Not exactly a villain, not exactly a hero, Cheyenne, an assassin in Gotham City is given a proposition by Batman himself. In 92 days, she is to hand Joker over to the authorities of Gotham or turn herself in.
She goes undercover as a dancer in his c...
~ Smile ~ ~ Part One ~ ~ day 45 ~ • C H E Y E N N E •
I stood at the foot of his bed, watching the rain hit the window. The sound was relaxing, mind-clearing, when I could think about nothing but the conversation Joker and I had the other night.
Just like me.
Those three words were always apparent over all other thoughts. No matter how hard I tried not to hear it, I couldn't think about anything else. Over the past several days, I thought so much about what I'm about to do. Still, I'm not sure I should do this. But, I needed to understand. I needed to understand how and why and when. I never quite encountered anyone like me, I never had the chance to fully understand. Now would be my best bet to figure it out. Or at least try.
"I was beginning to think you abandoned me," I hear him say from his position on the bed, making me jump a little bit. "What are you doing?"
I look down at him, my jaw clenching as I tried to force myself to speak. I begin to pace around the room, becoming nervous, too fidgety to sit still. Taking a deep breath, finally gaining the courage, I grab the metal chair from the corner of the room and sit in beside his bed. "What makes me...like you?"
He stares at me for a moment, his expression hesitant, but intrigued by my sudden interest, my sudden compliance. His blue eyes move away from mine to stare up at the ceiling, his pupils wandering it as he thought carefully about what to say. "Let me start by saying that by telling me you work for Bruce, telling me that your own father is making you work for your freedom, proves that there's not much a difference between you and I."
I tilt my head upwards as I sit up straight in my chair. I could tell that Joker was being 100% serious, but there was still that playful tinge in his voice. It was almost teasing.
"All it takes is one bad day," he says calmly, watching me as I listened. "Not just any old bad day. It was a bad day where everything changed. You've had one. I can tell. It was in your eyes, the way they glazed over when I told you that you were just like me. It's also in your profession. No regular girl, not even a corrupt and twisted Wayne, would ever willingly get their pompous hands dirty."
I look away from him, unable to keep eye contact because he was undoubtedly correct. He constantly managed to read me like a book. One bad day shaped the rest of my life.
"Sweetheart," he says, commanding my attention. "I want to tell you about my bad day."
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• J O K E R • ~ several years ago ~
I wasn't always "The Joker". My real name was Jack Napier. I don't remember much, but over the years, memories have come flooding back in small increments. I'd rather they didn't. It makes things worse on what little sanity I may or may not have left.
