Chapter Text
Life.
Sometimes it was good, other times...not so much.
That's how it should be; you got your ups and you got your downs.
Here in Gotham, the only up you have is getting that minimum wage paycheck. There's literally nothing entertaining in Gotham unless you went to the movies, if you could afford that!
Otherwise, it's just an endless spiral of going down, down, down until you reach rock bottom. In which case, somehow an earthquake happens and next thing you know you're going deeper!
No one is truly ever happy in Gotham.
Unless of course your mentally insane, high, or one of the top class criminals this so called "Batman" throws in jail.
Batman.
Hah!
Stupid ass name for a stupid ass crime fighter.
You've never seen photos of this "Batman" but according to people he's saved, he exists.
You arrived at your apartment building, this time thankfully without having to shove off some low class criminal or homeless person demanding money for drugs.
As usual the lobby was minimally cleaned and there was yet another bucket in the corner from where the roof was supposedly fixed last week.
So much for that.
You hurried up the stairs not touching any of the railings, you'd rather risk falling down the stairs than cutting your hand on a razor blade or touching an unknown sticky substance. Travelling by stairs was also much rather safer option than the elevator. The machine creaked and groaned no matter the weight of passengers and when it came to a stop, it did so abruptly. One day the thick wires were going to break and you preferred not to be in there when it did.
After a few flights of stairs, which was your cardio for the day, you arrived at the heavy metal door leading to your floor. With a hard push having to use your body weight, it managed to creak open with a squeal of a high pitch noise that made your toes curl.
You continued onward until you arrived at your apartment--well more specifically your mother's apartment. As much as you hate to say that title, it was unfortunately true. When you stepped in you immediately wrestled off your shoes that were drenched by the rain. Peeling your socks off that were also soaked from your thin shoes.
Your toes were red and ached from how chilly it was today. It should be spring, according to that stupid ass lying groundhog--and yet it was below freezing outside!
You peeled off your thin raincoat, your hoodie underneath was a bit damp around the collar and hem. You kept it on anyways since the heat once again wasn't working.
You sighed in irritation and shuffled into the living room. There was an empty vodka bottle and shot glass from last night still left on the table. The apartment reeked of cigarette smoke since your mother was a heavy smoker. You usually pleaded her to go on the balcony but with the rain and the cold she had been smoking inside instead.
Despite the current cold temperatures outside, you cracked open one of the windows since the lingering smoke smelled far worse than the cold. As you headed to your room you noticed your mother's door was closed signalling she was home. She always napped in her room when she came back from her work as a nurse at Gotham Hospital. You knew she only worked at Gotham to help with the expense of how costly health insurance was with her smoking.
You slipped on much drier and comfier socks before returning to the living room.
You cleaned up any left over dishes or trash that your mother apparently didn't have enough motivation to pick up. The noise of the dishes being placed in the dishwasher seemed to have "woken the beast", your mother stumbled out of her bedroom with a bottle in hand of wine--her hand never seemed to be empty of alcohol or a cigarette when she wasn't working.
"What's with all the racket?!" She spat, angered.
"Just cleaning the dishes." You answered politely.
"Well don't make such a racket! It's aggravating my migraine." She spat.
"Are you sure it's not a hangover?" You mumbled under your breath, with an arched brow.
She gave you a harsh look and stumbled over to her prized cigarette box on the counter. Your mother peered into the box for a second before she snapped her head towards you with anger.
"Did you touch my smokes?" She demanded.
"No! I know what that stuff does to my body." You defended.
"Then why is my supply so low? Huh?!" She growled, shaking the open box at you.
Only a few of the entire forty-pack remained.
"Probably because you've been smoking them all away like M&M's." You said, rolling your eyes.
"Don't you lie to me!" She snarled.
She tried to shake her finger at you, but when she let go of the table she nearly stumbled into it.
"I'm not!"
"I just got these this week!"
"You've been smoking them all week." You shrugged.
"Don't you lie! You lie! Just like him! He lied!" She shrieked.
"Mom! Look at yourself! You need help!"
"No I do not!" She defended.
