Monsters

Thank you sooooooo much to the lovely people who decided to review, it really does encourage me 'cause otherwise I'd actually do all of the work I SHOULD be doing at the moment (in the middle of a dissertation, euughhhhh!). I really do appreciate people's opinions so tell me what you think, ESPECIALLY if you think I'm doing anyone out of character. I'm wondering if my Joker addiction will wear off any time soon and it really doesn't seem to be - good job my boyfriend doesn't mind wearing face paint, HEEHEE!

Aaaanyway, enjoy! :D
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Alfred entered the starkly illuminated underground hall, his face seemingly unreadable. Only someone who knew the taciturn man well would note the muscles around his forehead tightened in the slightest of frowns, as he looked down at the discarded pieces of black polyfibre costume which littered the stone floor, leading a pathway across to Bruce’s bay of computers and surveillance equipment. Alfred’s shoes clicked in the unfilled silence of the huge room, and he noted that drips of blood scattered intermittently amidst the abandoned Batman outfit.

His frown deepened as he got close enough to see that Bruce’s bare, leanly muscled back was trembling, his arm tense whilst his head was lowered in concentration. Alfred’s gaze went to where Bruce seemed occupied, under his left arm, and sped up his pace when he saw the gout of blood trickling from his armpit all the way down to his waist.

‘Dear Lord Bruce – what have you done to yourself?’ Alfred murmured, eyes fixed on the wound as he dumped the bag of things he had brought with him hastily on the desk, ripping open a packet of gauze. Bruce’s face was taut with pain as his dark eyes flickered up to him, shaking his head.

‘It’s not as bad as it looks’ he said grimly, letting Alfred take over in pressing the wadded gauze over the wound and cleaning the surrounding area. As Alfred cleaned he realised Bruce had been telling the truth – most of the blood was drying, the continuing blood flow limited, and he felt his concern lessen slightly.

‘This looks like a bullet wound.’ He added as he applied a clean wad to the wound, taping it up and around the shoulder to fix it in to place.

‘Yep. Disadvantage of the separate armour plates’ Bruce said through gritted teeth, rolling his arm at the shoulder experimentally and clenching his eyes shut as burning agony scorched through the ripped muscle. ‘Luckily it went straight through. I couldn’t use my arm for much after that.’
Alfred shook his head disapprovingly ‘The muscle under your shoulder blade is severely torn. I’m surprised you could do anything with it.’

He turned in the direction that Bruce’s eyes were now trained and saw the News of last night’s events emblazoned across the TV screen, with the title “GOTHAM PRISONS EMPTIED – PANIC ON THE STREETS.”. The noise was sufficiently low that the reporter’s voice was just a dull thrum, occasional words erupting into coherence.

‘Bomb squad.... Batman... escaped........ hundreds saved...... Joker’s plan....... crime-rate....... fear spreading....’

‘I take it things went as well as could be expected then Master Wayne.’

‘Maybe you didn’t hear that last bit Alfred, fears spreading? I let people down.’

‘You did as much as one man could do in a near impossible situation. You chose the people of Gotham’s lives over stopping Gotham’s felons – tackling the immediate problem was the only sensible thing to do.’ Arthur countered sagely.

‘And the long –term problem is the thing they’ll hang me on for not solving. More people will die from those murderers being out on the streets than I saved from those bombs.’ Bruce said dully, eyes never leaving the News as Alfred handed him a clean shirt.

Footage taken from an overhead News helicopter showed the smoking remains of Gotham County Prison, the camera shaking vigorously. It slowly zoomed down on a blurry purple dot amidst the flaming carnage, and the Joker gradually came into focus, his coat flapping as he headed towards the prison entrance. The camera lurched sideways and focused again, this time on a blur of red.

Alfred turned and watched the screen in surprise as the tousled red hair flew back, revealing the pale, but nonetheless lovely face of a young woman. The image was too blurry for her expression to be seen, but her hunched shoulders and rushed step was a stark contrast to the Joker’s bouncing lope as she chased after him.

‘I see the Joker has a new friend.’ he said somewhat sceptically as the two of them disappeared into the prison, the transmission to the helicopter camera cutting off.

‘She’s the one who shot me. And did this,’ Bruce lifted his right hand to show a splinted little finger, ‘when that didn’t have the desired effect.’ Alfred examined the crude splint and re-did it, tutting at Bruce’s attempts to not wince in pain.

‘So what was she doing with the Joker?’ he asked as he tightened the material around Bruce’s fingernail.

‘I have no idea. I’ve never seen her before. It wouldn’t be the first time someone followed the Joker – he never has trouble finding damaged minds that he can manipulate.’

Alfred’s expression slowly dropped, growing serious. ‘And unfortunately these people tend to end up dead.’

