Author’s note: This idea came to me last week over a chat with my friend Jokerlady/Izzy. I was wondering if I could do something with the multiverse and I have been wanting to write something with Blanca Steeplechase, the female Joker from the DC Elseworld’s Thrillkiller. Well, wait no more, here it is! There will be other stories as well with her, but for now I hope you enjoy this piece. I was wondering what if, just what if the two Jokers from Earth 37 and 31 met? How would they interect? Well, look no more. I hope you enjoy it. If you have any thoughts, questions or comments let me know! I wanted to take a small break and finally get around to writing one shots again. It’s nice to breathe in between chapters of a story. For those of you following it, thank you very much! Who knows, maybe there will be other adventures as well!

XOXO Jokie!

The Cheshire Cat was a club that was part Troubadour and part Studio 54 on Western Avenue and 54th that was home to the city’s most famous fried scallops. Crispy and salty morsels that would satiate the hunger of even the most hardened cuisine connoisseur would marvel and be seduced by the mildly salty delicatessen which massaged the taste buds like a tender lover. They often went well with tar tar sauce or any other spice that would give the bit of morsels life. While the majority of the patrons were here to enjoy the house special, the Cat House was also a place to conduct business, the kind that involved nailing someone if they didn’t pay their ‘debts’ in time or if they needed to ‘remind’ someone about putting in their ‘input’ for ‘company affairs’. It was a good idea to use an alias in case one didn’t want to attract the attention of the boys in blue, but even then, a few of them were willing to cover up, provided how big the rewards would be if they kept their mouths shut. It would be wrong to call the Cathouse a public urinal were all of Gotham’s lowest of the low would conduct their business.

Even scavengers have to eat sometime, right?

The Cathouse was akin to that of a rotting carcass in the middle of a savanna in the middle of the Masai Mara in Kenya. It was a feast for all predators. That would be a more proper noun. The colorful menagerie of individuals who came together and talked over who to nail Friday at nine thirty over crowned rack of lamb or creamed spinach was both casual and tense as a feeding frenzy between Great Whites. Unlike the sharks however, the cathouse’s patrons kept their hands clean, like Pontius Pilate. Also, they usual tended to be wary of each other and generally ignored anyone outside of their circle of friends.

Blanca Steeplechase didn’t like for anyone to think that she was just another hunter out on the prowl for the next meal. She likened herself to the apex predator. Half of these suckers were in her debt. Little Johnny “Rabbit Ears” Spumoni over by the bar owed her ten grand for bailing him out of the State jail and Charles Barker over by the patio owed her another fifteen grand for 

covering up that scandal that involved his daughter and the Blue Moon Bunny bordello on Devonshire street. She didn’t care if they paid her there and then. Just so long as they saw her, she knew she had them under her thumb. Like a ghostly specter, you did not need to make direct contact with the said victim. Just a shadow, a look, and their favorite, a smile would let them know that she was close. A breathe on a cheek, the smell of perfume in the midst, that was all they needed to know that she was there…and that she was hungry. She didn’t prefer direct confrontations. That would be too messy. She preferred a more stealthy and silent approach when she eyed her prey. Know their steps, know their movements, and know their breathing pattern even. She zeroed in on the poor sucker who didn’t pay off his ‘debts’ in time and like any merciless bill collector, she followed. She waited until the said victim would be within her reach before she would move in for the kill. Usually in an alleyway or somewhere where loud music could block off the sound of screaming was her ideal.

She giggled to herself as she found herself an empty table with two chairs. It was close to the West End bar. The lights were low, so there was a good chance that she could see but not be seen. Low fluorescent lights did not hide her beauty however. Porcelain skin was laced with a plum colored gown and black gloves which reached halfway up her arms. Gold jewelry highlighted her delicate features and her forest colored hair which cascaded partially down her brow matched her brilliant pair of peridot colored eyes. She was as sight to behold, but she was also poison.

She loved the chase, she loved the thrill of the hunt, but tonight, she was not in the mood. She was here to enjoy the sounds of a starving trumpet player who was said to be the next Dizzie Gillespie. She was enjoying Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. She loved themes that dealt with the probing of the human consciousness. They were collective tails that she could customize and manipulate at her whim. The human mind was like a jungle and she savored having to taste and nip the focus of her attention’s weaknesses and exploit them for personal gain. Forget elephant tusks. Toy Man’s weakness for small children made her lick her lips more than the Cheshire cat’s fried scallops. He could sweet talk anything with pig tails to do his bidding. The promise of a giant swirly lollipop usually cinched the deal. Although it wasn’t something that she would do personally, he had his uses. Everyone did, like the handicapped that washed her expensive cars and polished her designer brand shoes.

The possibilities were infinite and she found many a hidden treasure when she ‘interviewed’ newbies to her crew.

