**
They had entered downtown Gotham. Stacey was staring silently out the window now, watching the tall buildings zoom by above her, and the glow of the building lights seeping out through the thick early morning rain clouds. The rain clouds were hovering so low that Stacey could barely see the tops of the buildings. It had already started to sprinkle, and Stacey could see little droplets of rainwater splattering on the glass.
They weren't on the better side of town that was for sure. It seemed like there was a girly bar on every other corner, their half lit triple X signs flickering through the fog. And it seemed that outside of every girly bar, a bum slept shivering under a ratty old blanket, an empty bottle in a brown bag lying next to his head. "Why are we taking these side streets?" Stacey asked. "I don't like the looks of this area. I never go this route when I drive home. Why aren't we taking the freeway?"
The Joker smacked his lips, still staring vacantly ahead, and he turned on his windshield wipers. "Just like a woman," he spoke in his deep growling voice. "Always trying to drive from the passenger seat."
"Sorry," said Stacey, trying her best to hold herself back. She didn't want to piss him off. She knew him too well by now. "It's just...,"
"Yes, you have good reason not to trust me now. I know," said the Joker, finishing what he assumed Stacey was about to say. "But just remember this Miss Gordon. I kept you alive for a reason. A personal reason. As much as I hate to admit it, you've grown on me. Like a yipping lapdog would grow on its reluctant owner," he turned to Stacey, who had a weird expression on her face. "That's a compliment."
"Thanks?" Said Stacey, feeling rather odd. She really didn't know how to respond to that.
"You're welcome little bunny," said the Joker, trying to sound as sincere as possible.
They didn't speak again after that, until the Joker turned into a dark alley, and abruptly stopped the van. "I'm afraid little Bunny, that this is the end of the road."
Stacey's heart dropped to her stomach. She snapped her head around, her eyes meeting the Joker's dark serious gaze. "W-what? You can't be serious! You said you wouldn't kill..."
"Hey! Shush, shush!" the Joker immediately put a finger up to her lips to quiet her. "That's not what I meant doll. I can't drive you all the way to your apartment myself. If I was that stupid do you really think I'd be in this business for so long?" he snickered. Stacey only glared at him with mystified eyes. "I can't take the risk of there being a bunch of pigs...I'm sorry, cops surrounding your pad. Your little old apartment's a crime scene ya know. That's where I kidnapped you remember? I'm sure they dusted all over for my fingerprints. But they won't find any," he snickered some more. "But I can't go back to, uh, the scene of the crime. A professional criminal never does that...if he's smart."
"What are you going to do then?"
"Well doll, you know your way home from here dontchya?" the Joker licked his lips, and by the look in Stacey's eyes, he knew she had caught on.
"You expect me to walk home from here?" Stacey couldn't help the squeak in her voice.
"Either that, or we turn around and go back to my home, and forget this ever happened," the Joker said with a large psychotic grin. But his grin actually faded when Stacey only looked at him with hate filled eyes, and unlocked her door. She clearly wasn't going to fall for that. It appeared that she would rather walk home by herself in the worst part of Gotham, in the dark, and in the rain, rather than go back to his mansion with him.
Stacey angrily pushed open the door and pulled her small suitcase up on her lap. "I guess I don't have much of a choice," she said, and glared at him with defiant eyes.
The Joker suddenly had another one of his mood swings, and his face twisted in anger. For some reason, her wanting to leave infuriated him. Infuriated him so much that he had to fight the urge to yank her over his lap right there and wallop the hell out of her until her cute little ass fell off. But he wouldn't. Not this time. "Fine. Get out of my van."
Part of Stacey was expecting a different reaction from him. Was he really letting her go? After all this time? Just like that? In fact, for some reason she had to ask him that herself. "You mean you're really letting me go? After all this time? Just like that?" She must have been crazy. Why wasn't she just hopping out of the van and leaving? He was giving her the opportunity.
"What's it look like?" The Joker snapped. "Go home Stacey."
They exchanged eye contact for a few more seconds. Then Stacey turned and was about to exit the van, when she felt a large gloved hand grip her arm tight. "Wait," said the Joker. Here it came. She knew he had to be bluffing.
Stacey turned to look at him once more, and she saw him reach into one of his pockets and pull out a switchblade. He pressed the button and the blade flipped out. Stacey was about to struggle when the Joker pressed the button again and the blade went back down in its slit. He forcefully grabbed her wrist and turned her hand over, and slapped the switchblade in her palm. "Take this with you. I've got plenty."