Bruce nodded ponderously, thinking. ‘I’m going to need to find out who she is. Record, mental history.... Just because we haven’t met her before doesn’t mean she isn’t a threat.’

‘And what about Batman?’

Bruce paused in buttoning his shirt, his eyes holding nothing but reams of world-weariness.
‘Batman got away. This time. Next time.... Next time we’ll just have to see....’

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Derek was a nineteen year old who had been convicted for manslaughter after he’d stabbed a guy Maroni had wanted him to spook, and the guy had ended up bleeding out in one of Gotham’s less illustrious alleyways. It was in his nature to hide in the shadows of the bigger badder nasty men that were out there – they gave him a security in a lawless world, and money in his pocket. It was all he expected or asked for.

But right now as he dragged the lumpy mattress he had found a few streets away up one of the many stairways of the factory and on to the production line floor, he wondered whether he had gone for a big bad nasty that was too much for him to deal with.

Because since they had arrived at this factory in the middle of nowhere, all he had heard was a woman screaming. He and the others had all been sensible enough to keep away from the room where the girl and Joker had disappeared off to, but her voice carried.

The noise had let up for barely an hour, wherein the Joker had wandered briskly past Derek with a jaunty bounce in his normally awkward gait, humming to himself. He had stopped and turned after passing him, sucking air in through his teeth as he looked at him contemplatively. Derek had tried to look at anything but the scars under that weird makeup, nervously holding the wooden crating he had been breaking up in front of him. His flitting gaze swiftly took in the fact that the Joker was shirtless underneath his scruffy purple jacket – clotted blood marred the man’s shoulder and a long horizontal slash went across his stomach, whilst bruises littered all over his chest, a particularly brutal one spreading across his left hipbone. As for his neck; purple and yellow bruises formed a cruel necklace around his throat, teeth marks red and wet amidst the swollen flesh.

Derek had started but held his ground when the Joker had taken a few precise steps towards him, so that he was close enough to stare him down. He had reluctantly met the man’s black gaze and swallowed when he realised he could see the full, awful detail of those scars beneath the makeup that had been rubbed away. The marred skin was a dull ugly pink, stretched and painful even to look at. His wet tongue crept out and moistened them before he brought one gloved hand up to wrap forcefully around the back of Derek’s neck, the grip powerful but not violent. Not yet anyway.

‘What’s your name, little man?’ he sing-songed, shaking Derek lightly.

‘Derek, Joker.. sir.’ He hesitantly replied. A small shrill burst of laughter escaped the Joker before he controlled it and was serious again.

‘Derek, my boooy, I want you to find me a bed.’

He had tried to keep the confusion out of his eyes and knew how unsuccessful this was. ‘A bed Joker sir?’

‘Yeees, a bed. See I’m a courteous gentleman, and I think my lady friend is going to need some shut eye tonight.’ The glint in the Joker’s eye had suggested that the bed had very little to do with shut eye.
Derek wasn’t an idiot, and knew that every second of hesitation could be construed as insubordination, but after everything that had gone on that day his shock won out over his survival instincts. ‘She’s still alive?’

Another loud whoop of laughter had shot through the building, Joker’s body rocking with amusement as he released his hold on Derek’s neck. ‘Alive, is she alive? ... Ahahaha, ahahohehehoheeehee! Oh..... she’s alive alright. Blood still flowing, breath still thriving. Better than ever! That woman, Derek my boy, would still be trying to rip your balls off even if she only had a thimbleful of blood left in her body.’

The Joker turned and continued on his way towards the stairwell, waving a hand laconically behind him back in the direction of Derek.

‘Bed pleaaaaase Derek. Make it fast.’

That had been over three hours ago, and from what the others had said to him when Derek had returned, the screams had continued. As he neared the source of all the noise, a room bisected through several corridors at the end of the floor, he didn’t dare knock. As he set the mattress down in the corridor outside, he couldn’t help but notice that the screams were intermittently dispersed with moans and the sound of thudding. He slowly backed away, shaking his head as he turned to go ‘Fucked up.... Well and truly....’ he murmured to himself, making himself scarce as quickly as possible.

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Sally had done as she was told, and spread her legs. She watched him, her mind strangely blank even as her stomach was twisting in apprehension, as his gaze trailed down her body, unreadable beneath that mask of makeup. Gripping a finger of the leather glove on his right hand between his teeth, he deliberately tugged it off, eyes snapping up to connect with hers. Her heart accelerated and goosebumps shuddered down her spine, and to her mind’s quiet disbelief, she felt herself getting wet. Pulling off his other glove he tossed both across the room negligently, black painted eyes still trained on hers, challenging her to look away. Stepping up in between her knees he was suddenly agonisingly close, hot breath in her face, the fabric of his trousers grating against her inner thighs.

