There will be a Sequel in the future just to show everyone that this story has not ended in my chaotic imagination,

::lots of YouTube videos I made as well. all on profile page::

spontaneous decision: I changed the title :) Why? b/c it's getting closer and closer for the sequel to finally rip through my computer & into FanFic &... I just think the old title isn't what I want anymore.. oh yes. and yes, I can't stop coming back to edit more and more and more...it'll prob never end xD much like the immortal MrJ no?

Carving ϟou

By: JrOeKnEeRe

1

Overdid It

The chair hurt more than I thought it would. You'd think with all the money the mob has, they could afford cushions. I look around and spot their chairs. With cushions. I'm the only one sitting on the hard, back slaughtering chair after what they've done. And the table. Even the table brought on pain, how cold it was against the cuts and bruises. So much that I jumped slightly whenever I'd lean into it. What they did. It wasn't necessary, even if I did put up a fight but they definitely overdid it. Everything had their own pounding heart beat for god's sake.

Laughing came towards the end of the table.

This whole meeting has been a blur. My head was pounding, ears felt like they were bleeding and body screamed of agony. Of course I would block this moronic meeting out, mindless talk about their money, even the chilling high pitched laughter that interrupted everyone only moments ago. I didn't pay attention to sound. It hurt to focus on anything other than trying to ignore the pain. But I would have to come out of it sooner or later. Faster than wanted.

One of Gambol's men shot up, roughly snatched my arm and yanked upwards. "Her?" Gambol spat in disgust, motioning for his assistant to bring us closer.

A rugged man stood near the edge nodding dramatically. Dark eyes fixated. He wasn't like the mob dealers here. His fashion was anything but the normal style. Customized green and purple suit popped out more than any other criminal in Gotham would dare. They try to avoid that. But it fit him perfectly as if professionally tailored, enhancing the shy muscles lingering beneath the material. The Joker. I may have been out of it but I knew who was who in Gotham. Criminals being the least, I've never had to know.

"You can have her but only if you leave," Gambol twitched his finger, resulting in my head-on collision with the Joker who swiftly caught his prize. From there, he opened his jacket to reveal explosives all connected with green string. They sprung up, searching for an escape.

"Thank you gentlemen for the house warming gift but we really must be on our way. Remember what we discussed," he took out a Joker card and placed it on the table. "Call me!" and swung me to his other side while kicking the door open. The harder he squeezed, the more magnetizing the pain. But I kept from making any noise that'd make him remember he had someone attached to his side. He seemed pretty distant. Like he was focusing on something unknown but all that was in front of us was the black air.

A van appeared just then. Its back doors banged open with two henchman jumping out, surprised to see their boss carrying a souvenir. "Is that for us?" one of them pointed.

The Joker pushed him into the van, still not saying anything. "I'm sorry boss, it's just you never bring anything of value back with you except weapons."

"Shut up and get in the driver's seat!" he growled, dragging me to the front car door. One push was all it took. I slammed hard on the seat, the driver giving a toothless grin. He crawled inside and made my effort to get up useless. "Drive!"

The loyal minion slammed his foot down and jerked the van into acceleration. Thrown backwards into the seat, my legs spread out, neck cramped, arm nearly slapped his chest. One foot stuck behind his left and the other bent underneath my butt. The streets flashed by quickly. Too fast to see where we were going. He was watching silently. It only took awhile before he tilt his head in amusement.

"Name?" one word, one chill, one desperate need to hide.

He smacked my lips tight before they had a chance. "Shh- I want to figure this out myself," he laughed but stopped suddenly, bringing his hand down quickly. Almost as if he touched something very hot. The black makeup around his eyes molded, confused with what he was seeing. Instead of a fearful expression, I was abnormally calm. The answer soon fell.

A thin line of blood, which had been slowly building the past few hours, has finally trickled down from my skull. He followed its trail until it dropped to the seat, looking back up just as I reached for the source. Touching the small puddle, it really was blood. Heavy, dark and slippery liquid confirming the fear. He merely stared curiously.

"Definitely overdid it," my last words were barely audible before nearly fainting. It could very well be so but I was still somewhat coherent.

He stopped me before I leaned back into the driver with only the tip of his fingers, causing a different fall. I fell into him instead. He clenched both his hands into strong fists, trying to avoid touching. But the driver took a sharp turn. Every other time he would have opened the window in response, thrust his head out, laughed hysterically while enjoying the jerky ride. But now he had this burden.

I knew what was happening yet couldn't do anything about it. There was a growing weakness becoming so intense as to shut everything down. Not moments before I heard him say.

"Sizzle," the driver responding with a grunt. "When we arrive, get all the information and background on this girl." He nodded, taking quick mental notes. His mind already jammed with psychobabble. The Joker knew he would have to repeat the order and when he does, the clown will be with one less finger and an even deeper scar added.

And then I was gone.

Looking to the street, to the few pedestrians dodging the van's erratic drive, he looked everywhere else besides the thing covering his lap. Just the fact that he was protecting rather than afflicting pain or challenging to a breaking point made him silent and unable to give thoughts to anything else.