Stacey looked at the switchblade in her hand, and back at the Joker. "Thanks," she said. She turned to exit the van again, when the Joker grabbed her arm once more.
"Anyone tries to grab you," said the Joker, as he leaned in closer to her ear. "You take that blade, and you shove it right here under their ribs. As hard as you possibly can," he took his fist and gently pressed it under Stacey's ribs, to show her where to stab. "Got it?"
Stacey nodded frantically. "And whatever you do, don't talk to anyone, no matter how friendly they might look," the Joker said seriously. "I mean it. Gotham spawns the scum of the earth. And sorry babe, but I don't have any pepper spray," as if on cue, a crash of thunder echoed through the alleyway, and the light sprinkles turned into heavier rain. "Or an umbrella," said the Joker. "Now hurry home," he gently pushed her out of the van, out into the rain with her small suitcase in tow. Her feet landed on the pavement, and she twirled around to look at the Joker again, still dumbfounded that this was actually happening. The Joker only stared at her with lifeless eyes beneath his thick makeup. "Goodbye little bunny," he said. "Close the door."
Stacey slammed the heavy van door shut, and it made a loud noise. As soon as she closed the door, the Joker floored it out of the alley, the van screeching and squealing as it kicked up rainwater behind it. Stacey watched the rear lights of the van disappear around a corner some feet away. In an instant he was gone. The Joker was gone. Stacey now knew what a tame animal felt like once it was released back into the wild. She felt like her binds had been cut, but now that they were, she didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to feel. What day was it? Hell what year was it?
She stood there for a few moments, taking in her freedom, and inhaled the chilly night air. She could feel raindrops falling on her head, and she wrapped her small sweater tightly around herself as a cold breeze blew down the alleyway. That's when she decided that she had better start walking home, before she froze to death in the alley. Wait. Which way was home? She couldn't remember exactly which direction her apartment was. She pondered the idea of seeking out a payphone and calling her father, but of course the Joker didn't leave her any change.
And who was out at this hour? She couldn't beg any pedestrians for change. She could always turn it around on the bums and beg them for change. Ha. Fat chance.
She decided to trust her instincts, so she proceeded to head north. Hopefully the street names would become familiar to her along the way, and she would figure out how to get home. It wasn't even close to the time for the buses to start running yet. She was obviously going to be screwed until at least daybreak. She noticed her walking had subconsciously turned into a trot. She had to get out of that alley. Her eyes were already starting to play tricks on her in the darkness.
She eventually made her way to the sidewalk, closer to the streetlights. She thanked a higher power that the rain was already starting to let up, and it was now back to a light sprinkle. Her hair was already matted to her head, and she could feel her body shivering. She knew she would surely wake up with a cold tomorrow.
'But at least I'll be waking up in my own bed,' she thought to herself. She started to get frustrated when she didn't recognize any of the street names. And it was only about four blocks later that she had the sudden urge to cry, as every street name was still unfamiliar to her. She felt alone. Utterly alone. Not to mention that she was tired as hell. All she wanted to do now was curl up in a warm bed, and at this rate it seemed she would be walking until sunrise, or spending the night on the street underneath a newspaper. She decided it would be safer just to walk until sunrise.
Her ears perked when she heard loud music in the distance, and faint voices of people chattering. People! Live people! And it sounded as though they were only a few blocks away! Perhaps it was a bar that had just been let out! She decided she needed to find the source of that music. And so she followed it. She jogged until the music and the people's voices grew louder to her ears. Her pulse pounded in her eardrums as she turned the corner, and she could almost leap with joy when she found her prediction to be right.
She was on a street full of clubs now, and they had just let out. Groups of people, mostly men, were outside the clubs smoking and laughing and just chatting it up. Some were wobbling in place, clearly having had too much to drink. Stacey felt like a sudden weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't get the words together in her head about how she was going to begin to tell them where she had come from. She didn't really have to. A group of four men that had been leaning against the wall spotted her, and approached her themselves, taking a final drag from their cigarettes and tossing them on the ground.
