YAY! New chapter! Who else is excited?! Is it only me? Okay, yeah, it is. Anyways, here's the latest chapter of this crazy story, and I hope you like it.

I own nothing except the plot and Esme. Right on!

Review, my pretties!


The Joker leaned against the trunk of the car, his gaze flicking to Esme now that he was bored with Mickey. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, smearing the freshly applied greasepaint on his purple leather gloves.

"What do you say we have a bit of fun while ol' Mickey's out of it?"

His hand slithered up her leg transferring greasepaint smudges to her skin.

"Excuse me?!"

"Nothing to get excited about, dollface. It was just a suggestion."

Esme forcefully pushed his hand off of her leg from where it had been slowly inching up her hemline. Joker looked down at his hand and back at Esme, a strange gleam in his eyes.

"You know, dollface, I told you I don't take rejection well."

He yanked her down and pinned her between the car and his body. Esme met his gaze, staring into the black pits of his eyes. He giggled as he rifled in his pockets for something.

"You, uh, nervous, sweetcheeks?"

"A homicidal psychopath it standing in front of me probably looking through his pockets for a knife," she quipped boldly. "Nope. I'm not nervous at all."

Joker giggled at her answer and leaned in closer so she could feel his breath on her skin.

"Then why are you trembling?"

"I'm not trembling."

Even as she stated it, she could feel her body shake ever so slightly.

"You're shaking like a leaf, dollface," he cackled. "You still look good though, but something's missing."

He pretended to think and he pulled out a tin from a few minutes before, opening it so Esme could see the red paint.

"What are you…?"

Esme never finished as the Joker grabbed her chin and smeared the red paint around her mouth to mirror his own strange smile. As Esme struggled against him, he just kept laughing.

"Hey!"

Joker slowly turned around to see the battered Mickey sitting up, a dazed yet determined look on his face. He glared at the clown as best he could from his position. Joker released Esme, letting her fall to the concrete floor while he advanced on the mobster.

"Look who's finally up. You got something to say, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Leave her alone."

Joker raised an eyebrow.

"You're the captive and you're ordering me around? That's a very, uh, poor decision."

He aimed a sharp kick at Mickey's stomach making the mobster double over. Joker giggled and crouched down next to him, roughly grabbing his lapels.

"We're gonna play a little game. Sorta like 20 questions, but a little more fun. I ask a question and you answer it, 'kay?"

"I don't make deals with freaks," spat Mickey.

Joker sighted overdramatically.

"I thought it would come to this. Good thing I have a back up plan."

He let go of Mickey, slamming his head into the concrete and sauntered back to Esme. He pulled her up by her arms, making Esme wince. She'd probably have bruises for a week.

"You'd better be a good actress, dollface," he growled.

Before she had a chance to answer, he whipped her around, holding a knife to her throat, presenting her to Mickey.

"For my first trick," he chortled, "I'm going to cut my lovely assistant into little pieces. Do you think I'll be able to put her back together?"

Mickey looked at him for a long moment.

"You're bluffing."

"No, I'm not," he sing-songed, pressing the blade against Esme's throat.

She hadn't planned on screaming, but bloody hell that hurt! She could feel a small warm stream of blood running down her throat. She gripped the Joker's wrist trying t keep his hand from cutting any further.

"Here's the first question. And every time you don't answer correctly, this knife goes deeper. Capische?" He took Mickey's silence for a 'yes'. "Good. We'll start out simple. What's your name?"

"M-Mickey Castle," he stuttered.

"Correct," shouted the Joker gleefully. "Now, M-Mickey Castle, where's the money?"

"What money?"

"Wrong answer! She's very pretty, isn't she? She'd look even better with, ah, rubies dripping from her throat, wouldn't she?"

The blade went further into Esme's neck as she clawed at his wrist, but he didn't give up until he at least got a whimper out of her. He turned back to Mickey, who swallowed nervously.

