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Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?	By : JustMeAgain Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Batman (All Movies) > Batman (All Movies) Views: 1631 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from DC comics, the Batman franchise (comics or Nolan-verse), I don't own The Crow or any of the songs mentioned in this story. The only tihing I own is the original character. I make no money from any of this.

Chapter List
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~~~~~ 2009 ~~~~~
I woke up early with a sense of urgency rolling through my veins. I’d dreamed of the first time Jack had told me he loved me. Even all these years later I couldn’t believe someone like Jack could love me back. I would prove myself worthy of that love if it was the last thing I ever did.
I spent the morning shopping for furniture to put in the spare bedroom and paying exorbitant fees to have it delivered immediately. I bought bedding, curtains and some clothes I hoped Jack would be comfortable in. At ten o’clock I went to the local branch of Gotham National Bank and picked up the fifty thousand dollar CD I’d cashed in. The teller had seemed nervous letting me leave, and the bank manager had even offered me an armed escort. I’d refused. Maybe it was naive of me, but I couldn’t help but feel as if fate was on my side. Everything was falling into place. I’d have Jack out of Arkham in no time.
By noon I was back at home directing two deliverymen where to put the bedroom set I’d picked out. I was eager to get the room completely put together, but I still had so much to do. I may have made my own hours at the library, but I typically rarely left the premises. I’d only been there twice in the past two days, and I’d not done any of my job related work on either visit. My mission of revamping the Gotham Public Library System was pretty much ancient history to me, but I was smart enough to know my position there was useful. Not only did it afford me access to countless resources, it gave me a cover. Who in their right mind expected a librarian would break the Joker out of Arkham? So, in the interest of keeping up appearances, I spent a few hours on the telephone with various employees. I blamed my lack of physical presence on a bad case of food poisoning brought on by tainted shrimp cocktail. Everybody bought it, and Barbara Gordon, my second in command, assured me she could handle the day to day duties on her own. I told her I’d probably sneak in after hours to do a little work, and she went along with it. The employees under me were used to my oddball hours. It made things that much easier.
At four o’clock I was putting the finishing touches on the bedroom when the disposable cell phone I’d bought to contact Leon chirped to life. He wanted to meet to introduce me to someone and to pick up the money for the guns. For some reason I told him to meet me at the old polo grounds in the Palisades. He didn’t like the idea, but he agreed to it. I gathered the money I needed from the safe in my bedroom floor and got ready.
An hour later I drove the Prius over the former driveway of the old polo grounds. The ruts had somewhat flattened, and the weeds had completely reclaimed it. Halfway up I’d had to swerve hard to miss a tree that had sprouted up in the center of the drive. It was big enough around it would have definitely dented my car. It boggled my mind that enough time had passed since I’d last been here that a tree could grow there. I kept going until I saw a beat up black SUV parked next to what had been the weeping willow. The formerly splendid tree had given up the ghost. It tilted so far over its root system had come partially unearthed. It was withered and decrepit, and it filled me with an irrational sadness. I’d spent so many hours under the shelter of its fronds, and now it lay dead and bathed in two sets of headlights.
Two thirds of the tree disappeared when the SUV’s lights cut out. I watched Leon unfold from the driver’s side, and I followed suit. "Why’d you wanna meet out here, lady? Dis place gives me the creeps." When Leon shuddered it was like watching a volcano stirring. Shed of his perceived safety of the city he looked vulnerable and yet still deadly.
"It’s secluded here. We can talk without being noticed."
"A’ight, let’s talk then. I need five grand for a deposit on the guns. I got these." Leon rolled out a towel on the hood of my car. Inside were a dozen knives, mostly switchblades. The only one I recognized was the Cupid Out the Front switchblade. "Boss’s favorites." He explained.
"Good. What else?" I got to the point. I didn’t have time to waste, and Leon’s smile suggested he didn’t either.
"Gob, come on out an’ meet the Boss’s lady." I heard the passenger’s door of the SUV open, but that side of the vehicle was blocked from my view. My nerves tingled a little, and for the first time I felt a little threatened. It was kind of stupid to meet known criminals in such an out of the way place. They knew I had money on me, too. The only thing stopping them from killing me and taking it was the Joker’s reputation and the promise of more money for completing the job. I watched intently as a figure emerged from the shadows. The man wasn’t even that. He was a slight boy of maybe fifteen years. His dark blond hair hung to his shoulders and covered one of his eyes. He was a hair taller than me, but he was so painfully thin all I could think of was feeding him a sandwich.
"Hey." The kid mumbled in a deceptively deep voice.
"Hello." I recognized the look on the teenager’s face. It showed the abuse and neglect he’d endured. There was a thinly veiled rage aimed at a society that had failed him miserably. It was like looking at Jack Napier all over again. Not physically so much, but the anger they shared related them: brothers in hate.
"Gob don’t look like much, but he’s a sneaky little bastard. Kid can get into anything anywhere." Leon actually looked proud of the boy.
"So you’ve done this kind of work before?" I asked him. With his skills questioned his quietness turned to defiance.
"You heard Leon. I can break into anything anywhere. I’ve been planning on breaking the Boss out myself, but..."
"I believe you. Breaking into Arkham is easy. Breaking someone else out takes more than one man." I tried to assure him of my confidence in him.
"An’ it takes money." Leon reminded me.
"Yes, it does, but breaking the Joker out on Devil’s Night also requires a bit of creativity. I’ve come up with an additional surprise for him. Do you know anyone who can set some fires, maybe pick up some people?"
"Other than the Boss?" Leon chewed his lip and seemed to consider my request. "I might know some people. Depen’s on what you wantin’."
**********
The Joker sat in his damp cell and spooned oatmeal into his mouth. It took a little effort to keep it in, but he’d had a long time to get used to the scars. Scars... Scarlet. She was coming for him. She always came for him. He giggled at the double entendre. He remembered little snippets of his past with her, but there were memories missing still. Granted, they’d been horny teenagers, but there had been more to it than just fucking. Rattling around in his brain was something important he needed to recall about her. Or maybe not. Most of the time he didn’t like when his past interrupted his present. It was simply rude. He struggled to open the paper carton of milk and finally succeeded. He gulped it down in a single swallow and tackled the apple sauce on his tray. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He scraped his teeth over his tongue to try to dispel the medicinal taste. He spat a wad of phlegm onto the floor and grimaced. Winthrop had ordered his food dosed. The Joker’s eyes drooped, one eyelid at a time. It had to be a heavy dose to be so fast acting. His cell tilted like an amusement park ride, and he laughed. He squeezed his eyes open and shut a few times trying to shake the effects. He pitched forward off his cot and landed on his hands and knees. Son of a bitch, that old goat, Winthrop, was trying to fucking kill him. He heard someone laughing hysterically and realized it was himself. He wheezed with laughter and dragged his body across the floor to the toilet. He jabbed his index finger down his throat. Only a trickle of milky slobbers came up. He kept at it, but sleep was overtaking him. With a final retch a combination of oats, apples and milk gushed through his nose and mouth. He rapidly shook his head from side to side flinging bits of puke and spittle in all directions. He giggled again as his body went limp.
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- 19
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Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?