woman in our front yard staring up at me. Go..get..her.”
Sidney didn’t even respond back because he was that good. Why waste time saying “all right” when it had better damned well be all right? He watched as Sidney emerged from the house, his bald brown pate reflecting the evening sun. The Joker giggled at Sidney, who didn’t say a word to the woman, just grabbed her by the arm and hustled her in doors. Sidney didn’t play around. He liked Sidney. He shut the iPod down and, turning his head away from the window, the Joker inclined the left side of his head to his bedroom door, listening.
“Get off me! Let go of me! Ummmffh gggahfffffafmmmmmmffff!”
“Boss?” Sidney said outside his door.
“Bring her on in, Sidney. Doorrr’s open.”
Sidney opened the door and shoved the woman in, in front of him. He looked up, then quickly averted his eyes. “Oh sorry, Boss, I didn’t know – “
“That I was taking a break-k?” The Joker interrupted him. He rarely let any of his henchmen see him without the war paint. Sidney was one of the few, but it still wasn’t an acceptable norm even for him. But the Joker had cooked something interesting which entailed his not donning the war paint.
“Uh, yeah,” replied Sidney, always quick on the uptake.
“That’s okay. You head on back and take an in-ven-tory of our tile, and I’ll be with you in a lit-tle while, ‘kaaay?”
“Sure thing boss,” Sidney turned and closed the door behind him in just enough time, leaving the woman who’d made a dash for it to slam into the wood hard enough to making a slapping sound. The Joker chuckled on the inside at the effect as he heard Sidney lock the door from the outside. They each had a key to the door so, in instances just like this one, the trespasser could be properly secured. He watched her try the door handle a split second too late, then smiled as she turned around.
She was a comely woman with medium auburn hair, pulled up in a top-knot with a grey scrunchie, and glass blue eyes. She stood there her 5’4” frame, tops, in a grey sweat suit and sensible walking shoes. Her skin was make-up free. He studied her face. Besides her giant and uncanny-coloured eyes, she was pretty average. Her nose was a little round, her lips thin. Probably of Celtic stock, he figured, with bits and bobs thrown in from everywhere. This was America, after all.
“Well-well-wellll, what are we going to do – with – you?” he said to her, making her start, despite her eyes never leaving his face.
“Who are you?”
“Well, you’re the one who was in the yard-d I’m responsible for, so let’s do it this way, shall weee? You tell me who you are before I call the cops.” He liked that last bit. Inspired, he thought, simply inspired.
Sheep that she was, the woman immediately caved in. “My name is Penny Latham.”
“Penny Lane?”
“Latham.”
“Ohh, I thought you said Penny Lane. Good song, though ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ is betterrr…”
Penny looked the man perched on the windowsill. He was dressed in old jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt, buttoned all the way up to his chin. His feet were covered with battered work boots. But it was his face that was striking. Even though he was undoubtedly handsome, scars stretched and snarled out from the corners of his mouth and marred his lower lip. He was also pale, very pale, with dark circles around his eyes. For someone seemingly so healthy in body, his face told a different story. Was he sick? Framing his face were long loose curls of dark blonde hair tinged with some indistinguishable colour in the fading light. Maybe it was just an odd colour that you get when a dye job is beginning to wash away, she wasn’t entirely certain. Penny was suddenly aware that she was just standing there in silence in a locked room after being yanked roughly from outside. She needed to get out of there.
“Listen…I’m sorry if I was trespassing,” she said as lightly as she could. “I thought this place was abandoned. When I saw you in the window, I was just wanting to make sure everything was on the up and up. You can’t be too safe these days, what with the crime rate going up and crazies roaming the streets.”
The Joker smiled at her as sweetly as he could at her as he laughed merrily on the inside. “No crazieees here, ma’am. I was just wondering the same about you.”
“What are you doing here?” Penny asked, pushing the envelope a little.