As Stacey watched them approach her, she had a sudden gut feeling in her stomach that told her something wasn't right. That she should have never turned around that corner. But it was too late, as the men had already decided to have a little chat with her. And Stacey, for some reason, felt frozen in place. "Hey there hot stuff," said one of the shorter, dark haired men. His hair was slicked back and he had a fifties greaser look to him. He also had a face like a weasel. "What'chya doin' out here all by your lonesome 'uh? You going to apply for a job at lady luck over there? I hear they're lookin' for hot young blondes." All four men laughed.
It now seemed as though they had surrounded her like a pack of hyenas just waiting to attack. "What's with the suitcase?" said one of the very large men, in a very deep voice. He almost reminded Stacey of the Incredible Hulk, only much uglier. "Are you running away from home?" all four men laughed again.
"Running to home actually," said Stacey, unable to hide the tremble in her voice. She inwardly cursed herself for appearing so weak. If she were a stronger woman, these men probably wouldn't have approached her. Why was she so damn weak? "Please. I've been through a lot. You have no idea. I've been locked up in a mansion for the past...oh Jesus I don't even know how long! Six months? A year? Please. I need to find a phone so I can call my father."
"You were locked up in a mansion and you think that's a bad thing?" one of the men chuckled. "What's a matter? Sugar daddy catch you with the pool boy, so he locked you inside his estate?"
"No!" said Stacey, trying to remain strong. She was in no mood to deal with a bunch of cocky assholes. "I was kidnapped! I've been all over the news for months I'm sure. I'm the commissioner's daughter and I need to get home asap!"
The men immediately stopped laughing when she said that. The guy who looked like a fifties greaser squinted at her and he leaned in more closely. "Holy shit. You are her. The little Gordon bitch they keep flashing all over the news. Check it out boys!"
One of the men who had been standing at Stacey's side, pulled her hair away from her face but she immediately slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" she snapped.
"Ooooh," said all the men in chorus.
The greaser leaned in closer, and he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a large scar on his arm. It was a circle with a line going through it. "You see this?" the man hissed. "I got this in Gotham county jail. Five years I spent there. And you know why?"
"Because you broke the law?" said Stacey. Where the hell was this stupid bravery coming from?
The man abruptly grabbed Stacey's arm and pulled her towards his face. "No bitch. Because of your old man. If it wasn't for your old man I would'a never been caught. Do you know what this symbol on my arm means?" Stacey crinkled her nose. The man's breath smelt of a thousand ashtrays. "Do you?!" The man roared.
"N-no," Stacey said weakly.
"In Gotham county prison, it means you're a catcher not a pitcher. I'm sure even a dumb blond like you could get what that means. I'm not a big guy. Your daddy handed me over to a pack of wolves. First day I'm thrown in my cell, I get ganged up on. They beat the shit out of me and then rape me up the ass. These weren't small guys either if you know what I mean. Couldn't sit for a week after that. Then they take some fuckin' knife they made themselves, who knows outta what. Gotham County doesn't give a shit what the prisoners do anyways. They used that knife to carve this symbol into my arm letting everyone know I was their bitch."
"I'm sorry that happened to you," said Stacey, praying to God that lighting would strike this asshole.
"They said if I tried to do anything about it, they'd chop my dick off in my sleep. Do you have any idea what it's like being raped almost every fucking day for five years?" the man hissed.
"I can almost guess," said Stacey. "I'm sorry. But I have nothing to do with what my dad does. I don't have his job."
The man pulled her closer, and he sniffed her hair. "How could such a pig fucking cop have such a pretty little piglet for a daughter?" He groped one of her breasts, and ran his disgusting tongue up her neck. Stacey felt stunned for a moment. But then a surge of rage coursed through her veins. A rage that was much greater than the rage she had ever felt when the Joker touched her. This greasy little man was violating her personal space, after she had been to hell and back. She felt her small hands grip tightly around the handle of her suitcase and she swung the suitcase into the man's face, nearly knocking him over.
He stumbled back a bit, groaning and holding his face. And then Stacey felt a sharp pain on her cheek as one of the larger men slapped her. He had slapped her so hard it caused a ringing in her ear and she almost collapsed on the ground. The Joker had never hit her that hard. Not on her face anyway. He had only slapped her once, and it wasn't nearly as hard as this. This was only the second time that anyone had ever slapped her in the face and she almost felt knocked silly.