He gave her hip a warning squeeze as she tried to wriggle backwards on the counter to create some distance between them, dragging her firmly forward so that her centre was rubbing against his pelvic bone. She bit her bottom lip and didn’t make a sound as heat coiled inside her, gritting her teeth all the harder as that garish, torn red mouth stretched into a hideous smile. She flinched, heart thudding when his fingers came up to her mouth, nudging insistently at her bottom lip. His fingers were unbearably hot against her overwhelmed nerves.

‘Suck.’ He said in a childish, demanding voice, pressing her jaw open as his fingers slipped between her lips, delving his index and middle fingers deep into her moist mouth. Even as she was contemplating it, his other hand came up and gripped the nape of her neck tightly ‘And there’s no need, to try and bite my fingers off sweetheart. It won’t get you.... anywhere.’

Cold steel stung her shoulder, the instinctual response to a knife against her skin making her jerk reflexively, a whimper tearing through her as her breasts pressed against his chest. The whimper was short lived before her eyes widened as she felt his other hand, newly wetted by her mouth, inching along her thigh, spreading her slick folds as he teased a thumb along her clit. Her hips bucked violently as a gasp escaped her, and he slammed her back down on to the surface with one hand to her right leg, squeezing tightly enough that her brutalised flesh acknowledged the pain, the blade grazing her outer thigh.

His long fingers sank into her so suddenly she let out a howl of surprise and pain as they went deep, deeper than her still sore body wanted. She slashed upward at him with her nails and he gave a high-pitched hysterical pant as she scoured blood from his jawline before his free arm wound around her resisting waist, pulling her closer even as she tried to pull away, delving his fingers deeper inside her hot folds.

‘Ssshhh, sssh sssh sssh sssshhhh..... Eaaaasy..... Good girl...’ he purred as he rode his fingers inside her, stroking his cheek along hers, the scraping ache of his scars scouring her face as his makeup smeared over her. Nearly sobbing, she turned her head to lick the contours of his scars, quaking with overwhelmed senses as her tongue undulated over that destroyed beautiful flesh. He hissed air through his teeth before slamming her head back by the hair, the back of her scalp impacting savagely with the mirror. Her vision swam, red hot pain leaking out like ink into water, before he wrenched her upright again. He clearly had not liked that.

Another soaring noise of pain wrung out of her as he bit hard into her nipple, his hand that wasn’t occupied between her legs suddenly rummaging at his belt buckle, pulling himself out of his trousers. Her waist freed, if only momentarily, she attempted to pull back, wriggle away, anything to clear her head of the delirious haze what he was doing to her created. Desire and anger moved sluggishly through the pain in her head, making her slow, and he impatiently wrenched her forward again, carelessly cutting her hip with the knife, his fingers plunging in to her aggressively. She shrieked and arched her back and he feasted on her breasts, white and red smearing over her as he sucked on her right nipple, biting down on it again. Her fingers coiled in to his lank hair as she pulled his face up to hers, breathing harshly. She took his mouth with all the fury and roiling emotions inside her, nails digging into the back of his neck as she pulled him closer. He met her swollen lips with a ferocity that matched hers, ravishing her mouth. All the while his fingers were pumping in an out of her aching centre.

Another moan, louder this time, ripped out of her as his fingers curled deep inside her, a wave of pleasure rolling through her. He removed his fingers abruptly and she gave a petulant snarl of annoyance, yanking his hair viciously and earning a chuckle in response. The arm that was locked around her waist, holding her in place, became perversely caressing, the knife he still clutched tracing her ribs as he pushed her legs wider apart with his other hand. She stilled as she felt the head of his cock inching into her, his grip around her waist tightening again when she struggled. His breath wafted into her face as he gripped her jaw, dragging her up to look at him, forcing eye contact.
‘Hey.... Say you want me.’ He demanded, her ears buzzing at the low grating noise of his words. His face darted in close to hers, too close, her heart surging with sensations too intense to bear. Her inner muscles pulsed around him wantonly and her spine arched, but she gave him a look that said she despised him.

‘Fuck you.’ She managed to spit out, only for his marred mouth to split in a twisted grin, a pleased chuff of laughter escaping. ‘Good girl. Close enough.’

As he thrust in to her to the hilt she let out a ragged moan, her body trying to accustom itself to the size of him, her fingers clawing at his shoulders. He gave a savage noise of enjoyment against the base of her throat as he pulled out only to slam back in again, eliciting another abrupt scream from her. ‘Hurting you am I Sally dear?’ he panted into her neck, laughing maniacally as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, her grip on his shoulders becoming crushing.