"You're drowning yourself in alcohol and cigarettes! I don't wanna see you like this! You need to sto-"
You shrieked in surprise at the sudden sting in your cheek, the force causing you to fall onto the ground.
Your mother had slapped you!
The dark circles under her sunken eyes made her terrifying gaze darker.
You glared up at her and hurried to your still wet shoes. You slipped them on, not bothering to tie the laces before hurrying out. By the time you were at the stairs you realized you forgot your raincoat but you didn't bother returning back for it.
You never wanted to return.
Your friend lived a few blocks away you could go to, she'd happily let you stay the night. Her parents were almost never home since they were always at work in long interval shifts. You stormed down into the parking garage where your ride was, it was a Yamaha motorcycle. Another friend had given it to you for a couple hundred bucks after his brother had found it in a storage space he bought.
He had tried to give it to him, but his parents refused to let him ride it so he gave it you. This was thankfully during the time your father was still with the living, he had at first been a bit skeptic but it was cheaper than a car.
The innards were rusted and missing a few parts but your father had been able to fix it up for you. You swallowed the anger and sadness that came with the memory and started it up. The machine roared to life and you felt a bit better at the engines soothing purr. You smiled and placed your helmet on before booking it out. You sped down the streets fast, flying down them.
It felt exhilarating as you weaved between cars and even swerved into alley ways. You were too fast for even the cops to catch you--not that they had the time to even care about a speeding motorcyclist. You swerved onto a road and saw there was no cars what so ever. You sped even faster, the speedometer tapping against the edge of the meter trying to go past.
In a split second a car swerved in front of you and stopped right in the middle of the road. You gasped and squeezed the breaks until your knuckles became pale white, the bike squealed and became unsteady, wobbling.
You would crash into the car!
You grit your teeth and let go of the bike, tumbling into the ground. You made sure to roll knowing that grinding against the tar would hurt much worse. The bike fell onto it's side as it continued to glide down and slam into the car, but with not as much force as it would be with you still on it.
You picked yourself up and threw off your helmet, the design on the outside heavily scratched up due to the fall. The arms of your hoodie had torn revealing red lightly rash-burnt skin. You glared at the car, the windows tinted so you were unable to see who it was.
It was just a simple black car with tinted windows, nothing like a Lamborghini or sports car or whatever the so called Batman would have.
You got up and stormed over to the driver's side window, slamming your fist against the window.
"What the fuck dick-bag?!" You demanded, "You owe me the cost of repairs for my bike! Don't you realize how important this bike is to me!" You shouted.
The driver's and front passenger door opened and two men stepped out in business suits.
"What the-?"
You took several steps back as the passenger opened the trunk. The driver grabbed for you, but you dodged.
They were going to kidnap you!
You tried to run, but before you could get far the driver grabbed your arm and pulled you back. He pressed his arm against your throat well pulling your arm behind you. One wrong move and you'd either choke out or dislocate your shoulder. The passenger stepped into your view and reached under your chin to pull off your helmet.
You snarled at him.
When he saw your face he nodded at his partner and they dragged you over to the trunk.
"HELP!" You screamed.
"HELP ME! SOMEONE!" You shrieked.
They threw you in the trunk and slammed the top down.
"HELP ME!"...
A groan escaped your lips as you woke up.
You felt like shit.
Your throat was sore and dry and you had a raging headache. You rolled into your side but your muscles ached, your back especially. A harsh hiss escaped your nostrils from the pain.
Wait...why doesn't it smell like cigarette smoke?
Or like you had sprayed a fragrance to cover up the smell?
It smelled...clean.
You fluttered open your eyes, wincing at the soft light coming through the window.
Your eyes scanned the area, the walls were a pale pink color.
But your walls back home were (color)?
You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and scanned around the room. Everything was girly colors of pale pink and white with stuffed animals scattered around the room and even the bed you were laying on.
This definitely wasn't your room!
You scrambled out of the bed gazing around the room like everything was booby trapped.
You gazed down at your clothes and saw you were changed into a collared pajama set that was pink with a Minnie Mouse theme. Definitely not something you'd normally wear. With cautious steps, you strode to the exit door and gently tapped the knob to see if it was trapped. When it wasn't, you twisted the knob and saw you were able to open it.
