The Banker's Date, part 1.
May. 10th, 2009 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielartanis- First, massive props go out to my homegirl
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paisleydaze, who suggested that the Joker date an investment banker. Sophia "Sweet Sophie" Carteres is for her. - Pop Rocks actually were called Space Dust back in the 70s. I know this because I am old.
- The account the Joker tells about his friend wanting his girlfriend to just shut up and look good actually happened. A coworker of mine in the Pit was lamenting that his girlfriend was always telling him what to do, where to do it, how to do it, etc. He continued on with his hoof in mouth disease by saying that all he wanted her to do was to shut up and look good. This caused all manner of strife between myself and him, fueled by numero uno Devil's Advocate green_goblin7t, with whom we both worked at the time. Those were good times, so I had to include some sort of reference that hearkened back to happier days for me. Just tryin' to put a smiiiile on that face o'mine. It gets harder and harder to do each day.
- The Joker's hatred of Mick Engel mirrors my own dislike for Anthony Michael Hall. I was always mildly fond of him until I saw him in Edward Scissorhands. From then on, I've hated him. Shallow of me, I know, but that movie hit me every wrong way it could and I'm still not over it. I couldn't look at Johnny Depp for two years after seeing the film. Glad I got over that.
- All the songs featured in this story are real songs by real artists and exist on my real iPod, Son of iGor. Just so's ya know.
- GFNB is patterned after my wonderful experiences with Bank of America. Take that however you wish. If you live in America and didn't vote for Dubya, I'm sure you have your own lovely bank experiences you can transfer the Joker's derision onto. Feel free. It's cathartic. Trust me.
- Some of the mannerisms displayed by J in this fic are post TDK and influenced by The Joker Blogs Joker. Like he says in the first installment, "I get to people." He's certainly gotten to me. That's not to say I'm disloyal to Heath's interpretation or anything like that. I'm enamoured of the Joker character as portrayed by Heath Ledger, but the JB dude comes in a close second and provides an extended inspiration for those of us open to his particular brand of madness. I respect those who don't cotton to him, but I also would like that respect returned to me in my choice to play along with this talented soul and his team of malcontents. Just sayin'...
- And, finally, I found out today that the mother_unit has been reading and approves of my Date Series. I'm very gratified by this. It's not often you find out that your mum is reading your smutfic and digging every word of it. But I would like to make it very clear that it's her fault I'm writing the Date Series. If she hadn't shown me The Dark Knight during her ChristmaHanukKwanzaYule visit, I wouldn't have been struck down by the Power that is the Joker.
So that's that. In the words of our mischievous hero: "And here...we...go..."
The Banker’s Date
He sat in a tree less than a block away from Wayne Manor, watching the gate with a singular Will, just waiting, waiting for Bruce Wayne to arrive at the gate, either coming or going, and find the new gift there. So far, despite his best efforts, the Joker had been unable to get a rise out of the Batman. He had deposited several mauled and maimed women and men at the gates of Wayne Manor in the hope that one of them would finally compel Bruce-y Boy to don his Hallowe’en costume and come out and play, all to no avail.
This new gift, a policeman who’d walked his beat a bit too close to the Joker the night before, was in three pieces: the bisected body and the big, ugly head. He could have taken the lazy route and just bisected the cop, but the Joker wanted to go that extra mile and didn’t want to be compared to the killer of the Black Dahlia. The work had been bloody and time-consuming, but surely it would be worth it. The Joker hadn’t slept all night because of this Major Undertaking and he was close to nodding off while cradled on the large tree branch that proved to be the best vantage point to the gates.
He shook his head violently, his green-tinted hair swinging with the motion, and blinked his blackened eyes, rolling them around in their sockets to try to stay awake.
“This is ridiculous,” the Joker hissed. He turned onto his stomach and hugged the branch, cursing himself for forgetting his iPod. The wait would have gone by so much faster if he’d just had his tunes. “Does the sonofabitch even live there anymorrre?”
About that time, a luxurious black automobile rounded the corner of the long, wooded driveway that led from Wayne Manor. The Joker perked up and began to chuckle quietly. The automatic gates began to open and the car stopped. The Joker watched a tall, dark-haired man exit the vehicle from behind wheel. It was him, the psycho Bat himself. He walked slowly around the three packages, examining each one with escalating agitation. When Wayne turned away from the Joker’s latest gift and slammed his fist down on the hood of his car, the Joker almost fell out of the tree, he laughed so hard. He remembered all too well the power behind that fist, especially when its owner was a tad on the testy side. It tickled the Joker seven shades of pink to see how impotent he’d once again rendered the invincible Batman. All that power and strength, and nowhere to go with it. Surely this would get Wayne back in his bulletproof leotards and on the streets of Gotham. If not, well, the Joker just loved wrapping and giving gifts. Every day could be Christmas as far as he was concerned. He had a city full of presents from which to pick and choose.
