"So, whadoya think they're doin' in there?" The new guy nodded toward the back room, where the Joker and Harley had stumbled into only an hour before. Alec glanced up at him from his cushioned poker chair and arched a brow.

Why was there always a bloody new guy? He couldn't go a week without losing at least one man and days later a new one just popped up like weeds. Bad thing was, more and more of them were turning out to be sycophantic crazies, either fresh out the loony bin or stumbled in from the streets. More and more of the little roach bastards were skittering out of the woodwork, high on the intoxicating promises that only The Joker could provide.

"Oy, Marv, who the fuck is this wanker and when did he get here?" Alec tossed his head at the new guy and frowned. The defected Italian thug shrugged and folded his hand, cursing at the loss of his 6-chip ante.

"His name's…" he snapped as if to help himself remember and the skinny new thug scowled.

"David." He replied tersely.

Alec sighed and folded his hand as well. By the looks of this one he was a street-walking schizophrenic. He had stringy dark hair and beady eyes sunken into shadowed pits, as if he never slept.

"How long you been off your medication, David?" Another of the guys asked with a smile as he tossed down his winning hand and scooped up the pile of chips.

The new guy blinked, glancing around at them all. "'Bout a month. Boss says they ain't gunna help me anyway. Says I need to let it all out."

"'Course he did." Alec muttered. The Joker just knew how to talk to them. Though it must have helped that he was crazier than the whole bloody city combined. The clown always knew just what to say to get these freaks and mentals to follow right along. He was the Pied Piper of psychos, colorful clothing and all! Alec had even heard that one guy had let him stitch a bomb under his skin.

This city was one of a kind.

"But really," David twitched, blinking again and Alec leaned a bit away from him. He'd have to remember this face in the morning, after his hangover was over of course. He'd have to watch him.

"Whadoya' think they're doin'?" he asked again and the creepy little smile he flashed made Alec want to hit the guy. This was another annoyance with new guys.

"Exactly what you think." One of the guys confirmed, shaking his head. Another laughed and then the table was yammering on about nothing but. Bloody hell, he was tired of hearing about the couple's sex lives.

"But…she's rockin', how did he..?"

"Rockin'?" Alec muttered under his breath as he picked up his new hand. "Because she's a right crazy bird." He answered the guy.

David frowned in confusion, but Victor hurried to explain.

"Look, from what I've heard, she followed the Joker around, right? Then she runs into him, throws herself on him and it's been like this since." Vic shrugged.

"They fight, sometimes he tries to gank her, but then they fuck, and it's all good again." Another goon chimed in, picking up a new card.

"Lucky guy." David laughed in a weird nasally way that put Alec on edge.

"Don't talk like that, mate, bad things happen to the one's that go for it."

David shrugged, "I've heard the story." He shot back, then grimaced, "Can't believe he cut the guy's junk off and made her eat it. That's twacked out, man"

Alec laughed. He hadn't heard that version yet.

"Anyway, it's a shame." David folded his hand and the table erupted with replies from the others.

"You serious?"

"Did you see anything tonight?"

"That bitch is crazy!"

David grinned again, "That's the best part." He said, glancing up to meet all their eyes. "She'd be wild in the sack."

The thugs all laughed and jeered, shouldering him and throwing things, but generally agreeing. Alec, however, knew he'd never even attempt it. It was suicide.

No bloody way.


I couldn't remember how I'd gotten covered in so much blood.

Not that it bothered me, mind you. On the contrary it made Mr. J's skin wonderfully slick as he moved against me. The dressing room had become a blur of grunts and glittering mirror lights. Nothing else mattered. Not when he was touching me. My hand went up behind me, pressing against the cracked mirror, though the sharp bits of glass did little to distract me from Mr. J and his animalistic love-making.

The fingers around my throat tightened, almost until I couldn't breathe, but it didn't stop the encouraging moan I let out for him. I had to savor these moments when I could get them, and so far twice in one day was a personal best for me. I had to be doing something right.

A soft sob brought my attention to the lump of flesh and cloth huddled against the mirror beside us. Something pathetic that had pressed itself into the corner in an attempt to avoid our notice, but couldn't keep down the whimpers. My eyes narrowed, locking momentarily with the lump's and it sobbed harder, curling farther into itself.

Above me, the Joker growled and shuttered his release, making my toes curl in the pleasure of the thought, and I quickly followed his example. After a moment, even the clown's attention had strayed to the lump, though he didn't pull away from me. Feeling a bit territorial, I let my legs curl around his waist, holding him inside me though his erection was only a blissful memory. His giggle was soft and a bit breathless, but held the desired effect of making the lump tremble in fear.