Blanca was enjoying the read and was about to savor another scallop before washing it down with pink champagne when she heard a raspy voice break her concentration, causing her patience to rattle slightly.

“Is this seat taken?” A low voice almost like a whisper queried in front of her. She did not take her eyes of the trade.

“Knock yourself out,” she said in a calm but sour tone, hoping that the idiot would get the message. The sound of the pegs scratching across the floor brought her relief and she sought to confirm that whoever had dared bother her was indeed gone.

But he wasn’t.

In fact he was still there. Sitting down. In front of her. He sat with her on the same table.

A thin green brow arched up in mild disgust and curiosity. Who the hell did he think he was?

She could barely make out a hint of seaweed colored hair which poked out from under his deep purple fedora. She could tell he was a sharp dresser, judging by his matching set of gloves and long green bowtie. He had exquisite taste.

“Who do you think you are, buddy?” she said with an acidic voice. If it was one thing that she didn’t like was having her territory threatened, but nothing set her furor up more than this rudeness and lack of concern for other’s privacy.

“Just an admirer is all. I could not help notice you from across the room. You remind me of someone,” the man said in a deep and scratchy voice. He was obviously trying not be overheard and he only wanted her as his captive audience. He noted how the green haired beauty across the table glared at him with sick curiosity and mild contempt. It made his lips stretch up in a grimace.

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you take off that hat? Isn’t it rude to do that in presence of a lady?” the Queen of Jesters responded. She still thumbed her book. At this point and time she was very tempted to throw it at him if he didn’t explain himself and yet another part of her was slightly intrigued by this mysterious stranger.

“Of course, my sincerest apologies….” The man replied. On that order he proceeded to remove the hat in which she got a better look of this mystifying visitor.

Emerald colored eyes widened at the surprise. The first thing she noticed about this new arrival was his bleach colored skin. It wasn’t make up, that was for sure. It was obviously permanent, like her skin. He also had jade colored curls that poured from his crown. His aquiline nose contrasted with her feminine and pointed one. She could never forget that crimson colored mouth which contested with her rose colored lips. It was like being in a hall of mirrors at a funhouse but it wasn’t.

He struck a chord all right. He reminded her of….herself.

At this point and time, Blanca set aside her book and cast her full concentration to this captivating man.

“Great family resemblance, don’t you think?” the male replied. She caught that shark like grin that made hers look like a pale comparison. It sent a small shiver up her spine and it also made her nerves rattle.

“I…did not notice…” she said raptly, trying not to sound too interested.

“Pity, such a sublime creature such as yourself stands out against this field of dead daisies,” the male Jester folded his hands on the table. He was not going anywhere, it was obvious. He was very very interested it seemed in keeping his stay.

“You are trying way to hard, pal,” Blanca said bitterly. Her index finger tapped against her cheek, making her look like as if she was losing interest.

“Feisty one, aren’t we? Well, two can play that game,” he signaled with a waving hand to a passing maitre d’. “Waiter. An order if you please? A bottle of Dom Perignon and the lovely lady here will have…?”

Blanca’s eyes stared up at the man and at the host.

“A bottle of your most expensive French Bordeaux, please,” she said in a voice laced with contempt. And on that note, the wine waiter left for the dining area. He felt as if he was in the company of two apex predators which explained his burst in speed as he went out of the way.

“You are a tempting one, you know that right?” the male Jester replied in a voice with deep resentment. She was a quite a nymph.

“Tell that to my ex husbands,” she said confidently while lighting a cigarette.

“I don’t intend to become another number on your list, dear,” the man replied. Blanca’s eyes turned to his direction. So, her reputation had preceded her. She felt the warm glow of confidence rise up within her.

“I notice that there is no wedding band on your finger. Such a shame, really. I bet you would make any man happy,” the man purred. His persistence was testing her tolerance.

How dare he make the suggestion?

“I don’t need a man,” she said sourly before taking a sip from her drink. “I am very capable of taking care of myself.” Her olive colored eyes narrowed.

“Ahhh, spoken like a true independent woman. I can respect that, which is why I am proposing a wager with you. Equal rights and all,” the gentleman said in a low tone. His low growls gave him the profile akin to that of a Siberian tiger.

“Is that supposed to be a funny? Because it was not…” Blanca replied coolly. If it was one thing that she didn’t like was that people would take account of her based on her sex. She could do anything that anyone with male plumbing could do.

“Don’t you want a little extra dough and get yourself a new mink fur coat? I do pay handsomely and you should consider this a compliment for I only ask for the best and you my dear are it,” the man replied. Blanca was disgusted with his suggestions but she had to admit that he had style and a way with words. At least he put things out on the table. He wasn’t the most subtle, but it was better than nothing.

Blanca shook her glass of wine in mild contemplation. Her eyes surveyed the handsome stranger sitting before her. Part of her wanted to throw her wine at his pasty white face and yet another part of her yearned to touch it.