‘Shut up before I rip your throat out.’ She hissed, her threat trailing off as he began increasing the speed of his thrusts, long smooth strokes that rocked her backwards. Her breathing hitched and a broken gasp flew unwanted from her mouth.

‘Mmmm... you talk dirty so well.’ he mocked, licking his lips before clasping the back of her neck and smashing his mouth into hers in a bruising kiss. She screamed into his mouth as she felt the cold keenness of the blade slashing her hip, close to where he had stabbed her only hours before. Just as quickly as he had done it she felt his hand tearing hers from his shoulder, clenching the knife between their hands in a bone-crushing grip. He continued pumping in to her with animalistic force, blood dripping out from between their hands as the knife dug into their fingers.

Panting moans escaped her lips, vision blurring as the pressure began building up inside her. A guttural noise rumbled in his chest, the hot slick sensation of her blood on his hands, her muscles clamped around his cock, bringing him closer. He lapped up the sweat that was accumulating on her neck and collarbone, resting his forehead on her shoulder as his thrusts became rougher, deeper. The mangled flesh of his cheek rubbed against her neck as he nuzzled her shoulder, biting down, drinking up the sensation of her arching underneath him as the knife bit into both of their hands. White and black paint mixed with sweat smeared across her cheek, over her neck and into her hair.

The throbbing need for release pulsed through her, the increasing volume of her cries showing how close she was. She was dimly aware of his left arm releasing her waist, her body moving like one aching nerve up to meet each rock of his hips. A shriek of surprise ripped out of her throat as his thumb stroked across her clit, bucking so hard she almost dislodged him as pure pleasure ran riot through her blood. Her back whiplashed up in an arch, every muscle in her body tight as her vision was flooded with white, the orgasm surging through her with blinding intensity. Her head filled with hot silence, muted chaos, and only the heartbeat throbbing in her ears in time with the pulsing pleasure gave any order.

He gave a chuff of laughter as he continued pounding in to her, his rhythm become frantic thrusts as his tongue worked around his mouth, pulling her bleeding hand up to his lips to taste her. The hot richness of her blood, the sting of the knife against his cheek, was enough to send him over the edge, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, loud feral pants puffing against her skin as his cock throbbed, his essence pouring in to her.


There was a very quiet, close world in Sally’s brain even as his breath thundered in her ear, the strange scrape of his scarred cheek against her skin as he forcefully rubbed his face against hers, as though marking her like a cat would, before he pulled out of her, and put his cock back into his trousers, zipping himself up. She watched him, her breathing shallow, and she cursed. Dimly she considered; it was the second time the bastard had blind-sided her with an orgasm, dragging it out of her without even caring if she had one or not. Lancing pain shot through her lacerated hand as he released his grip on it, the knife dropping from between their fingers with a sonorous clank on to the counter, blood spattering. She saw the blood hang crimson from her hand and had to tell herself that she was not dying. He was still breathing heavily, sweeping his lank hair back with both hands, before he patted her roughly on the head, his blood seeping into her hair. Latching on to her upper arm, he pulled her off the counter, spinning her sharply so that she was facing the mirror once more.

His makeup was all over her mouth, her neck, her throat; she was coated in it. Blood trailed down from her hip, both the new wound and the old one opened up again. Her hand sang with cutting agony, blood dripping from her fingertips.

‘You can have another shower if you want. It might be a waste of time though.’ He said lightly, amiably giving her a slap on the arse before heading towards the door. Trying to make sure that her legs would support her, Sally slowly let go of the edge of the counter again, numbly picking up the shredded dress she had worn earlier and slipping it on over her head. As the Joker yanked the door open she heard him give an explanation of surprise.

‘Oh goodie, a bed! That Derek whats-his-name did me proud.’ He turned and found his abandoned gloves, slipping them back on again after giving his fingers a cursory lick.
‘You, Sally Gore, need to get some rest. We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow, and you’re no good to me all lack lustre.’

His cheerful casual tone made Sally quite sure that she had lost somehow. Somewhere, deep inside her, a flame of anger flickered, danced, and gave up as the exhaustion of her body refused to support it. The best she could manage was a long, cold glance as her bleeding hand dripped on the tiled floor.

He gave her a playful look, one eyebrow raised. ‘You better stop looking at me like that pumpkin or you’re liable to get me all excited again. And I don’t think you could take a third round right now.’.

The flame danced a little higher inside her, and even as it did she found that she was smiling in the midst of her glare. Every inch of her ached. It was sheer effort just to move. And her heart was singing.

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’

He smiled, and neatly skipped over the mattress that blocked the doorway, opening his arms wide.

‘Plenty of things.’


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WHOOOO! RnR please, I put chapters up faster if I know people are still interested! *BLATANT BLACKMAIL* :D.