“Us?” He said, his face almost a mask of feigned innocence. “Well, we’re renovatorrrs. Hired help. I’m the foreman, Patrick Gratowski. In case you haven’t noticed, this place is pret-ty run down.”
Penny wasn’t sure she liked the way he spoke to her. It was almost as though he were mocking her with every syllable. She crossed her arms in defiance and defense. “This doesn’t look like a room for a foreman. It looks lived-in.” She flicked her head in the direction of Leopold, the Joker’s hedgehog, waddling along contentedly in his hedgie home.
“Well, I’ve been here for a while, getting things ready for my crew. It’s – ahhh – going to be a 24 / 7 operaaation,” the Joker leaned in toward her from his perch at the window, nodding as though he were letting her in on a tremendous joke. “We’re a dedicated bunch of con-tractorrrs, you might could say. Really haaands on. But-t! We’re doing this work or personable persons unknown, so nosy neighbours really aren’t good for the work ethic-k ‘round here. Dig-g?”
Penny said nothing, just leaned against the locked door, taking in her surroundings like a trapped rabbit. The Joker watched her search for some method of escape. There was none. This rabbit was on his menu for tonight’s dinner. He enjoyed her instinctive flinch when he launched himself from the window to stand his full height and slowly saunter over to her.
“So, this room looks a leeetle lived-in because I’ve relocated here for the duration of our – ah…contract. It’s a little home away from home, my secret pad-d. The whole….thing….” he said as he eased toward Penny, he words coming with each slow step. “Needs…to….re-mainnn..a…see-cret-t.”
And there he was merely inches away from this pretty little woman. She was incredibly tense in his presence and he studied her as she sought out some silent answers in his scars, now that he was close enough for her to really see them. He watched her face carefully as she once again surveyed the room over his shoulder. When her eyes went wide, he shifted his glance to take in the peripheries of the room. His violet overcoat hung from the closet door.
Before she could even move, the Joker had a knife to her throat. “And where do you think you’re going, Sweet Potato?”
Penny said nothing, her eyes locked on the telling piece of wardrobe draped like an afterthought on the closet door. How many times had she seen this man on GCN uttering threats and promises of unimaginable anarchy, his purple overcoat swirling in the ballet of death he performed on his horrifying home movies.
“Hmmmm, guess I’m a little busted, aren’t I, Wiggle Worrrm? Well…sh-sh. Now don’t start crying, it’ll only make your face puffy and that’ll be ugly.”
“Please let me go,” Penny whispered, moving her mouth carefully so her lips wouldn’t get nicked on the razor-sharp steel hovering at the left corner of her mouth.
“Tell ya whaaat, Swizzle Stick. I’ll theeenk-k about it,” the Joker said in a sing-song voice, “if you’ll help me with a little problem I’ve been having.”
“Wh-what?”
The Joker licked his lips and looked to the ceiling as though waiting to hear from God. “See, Penny, I have this itch… And I was going to head out to town to find someone to scratch it-t until you showed up like a gift from God.” He stroked her right cheek with his left hand as he pressed his body against hers, always maintaining the blade at the corner of her mouth.
“So.” The Joker sucked his lower lip in and wet it generously, making the y-scar glisten in the low light of the room. “Whaddaya say, Sesame Seed? Wanna….scratch..my..itch?”
Penny inhaled in a staggered hitch of breath. “And if I don’t agree to your..to your terms?”
“I’ll just kill ya! I need to post a sign out front ~ Trespassers will be eee-vis-erated. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAA-A-ha… I can always go out, but I’d rather stay in..and cuddle…with my new suburban meeenx. Yer choice, Angelfish. Make it quick-k.”
Penny was desperate to get back outside. She would do anything to shed herself of this nightmare. So she reached up and placed her right hand on the Joker’s naked cheek, her fingers tracing the edge of the twisted flesh with the deft knowing women seem to carry like Witchcraft. The scars crinkled as the Joker grinned devilishly. “Now thaaat’s more like it, Petal.”