The greasy little man leaned over, holding his nose, and he hocked a heap of spit onto the pavement. It was full of blood. "F-fuck!" he spluttered. "Little bitch almost broke my nose!"
The taller, hulk-like man grabbed Stacey, and he was so strong she couldn't even begin to struggle. She flashed back to one of the first nights she was at the Joker's estate and his henchman attacked her, only this time she knew the Joker would not come to her rescue. She knew that this time she was really going to die. She couldn't scream because a giant hand was clamped over her mouth. Not that it would matter. She was in mob territory and no one would come to her aid. If anything, watching her being raped and murdered would be a show for them.
The next few moments that followed felt like slow motion, as she was dragged back into a dark alley. The Joker had dropped her off in a dark alley, and now she was going to be murdered in one. Did he plan this? Did he plan to leave her in mob territory, knowing that these hyenas would find her and tear her apart? No. He had warned her not to talk to anyone and she disobeyed. Now she was going to pay the price. And for the first time, Stacey actually wished that she were back in the Joker's arms, instead of in the hands of these jackals. Instead of a mere spanking that the Joker would have given her for disobeying him, she was going to be tortured, raped and killed.
Stacey winced as she was thrown up against a hard wall. The alley smelt of urine. Never in a million years had Stacey imagined that the last thing she would smell would be a bum's piss. The greasy, weasel like little man took out his knife, while two of the other men held Stacey in place. The fourth man was a few feet away keeping watch to make sure no one passed by the alley and witnessed what was happening. The ugly little man wiped a bit of blood off from underneath his nose. Stacey noticed that he was sniffing an awful lot. It dawned on her that the blood seeping out of his nose probably wasn't from her suitcase. He was most likely a meth head.
The ugly little freak advanced on Stacey, and he pinned her against the wall with his body. He ran his knife gently along her cheek. "I'm going to enjoy this," he hissed with a deep, sinister laugh. "I can't wait until that prick Gordon finds his pride and joy gutted in an alley. Well what's left of her anyway," he ran the knife down to her cleavage. "Now what should we do first? Cut those pretty titties off?" Stacey was frozen against the wall and she felt herself growing nauseous. "Nah. We'll start chopping off the body parts afterwards. I like my whores in one piece when I fuck them."
After that, he ran that grotesque sneak-like tongue of his over Stacey's earlobe. It was about this time that Stacey realized that one of her arms was free. Her hand was trembling so much she feared she wouldn't be able to pull it off. She feared she would drop it. But somehow, despite shaking like a caffeine addict, she managed to quietly reach into her pocket and grab the switchblade. She pressed the little button, and she almost vomited when she actually heard the blade pop out. But she was hoping he hadn't noticed.
She pulled the knife out of her pocket, but the man caught her wrist before she could do anything more, and painfully slammed her hand against the wall causing the knife to drop to the ground. "Sneaky little cunt!" the man growled in her face. "I knew you'd try to pull something like that! This isn't the movies bitch. You're not gonna be able to magically fight your way out of this one," Stacey cried out in pain as he slammed her hand against the wall again. She could feel her poor little knuckles cracking against the wall's concrete surface. And then the man slapped her hard across the face in the same spot the other man had slapped her, and she now he a huge red handprint across her cheek.
"Yo Marco, anyone comin'?" the man shouted to his friend. The other two men were still standing side by side with Stacey, letting the weasel man do his work. They had each lit up a cigarette and Stacey had to hold herself back from coughing since the smoke was blowing right up her nose. "Marco!" the man called again. Marco didn't answer, and he was nowhere to be seen in the darkness of the alley. "Where did that asshole wander off to?"
The man let go of Stacey for a moment. "Did either one of you guys see Marco leave?" both of the men mumbled and shrugged. "Boy you assholes sure are sharp."
"Hey he was there a minute ago," said one of the men as he leaned against the wall sucking from his cigarette. "Probably saw some hooker broad walk by and went off to fuck her somewheres."
"Yeah whatever," the little man scoffed. "Marco!" he yelled again, his voice echoing down the alley.
"Polo!" a male voice suddenly answered back from the darkness.
All three of the other men looked at each other for a moment. "Marco, you dumb shit! What are you doin'?" the little man yelled.
"Polo! You dumb shit, come over here will ya? I need ta show you somethin'!" 'Marco' yelled back.
"Shit it's dark!" yelled the little man. "I can't even see ya over there! Quit fuckin' around and come closer to the light! Ya need ta be watchin' the street dumbass!"