"The mob money, Mickey. Where's the mob money?"

"What if I don't tell you?"

"Then things are gonna get a bit, uh, messy around here."

He jabbed the blade at Esme's throat again, and she sucked in air through her teeth, blood still flowing down her neck and staining her dress. The Joker giggled quietly, and waited for Mickey to answer. Mickey looked at the floor weighing his options; his mouth was so dry and she looked so scared.

"All right. I'm only in charge of knowing where one load is," he mumbled dejectedly, nervously glancing at the knife at Esme's throat. "It's at Gotham National."

"See? That wasn't that hard, and not one hair on your little head was harmed."

"You gonna let her go?"

Joker looked over at Esme like she was an afterthought; then, he violently pushed her away, throwing her to the hard ground. She landed with a grunt, vowing to get back at him for this.

"Aw, now that wasn't very nice of me, was it?" Joker held out a hand to Esme. She glared up at him for a moment before smirking and accepting his offer. As Mickey's eyes widened, Esme allowed Joker to help her to her feet, flicking one foot behind her for effect. The Joker kissed her lightly on the cheek, a reward for a job well done and held out his other hand. Esme took the knife in her hand, closing her eyes as the cool metal touched her skin. She let go of the Joker and began advancing on Mickey, a seductive smile coming to her lips.

"I never said she wouldn't hurt ya!" The Joker doubled over laughing. "What do you think of my little key to the midway? My little snipe? You fell for the oldest trick in the book! You should have known Mickey-boy that chivalry is dead!"

Esme knelt down next to Mickey.

"Bella mia, what is he talking about? I don't understand."

She caressed his jaw lightly with the knife just like the Joker had done to her the night before.

"Oh, Mickey," she whispered. "What you don't understand could fill a library."

She brushed back the hair from his face like a mother comforting a small child, ignoring the Joker's giggles in the back ground. Mickey let out a quiet whimper.

"Sh sh sh sh, Mickey. Go out with a little dignity."

Excitement and adrenaline coursed through her veins as she brought the knife down to his throat. Lightly, she kissed his lips before swiping the blade across his throat.

"Ciao, Mickey," she cooed as the light left his eyes.

She stood up, closing the knife, blood spray from Mickey's throat dotting her dress. A satisfied smile spread across her lips and giggles began to spill out, joining in the Joker's glee. Finally, he walked up and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward an exit.

"C'mon, dollface, let's blow this joint."

He led her outside to where a nondescript black van was waiting. Impatiently, she tapped her toe against the ground while he rummaged in the glove compartment for something. When he held it out, Esme could see that it was a small black box with a key shoved in the side of it.

"This, precious, is a detonator, and I want you to do the honours."

Esme took the device in a reverent sort of awe and weighted it in her hand. Joker got up right behind her, placing his hands on her hips and whispering into her ear.

"All you have to do is turn the key…a simple flick of the wrist."

Somewhere deep inside Esme, a voice yelled out that this was absurd, but the voice was quickly silenced by the feeling of power she had. She cocked her head and caressed the key lightly, looking up at the warehouse.

"Oh, Mickey you're so fine," she sang quietly, giggling. "You're so fine you blow my mind!"

Quickly, she turned the key and the whole warehouse went up in flames with a loud explosion. Soon both of them were giggling madly as dust and debris rained down around them.

"That, my little firecracker, was one hell of a show," Joker managed to get out between wheezing laughs. When he finally straightened up, he pulled an old beat up pocketwatch out and looked at the time. "Well, dollface, it's been fun, but we should get you home. It's getting late, and there are all sorts of crazies out on the streets."

Joker grabbed her roughly and threw her into the van, speeding through the streets once more. In the distance, Esme could hear the sounds of sirens racing to the fire, the chaos she'd created. She stretched her arms like a contented kitten, smiling a wide Cheshire Cat grin that complemented the make-up Joker had smeared across her lips. She felt so alive, like she could do anything. She was invincible.