Rory Silver - The Joker (SS)

Chapter One : Finally, Some Excitement

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF GUNS, KNIVES AND DEATH.

It was a normal day. In Aurora's words, this meant it was 'absolutely fucking boring'. Honestly, she couldn't have been more right. It was dreadful really, waking up at the crack of dawn for the same ten hour shift every day, to do the same things over and over, at a job she had no passion for. She had no idea what sort of job she would have passion for really, nothing really called out to her in that area. Either way, it definitely wasn't this. It definitely didn't help that her boss was a complete dick. In her quite honest opinion, she would not shed one single tear if he died. Really, she thinks about being the one to do it on a daily basis. How she'd make it hurt first. Obviously, she never actually would do any of this, can you imagine the freak show her mother would become?

It was definitely a problem how that was the main thing stopping her, but she couldn't care less at this point. She felt her façade dwindle every day, the mask she wore felt as if it was deteriorating, her life slowly draining what was left of her resolve, leaving her ready to crack. As these thoughts ran through her head at what felt like a million miles a minute, she was drawn from them as a gunshot was heard from the next room, and while pretty much anyone else would be shit-scared, she was merely curious.

Finally, some change, a little excitement for once in her incredibly dull life.

While curious though, she was also aware that her life was in danger, not that she particularly saw that as much of a problem, but she doubted her mother, nor her father really, would be too pleased if she ruined her family image by dying, so she sat on the table in the room she was in, thinking about who could be doing this, honestly hoping someone would find her so she could actually be involved in something.

Thinking about it, logically, it would be less shame for her family's ridiculous image if she was found than if she offered herself up, which gave her what, in hindsight, was probably an extremely bad idea, not that she was particularly bothered. Her 'oh so brilliant' plan was quite literally to throw herself off of a table. Fantastic, absolutely fucking no one would say. Worked though.

She stood, just as two men, dressed in all black and with animal masks on, entered the room. Fucking weird, in her opinion. At least one of them had a zebra one, her absolute favourite animal. In all honesty, she very nearly let the wide grin she was suppressing slip. Finally, something. What she failed to notice, though, was that the two were holding machine guns. Well, in her defence, she did eventually see them... when they were aimed at her face.

To her surprise, they didn't shoot her, only kept their guns aimed at her. Even when it sounded as if it was raining bullets in the next room, their trigger fingers didn't do much as twitch. So, feeling fairly confident in her ability to, well, not get shot at this moment in time, she began to turn around, only to hear a voice come from who she had named as 'zebra man'.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
"Well, neither of you two seem to be very talkative, or very shooty shooty, and to be honest, standing there with two guns pointed at me and not being shot? Quite boring. So, I, Sir, am going to sit down on that table, further away from these guns that are in my face, and wait for something to bloody happen."

She imagined he didn't appreciate being spoken too like that, especially by a woman, but once again his trigger finger didn't even twitch. He only hesitantly nodded, as did the other, so she smiled cheekily at them both and sat herself on the table.

Minutes went past and they stayed in silence, the only noise being the gunshots of next door, and what she could only depict as maniacal laughter. She understood, she felt quite overjoyed knowing that her bitchy co-workers who looked down upon her were dying just next door, and she could only hope that her dumb prick of a boss was dying too; slowly of course.

Feeling suddenly quite hot, she removed her blazer and tights, feeling absolutely no shame in doing this in the presence of these men. She was probably going to die anyway, who cares. Well, may aswell die looking great. She laughed at her own thought, while the two men looked at her as if she was insane, as she then put her heels back on her feet, rolled her pencil skirt and sleeves and unbuttoned a few of her top buttons and untucked the shirt. Feeling eyes on her, though she could hardly see them through the masks they were wearing, she looked up at them.

"Are you two not hot?"
Despite finding humour in what she'd said, the two men decidedly did not, and did not answer her. Miserable pricks, she thought they were.
"You two can tal-"
They'd stopped. The gunshots paused, though the laughter did not. However, it did seem to be coming closer, and as it neared the door to this room, she could hear that it was accompanied by whimpers.

In what felt like only a second, the two men by the door had stepped apart, and her (unfortunately still alive) boss was seemingly thrown through them and onto the floor before her. She audibly groaned at the sight, rolling her eyes. Regret flooded through her, however, when she looked back and there was suddenly a man stood before her.

She'd heard about him. The infamous Joker. His ruthless ways, showing no mercy. And his green hair and large amounts of tattoos were always mentioned, obviously it was the main thing her mother found to critique about him. She resisted rolling her eyes at this, seeing as she'd never really bothered to look at a picture of him so her mothers complaints were all that lead for her to recognise him. And because she'd probably be killed faster if she rolled them now, let's be honest.

"Ah, and who might you be?" he asked her, in some sort of an amused tone. She supposed he'd heard her groan.
"Not really much point in introductions are there, it's not like I'm going to leave this place" she shrugged, not giving him the satisfaction.

"Oooooh," he stepped closer, "A feisty one we've got here." She shrugged again, hoping to heighten his anger, as to get this over quickly, but his expression was unchanged. It remained amused, with a constant hint of danger in his eyes that did not go unnoticed by her. She smirked.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's with Mr. Dickhead over here?" She pointed to her boss, who was looking at her in silent fury. The Joker, however, looked delighted. Her venemous, yet light tone clearly had some appeal to him, as his lips tugged up into a smirk and he responded.

"Ah ah, no bad language on my watch missy. He's here to give some codes, and then die," he paused for a second, reading her facial expression. She had managed to keep her face neutral, but she could tell her eyes had betrayed her when he grinned.
"And with the hope and joy you're practically radiating, I'll take it you don't mind, miss..."

Nice try, she thought. Idiot.

"Very nice try, Mr Joker, but yes, you're correct. Given the opportunity, I'd do it myself. I'll take it," she mocked him slightly, "that I won't get that privilege, as unfortunate as it is."

She was confusing to him. Anyone who mocks him ends up dead, but with the rest of the words coming out of her mouth, he found that the chances of that were lessening rapidly. She was an interesting character, to say the least. Acting so casually in the face of death, even going so far as to joke about it, mock it.

"We'll see." He diverted his attention from her before she re-gained it. She was distracting.
"So, Mr. Dickhead, as the lady over there oh so kindly introduced you as," he knelt before him, reaching down to grab him by his collar and pull him to face level, pulling a knife seemingly out of nowhere and holding it to the mans throat, "I'm going to give you five seconds to tell me the codes, or I'll have to let missy over there," he removed the knife from the man's throat, pointing it at her,"torture it out of you. Considering the pure joy she felt when finding out of you're inevitable death, I'd choose you're next words," he ran the blade down the man's right cheek, forming a light cut, smiling a toothy grin at him as he continued, "very, very carefully."