Love, Lust and Explosives

Sorry for the delay - no excuses: I'll do better.

Thanks again to Monk; If you find a better word, please let me know.

Thanks to Riam the Wanderer - hope the end holds up the beginning.

Jokerfan25 - Wank is a great word!

And Eros Sennin, thank you, thank you for your very kind review. I'm still smiling. And sorry I stole your character name. I like Lavender!

Chapter Three: Plans

She had not anticipated anything, good or bad, when they took her from her cell and led her through Arkham’s dim winding maze of halls. However, when they approached their destination, she caught a glimpse past the doors and into the room where they were leading her. Dread made her pulse begin to race. They were headed into an enormous laboratory filled with equipment, some of it appeared to be state of the art and some positively medieval. Alarms began to go off in her damaged brain, and instinctually she began to struggle.

The sickeningly familiar sounds, sights and smells were enough to send her into a full state of panic. Her breathing became shallow and erratic and the blood roared in her ears. By now, the guards were dragging her forward, and although she had ceased to fight, she did manage to vomit all over herself and them. When she thought back on it, it made her feel slightly better knowing she had puked on those assholes.

Violet had never been here before, and she knew it, but it felt so much like the “other” place, a place of pure terror, where everything had changed for her. Her mind was racing, “They know. They have to know. Why else would they bring her here? Now, it would begin again. “No, no, no!” She thought anxiously

They forced her through the double doors and into the laboratory, cursing and swearing at her for the puke on their uniforms. Violet was now paralyzed with fear, and she was incapable of resisting as she was thrown down and strapped onto an examination at the far end of the lab. As the blackness rapidly eclipsed her vision, she caught sight of a white coat heading toward her. In her last seconds of consciousness, she struggled for a thought to take her out of this place and for a millisecond, she thought of Mr. Stitches. Then she was out.

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Although he had pretended not to, the Joker had been listening for her return. During her absence, he nonchalantly questioned a few of the guards and a couple of inmates that approached his cell. All he could find out was that she was taken to the medical wing. “What kind of games are they playing with the lovely Violet? “ He found himself considering. “Although it doesn’t really matter, one way or another.” He had his own problems to worry about. He was curious where his neighbor had been taken and irritated that he was curious.

“Quacks and shrinks, quacks and shrinks; they define insanity. They are the ones who decide who’s crazy and then, dictate what should be done about it!“ He collapsed in a fit of shrieking laughter.

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It was very late when the guards finally returned with Violet. At the sound of their return, Joker stared at the trio through his door and his eyes narrowed. Violent hung loosely between the guards, trying to walk, but mostly being dragged. Her head lolled forward, and her dark wavy hair hung damp and limp across her face. “Curious,” he thought to himself.

He had not noticed it before, but around her left wrist was a scar. A perfect circle that resembled a bracelet. It was so perfect; it could not have possibly been self-inflicted. He also couldn't help but admire her amble rack. They quickly past out of his line sight, and he could hear her being tossed onto her bunk.

And he waited. It would take time for drugs to wear off. One thing he had here was time. There wasn’t much to occupy him in this place. He felt the need to destroy something, unfortunately that didn‘t fit into his current plans. Frustrated, he paced his dingy cell like a caged predator and yearned for the spontaneity of violence (and some beer and beef jerky)

In the early morning hours, three hours after returning to her cell, He was startled to hear her call out to him.

“Hello? Mr. Stitches?”

“You were gone a while - I misssed you. You should have invited me to the par-ty,” he quipped.

“Was I? I don’t really remember……and I missed you, too,” she replied, without even a hint of sarcasm.

“Well my, my, if it was that boring, I’m glad I wasn’t on the guest list-uh.”

She tried to laugh.

“Are you ok?” He heard himself asking her.

“No.”

“What you need, sweetheart is a hero.” He exclaimed ironically and burst into laughter. “Just kidding, just kidding. Although, you know…a villain might come in handy.”

He was a little surprised when she responded with a soft chuckle. “Are you a hero or a villain, Mr. Stitches?”

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think it doesn’t matter…to me, as long as you will be my friend.” She replied and began singing softly.

The Joker took this to mean goodnight and returned to his bunk. He laid there for a long time listening to his strange new friend sing before drifting off to sleep.


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Violet sat cross-legged on her bunk, rocking herself and singing. She was too tired to sleep and a little sore from her time in the lab.

One thing she did find out this evening was they didn’t know what had happened to her. But they knew there was something; something different, just not what. But they were testing. She knew all about tests. Eventually they would discover her secret.

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Neither one slept much, so they began to talk between their cells far into the night. Violet told the Joker lots of weird, random stories and loved to describe some of her more vivid dreams. She made him laugh. Really laugh. She sang snippets of strange songs, whether real or made-up he wasn’t sure.

Even though he didn’t volunteer anything that he considered important or personal, he was unusually candid with her. He talked about things that interested him; namely, his love of knives, explosives and basically, anything that caused in destruction. He gave his observations on everything from fashion to physics. And she listened, truly interested. If she was outraged, she didn’t show it. He was frequently rewarded with her laughter.

At times, he pried gently at the secrets surrounding her. All he got in return was a lot of double talk and nonsense. He began to think that her mind was so far gone, that she didn’t know. He was surprised; she didn’t ask him about his past. She seemed content to take him at face value; sight unseen

She was taken out of her cell several times a day. At least one of those times was a therapy session, maybe two. Other times, she would be gone for hours. And when she returned from these extended absences, she was usually silent for several hours. The Joker found this extremely irritating (in part, because he was slightly worried. However, he did not acknowledge that fact to himself or anyone else). Most of the time, he thought of her as a pleasant distraction and a source of entertainment in this dismal place. But even he couldn’t deny that as the days went on; she appeared to be getting weaker and was visibly losing weight.

One evening, although he had intended on keeping it to himself, He began one of his impassioned speeches on anarchy, chaos and true freedom. His voice began to rise as he progressed, until he was almost shouting. In his cell, he was pacing and gesturing as if he had an audience. When he was finished, it was quiet, too quiet. Then he heard her crying.

“Violet?” He asked, slightly annoyed. "Where is the applause?" he thought.

“I want to leave, Mr. Stitches. I have to leave before it’s too late.” She choked out.

“Too late? Isn‘t it already too late? This isn‘t exactly the Four Seasons.” Laughter boiled from him.

“I don’t want to be used in their schemes, Mr. Stitches.”

“Well now, hmmm…that’s an interesting thing to say, Violet. But maybe there’s something we can do about that.”

Do?” she murmured, afraid to take hope in her bizarre new friend.

He had planned on leaving this place soon anyway, and the thought of taking her along had already occurred to him. There were some people here who were very interested in this woman, and that knowledge could be valuable in the future. “I suppose I could handle a little extra baggage for a while,” he thought. There were definite possibilities here.

“Schemers, schemers, schemers; When will they ever learn?” he cackled menacingly. “They’ll just have to be taught with a little more force. A few flames might drive the point home.”

“I’m not sure…I...what do you mean?”

“My explosions, your fires…sounds like a liberating combination, don‘t cha think!” Just the thought made him giddy and he shrieked with laughter.

And the sound of his excitement made her start to giggle. Maybe there was hope. Their combined laughter vibrated through the ancient halls of Arkham, sending chills through even the most hardened of inmates.

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Sorry, I know this chapter is a little short, and ummm...lacking in the smut department, but it just kinda ended itself there ---- I won't make anyone wait long for the "serious" smut.