"I said," 'Marco' answered back in a low voice. "Come here a second. I need ta show ya somethin'. It's very important."
The little man squinted into the darkness. Within the darkness, he could make out Marco's silhouette in the not so far distance. He started quietly walking towards it. "What the fuck ya gotta show me? It better be fucking good whatever it is!"
As he got closer to the tall figure, his eyes adjusted against the darkness and he could make out Marco's chubby features, his eyes staring lifelessly into space. "Well? What the fuck asshole? Why ya standin' there like some lifeless dummy?"
Marco didn't answer. He didn't even flinch. This made the small weasel like man quite irritated. He hated being ignored. He stepped closer to Marco and roughly shoved him in the chest. "You asshole what the F.." as he shoved the taller man, he didn't know whether his eyes were playing tricks on him or not, or if he had forgotten he was on some sort of hallucinatory drug. But after he had shoved Marco he noticed Marco's head slowly sliding off of his neck. And then his head completely fell to the ground.
The little man immediately backed away in shock. "Holy f-fuck!" he sounded like he was having a seizure.
Not long after Marco's head fell to the ground, the Joker leapt out from behind the body, dropping Marco's headless cadaver on the floor, and he lunged at the ugly little man. The small man swung his blade, but the Joker quickly caught his wrist before he could utter another peep. "Ya know," the Joker said, smacking his lips. Within the darkness, his painted white face looked like it belonged to a ghost, a spirit of death. "I really don't take kindly to men who slap my little bunny."
The other two men who were watching Stacey didn't seem to be paying much attention. In fact they were busy having a conversation about cars while all of this was taking place within the darkness of the alley several yards away. It all happened in a manner of seconds. The Joker had taken the smaller man's hand, the hand that was holding a knife, and he completely lopped it off with a machete. The man barely had time to react, and he screamed like a starving infant at the sight if his bleeding nub, and the sight of his severed hand on the ground. His chopped off hand was still tightly holding the knife.
When they heard their companion screaming, the other two men immediately halted their conversation and flicked their cigarettes on the ground. "What the fuck's going on over there?!" one of the men yelled.
"Holy shit, is it the batman?!" said the other one.
But it wasn't long before a tall man clad in purple emerged from the darkness, holding the small weasel-like man in a headlock under his armpit, the little man's arm leaking blood like a broken faucet. The other two men stood there in shock. Now it was their turn to be frozen in place. "The Batman?" the Joker laughed psychotically. "You wish!" and with that he whipped out his automatic handgun and shot both of the men repeatedly in the chest, until their dead bodies collapsed onto the wet pavement. Stacey closed her eyes and covered her ears as the bullets tore through the air, and on each side of her, a man fell dead.
In the darkness the bullets looked like small sparklers, like the ones you'd see on the fourth of July. It was the Joker's own private show for Stacey, and the perfect symbol to show her how much he really did care. Stacey was caught in the middle of the gunfire, but she was unharmed. When the two men fell lifeless to the ground, the bullets stopped. Stacey trembled, tears streaking down her face, and she slowly opened her eyes to see two dead bodies lying in the alley, and the Joker shoving the weasel man to the ground on his knees.
"F-fuck!" was all the weasel man could splutter.
"F-fuck!" the Joker mocked. "That's what they usually say. Either that or p-please."
"P-please," squeaked the man who now only had one hand.
"See?" the Joker chuckled. "Oh, I just noticed something. That wasn't the hand you slapped my baby with," the Joker grabbed the other man's hand. The little weasel tried to resist, but his efforts were futile. Stacey had to turn away at this scene. The sight of severed body parts was something that her stomach was never able to handle. That's why she could never be a doctor or a nurse. Her mother was hopeful that she'd want to attend med school someday. No way. You had to dissect real human bodies in med school. That was some sick shit.
The Joker hacked off the man's other hand with little effort, and of course the man screamed bloody murder at the top of his lungs. The Joker then picked up the man's other hand, the one he had just chopped off, and he slapped the man across the face with it. "How do you like it?! Huh?!" the Joker roared, like an angry lion protecting his pride. He grabbed the man by his hair and slapped him with his own hand again.