For now, though, he’d had enough. The Joker was sleepy. Swinging his feet down from the branch, he dangled for a few seconds by his fingers before letting go, landing lightly on the ground. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a cell phone and pressed a couple of buttons, smacking his lips with impatience.
“Sidney, come get me, it’s time to go home.” He didn’t wait for a response before he hung up. He knew the car would be showing up before he could say “Sidney, you’re a dead man.” And, sure enough, Sidney turned onto the street almost immediately. The Joker slipped into the car and watched Wayne make a call of his own as they passed him by unheeded. Again, the Joker howled with laughter, this time as loudly as he pleased. He grabbed the car seat in front of him, and rocked to and fro with glee. Sidney joined in here and there, only really caring about getting back to base so he could grab some shut-eye. He’d been up with the Joker all night and he was pretty weary himself.
The drive was a long one. They were based on the other side of town, still in that ramshackle mill house in what someone like Bruce Wayne would call a seedy area. That was fine with the Joker. He liked seedy. He was seedy. He reveled in seediness. Oh, and how he loved sowing his seeds. Seeds of anarchy, not love, despite his affection for that Tears for Fears song.
About halfway through their trip, the Joker finally quieted down with the raucous laughter, much to Sidney’s relief. Sidney was more than a little uneasy around his boss when he was in a full manic state. That laughter could literally turn to slaughter with a slight change in the barometric pressure. You just..never..knew. And that’s why Sidney almost ran off the road and into a light pole when the Joker screamed “STOP STOP GODAMMIT STOP!”
The car came to a screeching halt with the passenger-side front tire up on the curb. People on the sidewalk scattered and squealed with fright. Sidney heard a loud thump behind him and he moved his rearview mirror to see what had happened. To his horror, he saw the Joker pulling himself from out of the floorboard. “Oh, hell. Mister J, I’m sorry.”
All he got was a poisonous glare from his disheveled boss.
“No, really. I’m sorry. You – I was caught off guard.”
“Well, therrre’s your lesson for the day, Sid-neee. Never let your guard down. I’ll be getting out here. I’ll meet you back home laterrr.”
“Whatever you say, boss. Thanks.” Sidney watched as the Joker got out of the car and slammed the door behind him, immediately going into Trudge mode as the people in his path parted like the Red Sea. He exhaled the large pocket of breath he’d been holding, backed the car off the curb, and resumed his trip home. The Joker must be in an exceptionally good mood for Sidney to not have merited a knife in the neck right about now. Or Sidney must be the luckiest man on the planet. Or it could be a combination of the two. That was more like it. Still though, Sidney found himself rethinking his career choices and not for the first time. Maybe it was time for him to move along down that road and let someone else be the first person Mister J sees if and/or when something goes awry. Then something occurred to Sidney: what if something went awry right now and he wasn’t around to bail his boss out of a hairy situation? Did he think “disappearing” would allow him the right to live? No. If the Joker wanted something or someone bad enough, he devised a way to get it. Or them. There was no safe place. Maybe Sidney should circle the area for a little while just to make sure the boss was okay before heading back to base.
Meanwhile, the Joker continued his walk back up Pike Avenue. He took the middle of the sidewalk, not caring about the people who had to dodge out of his way or the ones he literally knocked out of his way. He didn’t want to miss the person he was looking for and the middle of a walkway was best for covering all your bases when on the lookout for someone.
And there..she..was.
Beautiful, gorgeous, luscious. Like a ripe peach, this one. Beyond compare. Her short black hair framed a perfectly symmetrical olive face, which was graced with large chocolate eyes, a button nose, and a perfect red bow of a mouth. Oh, and the expression on that beauteous face of hers? Tenacious. The Joker was on his knees for her tenacity. She had stopped at the corner of Pike and Kirk, preparing to cross with a herd of nameless, faceless VUPs (very unimportant people). She was dressed in a dark blue business suit and stood confidently in a pair of sensible shoes. Her outfit fit her expression and stance perfectly. Everything about her was perfect.
The Joker caught up with her just as the walk sign flickered on to give the herd permission to cross the street.
“Lovely morning, isn’t it?” he said to her, letting the sleeve of his purple overcoat brush against her arm.
She turned, her determined face transforming into one of shock. “You…. You get away from me. Somebody, help!” the woman shouted, getting the attention of the people around her. “It’s the Joker! He’s a criminal, a murderer! Somebody call the police!”
“The hell?” was all the Joker could say as he witnessed several people pull out cell phones and dial 911. “Can’t even have a civil conversation with a lovely ladeee without somebody acting the fool.”
“You get the fuck away from me. Somebody! Are the police on their way?” The Joker regretted sending Sidney home. If he were around, this minor glitch in the plan he hadn’t forged yet would be easily solved with a quick yank into the car and a trip to home sweet home.
The Joker moved swiftly, grabbing the beautiful business woman behind the neck and placing a knife in the corner of her mouth. “I was going to buy you breakfast, you unpleasant harpie, but I guess I’ll be eating alone after I take care of your rude, ungrateful ass. I mean, really, why behave like that? Is it the scars? Do they alarm you? Do you wanna know how I got them?”