"Hmm? Excuse me?" he asked mockingly, reaching out to grab the lump by its hair and reveal the bruised female face beneath. "I hate it when people mum-ble."

She fought to speak around the blood-stained knot of cloth shoved into her mouth, but only managed a few nonsensical sounds. My eyes fell on the blood trickling down the side of her face from her temple, then to the smashed bit of mirror that matched the red stain.

Ah yes, now I remembered. It had been her misfortune to be changing when we'd stumbled into the dressing room, clawing at each other like beasts. She'd tried to run of course, scrambling to the door, but not before the Joker had wrapped an arm around her waist and locked it there. Then had come the begging; please do hurt me, don't kill me, I have a boyfriend, blah blah blah…And when it seemed she'd gained all of Mr. J's attention, I'd bashed her head against the mirror. Couldn't have her ruining my fun.

Mr. J had handcuffed her with the set dangling at her hip. We'd played with her a little after that, he making shallow cuts while I smeared the blood against his skin and ripped open his vest and shirt. Even now they hung open, flashing a strip of tan flesh from his throat to his hips.

Mouth watering, I leaned forward and bit into his neck, tasting the streaks of greasepaint there. The Joker hissed in a breath and giggled, high and manically, tightening the fist he had tangled in my hair until I was forced to look up at him.

"I think she looks bored." I grinned, glancing sideways at the bloody and beaten stripper. Mr. J's eyes followed, narrowing slightly on her as if he were zeroing in on his prey. The idea of the games he might play with the girl excited me and it was the only reason I could stand letting go of him. He was rumpled, and still a little breathless from our latest round, and that tempting strip of skin was just screaming for my nails to rake themselves down it.

"You're right, Harls." He grinned, grabbing the link of chain connecting her cuffed wrists and jerking it toward us. I busied myself with putting him back away and zipping up his pinstriped trousers, and was rewarded with a quick nip on the shell of my ear.

The stripper was shaking her head violently, eyes wide, fighting to pull out of his grip, but the clown only cackled and jerked her closer until she fell across the counter and into my lap. Her big brown eyes shot to me and she whimpered. Probably remembering the way I'd carved the Joker's name into her back.

"What should we do to keep her enter-tained?" Mr. J asked, though he wasn't really talking to me, just fucking with the girl.

"I think she wants you to hurt her a little more." I replied anyway, "Remember all those excited sounds she made before? I think she likes it."

He leaned forward and stroked a finger down her swollen cheek, "Naughty girl."

Now the girl was watching us wide-eyed and writhing against her own authentic handcuffs until the skin was raw and bleeding. Her lip was split and swollen where Mr. J had socked her one earlier for attacking me, and I'd given her a nice pretty gash down the side of her face that had yet to stop bleeding. The tiny bits of glass in her hair caught the light and for a moment I found myself thinking it pretty, like diamonds or stars.

The Joker tilted his head and dragged her off the counter and against himself by her throat. The bulbs around the wall-length mirror flickered when he threw her against it and pinned her there. All it took was the firm grip of his ungloved fingers around her throat and the stripper went passive and quiet, but I could already tell, it wouldn't do her any good. The Joker had gotten that certain malicious glimmer in his dark, dark eyes that said nothing short of a nuclear explosion could save her

Mr. J glanced down at the girl who was shaking her head, blinking away tears, and turning sickly pale. With a dangerous giggle, he dragged the stripper up into a sitting position by her throat, paying no mind when she choked, and slammed her back against the mirror so hard it cracked again. Now dazed, she slumped down as far as his grip would allow, and Mr. J pulled me to him by the shirt with his free hand and into a demanding kiss.

The stripper began to really panic once she could see strait and shoved at the Joker as he leaned over her to me. This only made him laugh of course, and drew back to look at her.

"Come on now, girlie," he grinned, "man-ners."

I slid off the counter then to spin circles around them to the other side, giggling like a child. When I opened my eyes however, the smile faded and I stared at the cracked mirror.

The face there wasn't mine. It was warped and ugly and evil. The demented smile it had curled up to its ears, ragged and uneven and disgusting. The eyes were bright and cold, sunken into a face so distorted it made me sick. Did I look like this inside? I wondered reaching out to touch the reflection. Was this really me? Was I broken and ugly now, hiding behind a smile like the Joker? I leaned in, pushing against the face of this imposter with a snarls.