“What do you get out of having me as your partner?” Blanca said in a firm tone. Her red lips touched the glass once again.

“Nothing but the satisfaction of having you as company,” he stated simply.

“Spoken like a true egotist,” she replied sensually.

“At least I am honest, sweetheart” the male jester responded. He did not seem deterred by her reactions. In fact, they made him more grounded, she noticed.

“True,” she stated. “If we are going to become partners, I would like a resume,” she insisted. The waiter came back with the orders and began to pour their drinks nonchalantly.

“Of course,” the handsome stranger replied. “I once ordered the murders of a circus family. The Flying Graysons, have you heard of them?” he placed a hand on the table in an attempt to get closer to her. She nodded that she did.

“It was nothing really. I like choosing my victims at random. You cannot imagine what kind of domino effect that had because I see the little runt running around in boy shorts next to the Bat!” he spat.

“And….you didn’t want that…?”

The male Joker scoffed.

“Perish the thought! I planned it! Little Bruce Wayne lost his mommy and daddy when he was about the lad’s age. It was time for that circle to be met once more. Like the Aztec calendar, I became Tezcatlipoca for that little runt.”

Cunning and philosophical, those were an aphrodisiac for the female.

“Nice,” she replied.

“I also seduced a lawyer, a psychiatrist and a television producer. I did it to prove a point.” The male Jester said before he sipped his glass of expensive wine.

“And what was that point?” Blanca said with a curious smile.

“That people, especially women will do ANYTHING for a taste of power. That’s what they found out before I took their last breath. I chose them carefully the way a hyena chooses the weakest member of the clan on the hunt.”

Somehow he made being the grim reaper sound glamorous. Blanca’s eyebrows arched up. He had control. He had skills and he was a charmer as well.

“What about you, my dear? What have you done in your bid for power?”

Blanca twittered her fingers. How could she outdo this foreigner? He had matched her in wit, charm and sex appeal, but she did have one thing on her side.

Quid pro quo, Miss Blanca.

“I seduced the mayor of the city to bring my plans to full fruition. He was a real drunk and I ran this burg.”

The male Jester nodded in approval. He had professionals in his repertoire, but she had public figures.

“Very impressive Miss Blanca…” he said in a husky voice. Blanca almost choked on her Bordeaux. It wasn’t the fact that he knew her name. It was the way he said it. This man collected women like boys did baseball cards and he still treated her like a lady despite his earlier claim. Still, she couldn’t be too sure.

“I also have an underling who followed my every move like a sick puppy that she was. We became….close friends,” Blanca said with a satisfied smile of triumph. The other clown's eyes widened in delight. He was very, very impressed.

“Nice, very nice,” he responded with a low rumbling in his throat. “You certainly know how to move your pieces, pumpkin….”

“That reminds me. You got a name?” Blanca queried. She crisscrossed her fingers, waiting patiently.

“They call me ‘The Joker’,” the green haired man responded finally.

“’Joker’, is that it or do you have any hyphens in there?” the white skinned woman replied.

“Just…Joker. Or Mister Joker is you want to feel formal.” He said lowly. He obviously didn’t like his persona to be rattled.

“Very well. I like a mystery in a man. It just makes him more tempting….like a forbidden fruit,” she said suggestively.

“It is indeed,” the Joker replied.

“Tell me then….Mr. Joker. How do you….improvise your art? In other words….what do you give the muse a good workout?” Blanca asked before sipping her wine.

“Hmmmm,” the Joker’s eyes lit up. “Good question.” He leaned back like grandfather about to tell and old favorite story.

“I find that it is best when you sweet talk your victim. Let them gain your trust. You ever own a small bird as a pet, love? It is kind of like that. You coo it, you pet it and you let them know that they are bound to you. Then, when you have them within your grasp, you go for the soft underbelly and then go in for the kill. Humans are far too gullible these days I’m afraid. It’s gotten too easy,” he said almost solemnly. Blanca nodded in agreement.

“I got to hand it to you Mister Joker. For once this whole evening you made sense. Me, I like to go for larger prey. It makes the hunt more….challenging, more……exciting, if you will.”

“Perfectly understandable, love. I must admit, I have great respect for a woman of your caliber.”

“Don’t think I am going to ignore about what you did to those women,” Blanca said venomously.

“Perish the thought. I wouldn’t dream of it,” the Joker said sardonically. He raised a glass in proposal. “Just like you wouldn’t even dare touch the idea of marrying someone like me."

Blanca smiled. The man knew what he was talking about. He was blunt, sure, but one had to admit he had a unique sense of fashion in all spirit of the word. She raised her glass in response to his toast.

“To crime,” she said. The sound of their glasses clinked, signaling their newfound relationship.

“To crime,” the Jokers smiled.