Her head was pounding. The overhead lights were bright enough to remind her of a drilling laser. She thought her bloodshot eyeballs would melt out of her head if she looked at them for a few seconds too long. The distant clanging and echos and yells of police and inmates alike rattled her bones; it was only a reminder that she was one of them, but she was the most damned of them all. Licking her dry lips, she knitted her fingers together over and over, twisting them and fighting back tears. They won't get anything out of me. She thought, over and over again, like a mantra.
That seemed to crumble as the door was pulled open, an electric buzzer groaning for several seconds as two cops walked in-- Leiutenant Jim Gordon and Lieutenant Hughes, both looking very overworked, very stressed out, and very pissed off. She fidgeted nervously, staring at the steel table. Gordon sat down roughly in front of her, Hughes standing off to the side. There was a short, intense silence, before Gordon cleared his throat. Hughes passed him a file folder.
"Your name is... Charlie, correct?" She nodded after a moment. "You are directly related to the criminal known as the Joker?" her face paled. Gordon groaned after a moment, when she continued to keep her silence. He rubbed his forehead and Hughes came to stand behind her, looming over her, threatening. "It says right here that you have the same DNA as the Joker." Gordon said, scanning his notes. "Is that right? You are his daughter?"
Slowly, she nodded. "I need you to tell me everything you know about him." Gordon said. He was frustrated because this was just a kid-- a baby, really. Fifteen year old Charlie, no last name, carted around by her psychopathic father who was no doubt trying to mould her into exactly what he was. She didn't wear the face paint or have any scars that he could see, and she certainly had no green hair-- it was dark chestnut. Charlie remained silent. "Where is he." Gordon said lowly. A vein throbbed in his temple when she kept quiet. "Where is he."
She wasn't going to talk. Slamming his fist against the table in frustration, he got up and stormed out of the interrogation room. Hughes grabbed Charlie and lifted her up roughly under the arms, pushing her towards the door.
"Don't even think about boltin'." He said threateningly behind her. She chewed her lip roughly, staring at the floor. Don't say a word. she thought. Dad depended on it.
Pushed back into the holding cell more violently then neccessary, she landed hard on her knees and her father was tsking.
"Don't-- don't throw my kid around." he said venemously, looking at Hughes. The officer's face paled at his nemesis' look, although he tried not to show it. "Don't."
"Shut up." Hughes retorted. Charlie got up and scuttled over to the Joker, sitting down next to him tightly. He leaned over and whispered something in her ear and she looked at Hughes, something dark and twisted burning in her eyes now, instead of fear. Hughes watched them from afar. What sort of freak was this girl going to turn into?
Gordon came next to him.
"Should we seperate them?" he asked.
"Why the hell didn't you think of that before?!" Hughes retorted sarcastically. "Of course we should seperate them."
"Fuck the girl. Maybe she'll be his downfall."
"I'm not sure he cares." Gordon said, watching the two.
"Dad," Charlie hissed, nudging the humming man's arm. "Dad, can you just please--"
"Ah- ah, Ah now my girl," he squeezed her jaw tightly. She winced, clutching his wrist. She didn't dare hit him. She learned a long time ago not to hit him. "I will figure this out. You can just watch. And observe, like how a good little girl is supposed. Children should be seen, not heard." he smacked his lips, nodding, before wheezing out a rustic laugh. He released her face, and Charlie turned away, her face burning.
His eyes glittering, the psychopath slowly counted off the seconds. Another hour, maybe. Just another hour. He turned his black eyes towards his daughter, who was staring off in the other direction. Tsking, he put one hand on her knee, squeezing it until she looked at him. He brought his face close to hers, infected lips parting until she could see every one of his yellow teeth. "Don't look so sad, sweetheart, daddy's here." he growled, patting her face gently. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Tears were glistening in her eyes. She didn't want her father to go to Arkham. It didn't matter how deranged he was, or even if he hit her sometimes, she still loved him. She blinked quickly several times. "Put a smile on that pretty face. For me." he flicked the side of her lips and she smiled. It was more of a grimace, but it was better then a frown. Cooing, the Joker lightly butted his nose against hers. "That's my girl."
"Jesus." Gordon remarked, wincing at the close contact the two were sharing. "I don't like that they're talking about something I don't know about."
"Well, let's seperate them!" Hughes said fiercely, clutching Gordon's shoulder. "For all we know, they're figuring out a way to get out!" Gordon brushed him off.
"You have kids, John?" Gordon asked, looking at his long-time friend square in the eyes. Hughes shook his head. "Well, you knew your father, didn't you?" After a moment, Hughes nodded. "We have no idea what this girl is like. For all we know, seperating them might lead to something catastrophic."
"But what if it's the other way around--"
"That's a risk we'll have to take." Gordon said, suddenly looking ten years older. He looked so depressed and exhausted, nearly out of his mind, Hughes didn't press it any longer. "Besides, you remember how pissed off the Joker was when we interrogated her." he reminded, before slouching off towards the coffee machine.
Exactly one hour later, exactly nine o clock in the night, the phones started to ring and four officers burst into the holding hall. Gordon stood up immediately, disliking the aura of destruction they brought in with them.
"What?" he said sharply.
"It's Dent." One said. "He's blown into Gotham general bank. He's got nine people hostage and he's killing one off every ten minutes unless you get down there now."
"Jesus fucking Christ." Gordon fumed, violently raking his hand through his silver hair. "Alright everybody! Let's move! Gothom general bank is our priority! LET'S GO!" he boomed. He turned to two other officers. "You, Jericho and Muria. You stay here and watch them." he spat. There was no doubt as to who those two were. The Joker was laughing in his cell. Gordon ignored him and walked out the door with his head held high but his sanity trailing behind him; God, was the Joker having fun tonight.
Ten minutes of awkward silence, and Muria said he was going to the washroom, leaving the already antsy Jericho behind.
"Jericho..." The Joker said softly. The officer didn't listen. The Joker stood up, sauntering over to the bars of the cage until he could breathe down Jericho's neck. He could see the little hairs standing up. He chuckled morbidly. "I know something no one else knows." he taunted. He saw Jericho stiffen and his smile got wider. "You know what I know, traitor." he purred. "Look at me." When Jericho didn't obey, the Joker slammed the bars of the cell loudly and violently. He heard Jericho whimper, and slowly turn around to face him. "That's better." He cleared his throat. "I better make this fast, before Muria comes back, eh?" he leaned forward and started whispering rapidly into Jericho's face.
Charlie watched, curious but not daring to move, or even speak. She watched, as in only one minute, Jericho the fierce looking cop was reduced to whimpers and pitiful crying, his shoulders shaking and face pinching brutishly. Charlie watched in amazement as Jericho handed him his gun through the bars.
Gordon was halfway through the bank when he got a radio call from Muria.
The Joker had escaped, leaving Jericho dead. He had taken his daughter with him.
Screaming, Gordon put his fist through the cruiser window.