"Not me." I hissed, and slammed my fist into the glass, watching the hideous girl shatters and fall, piece by piece onto the floor.

I was drawn back to the present when the stripper tried to scream, though the sound came out chocked and wet behind her gag. Mr. J had sunken his blade into her gut and was whispering something to her, working the knife up and down to split more skin.

I smiled to myself, catching his eyes briefly in the unbroken mirror, and leaned flush against his back, reaching around to flatten my hands against his abdomen. He chuckled as he pulled the blade from the stripper, dripping and red, then sank it back in, working a new wound into her stomach. She wouldn't die just yet, but if she lost much more blood, it would be over. The girl was already pale and weak.

I watched her eyes roll closed a moment, head lolling to the side, and raked my nails across the Joker's abdomen. He hissed, finding my eyes in the mirror again, and stabbed the girl one last time, twisting the blade harshly so she'd scream. I smiled slyly, arching a brow and dipped my head down to grazed my teeth against his throat.

"I need more alcohol," I said slowly. The stripper was sinking down against the mirror, unable to hold herself up any longer and Mr. J was grinning like a mad dog. He didn't answer, turning his attention back on the girl, so I drew away and stumbled toward the door, unlocking it.

"Have fun." I giggled, waving over my shoulder and slipped out the door back into the bar, closing it behind me.

"I caught your show earlier."

The low feminine voice caught me off guard and I jumped, spinning to face a fiery-haired woman. Her smile was slow and entirely too sensual for my taste, but I offered a polite, semi-strained smile and nodded.

"It was, well," she gave a soft, throaty chuckle, "quite enjoyable."

"Thanks." I replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable in the way she was staring at me. She however, didn't catch my discomfort, or didn't care, because she kept talking.

"That man you're with," her green eyes flashed to the dressing room door, then slid back to me. "Is that really who I think it is?"

Maybe it was the alcohol, but my full focus snapped to her and I frowned in suspicion. "Who do you think it is?"

The red-head's smile got all flirty again and she crossed her arms to give me a thorough looking over. "So that would make you Harley Quinn, wouldn't it? Hmm." She tilted her head, "So the rumors are true. He is a lucky bastard."

I stepped back, glancing over at the boys and hoping Alec might recue me, but he was far too focused on the waitress currently scrawling her number onto his hand with a felt-tip pen. The woman's gaze followed mine then casually returned, putting me a bit on edge.

"You know my name…" I frowned, crossing my arms too. We might as well be on even ground.

The red head smiled in her flirtatious way again and offering me a hand that I took cautiously.

"Isley." She said slowly, "But you can call me Pam."

"Alright, Pammy," I smiled in an overly friendly sort of way, "Well as nice as it was meeting you, I've got a little…business I need to take care of so see you around."

She arched a brow, eyeing the dressing room door in a way that made me a bit testy, then chuckled. "It's a date." She replied far too intently, and sauntered off before I could correct her.

That was probably the strangest conversation I'd had in a while.

I shook off the initial ick of being hit on by a girl, then decided to take it as a compliment and just get my damn alcohol. More whiskey was all I needed, then I could bring back a bottle and return to the dressing room where that girl was hopefully dead already. If so, I might be able to rope the Joker into a little more nookie.

I was enjoying the thought when my eyes slid over the window and caught the brief shadow of someone outside, moving quickly out of sight. My body went still a moment, and I don't think I even breathed as I stared out the frosted glass and tried to make out the shapes in the blurry darkness, finding nothing.

Damn it. I thought storming toward the door. Whoever was sneaking around had better get gone fast, cuz I didn't need to be worrying about them right now. If they made me miss out on more of the Joker's incredible, giving mood, I'd fucking kill them.

Whoaaaaaaaa! So it's been a Loooooooooong time. Sorry, but for a while there I was thinking that I couldn't write Joker anymore. Not that I don't still love the crazy bastard, just, every time I sat down to continue the story, it felt wrong.

Then I had a WONDERFUL dream featuring a certain clown and thought why not try again, just in case. So here it is.

Sorry to let you all down with the wait, but since the Joker blogs are finally over and I can't find any Joker fics that really interest me (why does everyone make him out to be a redeemable character? He's fucking psychotic and that isn't going to change because some Mary Sue comes along and gives up a little ass) I havn't had a lot to inspire me.

If anyone knows any good Joker fics, like violent and demented the way he should be, PLEASE send them my way.

Until next time. We are coming to the end of our story boys and girls.