For some reason this scene was familiar to the Joker. A dark alley. A creepy, cocky little mobster messing with someone he cared about. Or someone that Jack cared about. But as he used the man's own severed hand to pound his face in, the voices in the Joker's head began to speak once more.
'You see Jack? If I were in charge all those years ago, this is what would have happened to those mobsters, and Emma would still be alive.'
'Hey I won't argue with you on this one Joker. Pound that little fucker's face in! And let's bring our baby back home afterwards to celebrate our victory hmm?'
'Ya got that right Jackie boy. But I'm afraid we're gonna have to teach our baby a little lesson first aren't we? After all, she didn't listen to us did she? And the way she spoke to us today!"
"Oh come on Joker. Can't the poor kid catch a break? I'm sure this horrifying ordeal tonight was already a harsh enough lesson for her.'
'I'm afraid not Jack ol' buddy. I always told her that she would be punished if she disobeyed us. And I'm a man of my word. Besides, wouldn't we have spanked Emma if she had treated us like that?'
'I suppose you're right. Let's just try to go a little easier on her this time.'
'We'll see.'
Stacey felt like she was glued to the wall as the Joker beat the man to a bloody pulp. His eyes were wild and ablaze with fury. He looked like a ravenous pitbull with rabies. Stacey half expected to see foam spewing out of his mouth. The Joker caved the mans head in with the butt of his pistol, and when the Joker was finally done taking his aggression out on this nameless mobster, he had literally beat the man to death. The Joker finally stood back up, and he was breathing heavily. He was sweating, and some of his makeup was running down his face. But in an instant, like flicking off a light switch, he was back to his eerily calm self.
He turned to Stacey, who was stuck up against the wall crying and shivering. An image that the Joker was used to by now, only this time, he hadn't been the one to cause it. He slowly sauntered over to her. His face softened. Stacey quivered under his gaze, not knowing what to make of this situation. She wanted to faint. The Joker brought a hand up to her face, and he gently stroked his gloved fingers over the red handprint on her cheek. The sight of the red mark, and knowing that another man had caused that, made the Joker grind his teeth in fury. It made him want to bring all four of those men back to life, just so he could kill them all over again. "Are you okay little bunny?" he asked gently.
Stacey's bottom lip trembled, and she found herself latching onto the Joker and burying her face into his chest. She latched onto his body as hard as she possibly could, and she let her tears fall freely onto his shirt. The last time Stacey recalled doing something like this, was when she was trying to manipulate the Joker, or sway him away from doing something she didn't want him to do. But this time, her hugging him was genuine. She didn't want to leave his embrace. As crazy as it sounded, she knew she was safe in his arms.
The Joker hugged her back tightly, and kissed the top of her blond head. "Sh, sh. It's okay little bunny. It's all over. No creepy little mobsters are gonna hurt you now. Because daddy J is here."
"Why did you come back?" Stacey hiccupped between sobs.
"Couldn't help it," said the Joker. "Couldn't leave my little bunny all alone in this crap hole called Gotham," the Joker rubbed his hand up and down her back, and it sneakily made its way down to her jean-covered bottom. The Joker immediately felt his cock twitch at the feeling of her round little bottom through her tight jeans. He was still pumped due to that delightful little killing spree. His blood was racing. He needed her. Now.
Stacey kept her face buried into his shirt. She didn't want to look at the dead bodies around them. "You disobeyed me. Didn't you little girl?" the Joker spoke in a low serious voice.
"What do you mean?" Stacey said in muffled words, her lips pressed against his chest.
"You talked to strangers, when I specifically told you not to," said the Joker. "I just might have to deal with that," he gently patted her bottom. "Or I could just let you go home, like you wanted. We better leave soon, before someone walks by and sees this mess. Or I can drop you off a little closer to your apartment, and let you go on your merry way."
"No," Said Stacey. "I don't have the energy now to walk home by myself."
The Joker's lips slowly curled into a smile. "Are you happy that daddy J came back to rescue his little baby?"
"Y-yes," said Stacey.
The Joker's smile broadened. "And are you sorry for speaking to him the way you did earlier today?"
"Yes," Stacey said in a weak voice, feeling completely defeated.
The Joker's smile was now a huge grin. Who needed Doctor Crane's drugs? His brain and manipulation skills were far more useful than any substance that little quack could produce! "Good girl," said the Joker. "Now follow daddy J back to the van, and lets go home."
**
Too sappy? Oh well lol.