You stepped out into the hallway. No one was waiting at the door to throw you back in. Your bare footsteps echoed in the bare hall as you hurried down to the other end. The halls seemed endless until at last you saw a light leading to another room. You cautiously stepped in and saw there was two people sitting at a dining table. A man and a woman you recognized as the King and Queen of Gotham.
You gasped alerting them of your presence. Before you could run out the woman noticed you.
"There she is!" She squealed with a wide smile.
You kept silent, scared.
This was The Joker and Harley Quinn!
Known for killing people for no reason!
"Come here sweetie!" She called, patting the chair beside her.
You didn't know whether to run or obey her order. Noticing your internal struggle, the woman got up and looped your arm with hers taking you over to the seat. You sat down gingerly glancing between her and the Joker who was scanning you. He could obviously tell you were scared--his purring grin and tapping of his gloved finger against the table didn't help either.
"Welcome home sweetie! You hungry?" She asked.
Before you could speak, a plate was set in front of you startling you. It was two dropped eggs with smiling bacon lips. Other plates were set in front of them as well, Harley chuckled and picked up her fork beginning to eat her breakfast.
"Aren't ya hungry sweetums? Or do you have a specific diet?" She asked.
You gathered enough courage to speak, "What am I doing here?"
She frowned and the Joker lifted his head. Harley placed her silverware down.
"Sweetie-" Harley began, reaching over.
You smacked her hand away, "I'm not your daughter. Now tell me why the fuck I'm here."
"You're here because you are our daughter. Harles always wanted a family, so that's why you're here. Your only option is to accept your role." He answered.
"I am not your daughter." You growled lowly, "And I am never going to accept your role."
You stood up from the table and began to walk out. When you arrived to the door, you felt a sharp pain on the back of your head and suddenly blacked out.
When you opened your eyes there was a blindingly bright light above you. You winced having to role your head to the side from how bright it was.
"Puddin' don't hurt her too bad!"
You tried to raise your arms only to find your wrists and ankles were tied down. Your back was pressed to a cold, metal table.
Across from you were a terrifying looking machine that was connected to a machine and a tube that lead to something you couldn't see.
The Joker grinned as he stepped into your view.
"Good afternoon sweetheart."
"Go fuck yourself!" You spat.
"My, my, I was hoping I would do this after dinner but it seems not." The Joker sighed.
You tugged on the bonds harder, bowing your back as you screamed and struggled.
Harley leaned over and gently kissed your forehead as if she actually cared about you.
"It's okay sweetheart, you will be a totally different you! You'll be happy all the time and will rule the city with us!" She giggled.
Before you could question what she meant you saw the Joker fiddle with the machine.
It was an old electrotherapy machine used in the old mental asylums.
"No! Please! No!" You shrieked.
Tears of fear and desperation streamed down onto the cold metal table below you.
"NO! NOO!" You screamed.
For once you believed in Batman, Batman would save you, right?!
He couldn't save your father but he could save you!
He will!
You pleaded and begged but the Joker only seemed to get a kick out of it as he grabbed the pegs leading to your death.
"Harles, the gag!" He ordered.
"Yep!"
You sobbed as a thick leather gag separated your teeth and wrapped around your head.
"Turn it up!"
"Yes, puddin'!" She called gleefully as if she wasn't about to fry the brain of an innocent teenage girl.
There was a low buzz. You could feel your arm hairs tingle from the electricity coming from the machine.
You screamed and struggled harder, shaking your head.
"Pin her head down!" He growled.
Harley--already wearing special gloves--held your head down by your forehead and chin. You tried to move your head but her grip was nearly bruising.
He rubbed the pegs together.
"It'll only hurt for a second," Joker assured.
He pressed them against your temples.
NO!!!....
Dead bodies laid scattered about.
A mouth grinned as their tongue licked the blood coated knife.
A gloved hand shoved a man's body onto the floor. His neck was slit open from ear to ear, his face forever paralyzed with fear.
"Sweetie?" Harley called, "Are you ready to get going?"
You grinned, your pale white face accentuated by your cold. (eye color) eyes and red lips.
"I'm ready mother..." ....