About that time, Sidney pulled up and rolled the window down. “Need a quick exit boss?”
“Sidney! Are you my Psychic Friend? Did Dionne Warwick send you? HA HA HA HA HAHA HA! C’mere, Sesame Seed.” The woman tried to get away, kicking at the Joker and pulling away from him to some extent, but it wasn’t enough. “I said c’merrrre.”
The Joker shoved the woman into the car and got in behind her. Turning to the pack of fearless cell phone wielders who looked on in horror, the Joker said, “Oh stop looking so concerned. You’re only hoping to see your ugly faces on GCN tonight while you eat your bland little dinners. Go gossip about this drama around the water cooler now and be the good little lemmings that you are.”
He spat at their feet. “You sheeple make me sick. Onward, Sidney, onward!”
And Sidney drove home while the Joker wrestled his new lady love to the point of exhaustion for them both. In the breathless silence that ensued, the Joker asked, “What’s your name, Sweetheart?”
His response was a driven slap to his face. Sidney instinctively sunk down in the driver’s seat and tried to keep his eyes on the road. He didn’t see it, but he heard the vicious slap that followed.
“If you won’t tell me your name, I’ll just go through your fucking wallet,” the Joker growled. More wrestling ensued, then things quieted down in the back seat except for a bit of rustling. Sidney stole a peek in his mirror and saw Mister J examining the woman’s wallet. “So, Miss Sophia Carteres, what do you do at the Gotham First-t National Bank-k? Oh wait wait, it’s right here. Ah, you’re a bank manager and loan officer! I bet you’re really popular with the unwashed masses these days, aren’tcha, Blackberry? I can just imagine all the other names you probably have thanks to your choice of careeerrs.”
The Joker cackled with uninhibited glee as he rifled through the rest of Sophia’s wallet and purse. “Oh, nice shade of lipstick ~ Wild Berries. It matches your personaliteeee. What’s this? Ooops!” He stuffed Sophia’s panty liner back into her small purse, waggled his eyebrows and licked his lips. “Didn’t mean to impose on your unmentionabullsss.”
About that time, Sidney pulled into the driveway. It’d been a long night and an even longer morning. He’d never been so happy to see homebase.
“Home sweet home!” the Joker exclaimed. “C’mon Sophia. C’mon c’mon c’mon!”
The Joker had to drag Sophia from the car. Sidney unlocked and opened the side door of the house, letting the Joker and his reluctant guest go in first. He then closed and locked the door behind him.
“Let me go, you bastard!” Sophia screamed, twisting and kicking in the Joker’s unwavering grip.
“Sidney, go get a couple of the boys and tell them to make breakfast for two, three if you’re interested in joining us. Then you can go do whatever. Sleep, watch TV, relax, whatever. You’ve earned it, my man.” The Joker clapped Sidney on the shoulder before turning his attention back to Sophia. He dipped her back a little in his arms and studied her exotic features. She was incredibly beautiful. Even though the Joker preferred his women with long hair, he found himself quite fond of Sophia’s boy cut hair. It fit her, her face and personality, from all he could tell during their short time together. There was no denying she was a definite spitfire. He liked that.
Wrestling Sophia into the living room, the Joker closed and locked all the doors, then let her go. She immediately went for the windows only to discover they wouldn’t open and were made of some kind of unbreakable glass. The Joker plopped down on the couch and watched his new plaything explore her new surroundings.
“What the fuck is that?” she asked, pointing at Leopold who was waddling happily through a tube connecting one habitat to another.
Lowering his head and leering at her, the Joker licked his lips and said, “That is an African pygmy hedgehog and off limits to you.” He chewed the inside of his cheek with instant anger at Sophia.
“Good, keep it the hell away from me,” Sophia said, sidling away from Leopold. She wasn’t fond of anything that looked like a rat. This Leopold did, at least to her. Rats freaked Sophia out. Rats, snakes, spiders. She tried not to be a girlie-girl but, in this respect, she undeniably was.
“Ya know, I almost made my man Sidney wreck because of you. I saw you walking down the street and, Great Googily Moogily! You were ravishing! I shouted for him to stop so I could get out and invite you to a late breakfast. But-t…. The more you talk, the lessss ravishing you become. Maybe you should do what a friend of mine once suggested his girlfriend-d do: just-t shut up and look good.”
“Why, you sexist asshole! I don’t have to take this verbal abuse! I’m a bank manager for one of the biggest banks in Gotham. I’ll be missed, you know. There were plenty of people who saw you take me, so do you really think you’ll get away with this?”
“Yeah.”
The two stared at one another. Sophia shook with nervousness and rage while the Joker let his head bobble just enough to communicate his nonchalance and amusement, despite his own ire. He quietly smacked his lips and twiddled his gloved thumbs, waiting for Sophia’s next move.
Her next move was to grab up her purse and start looking through it frantically.
“Looking for this?” the Joker asked, he voice languid. In his left hand, he jiggled Sophia’s iPhone. Sophia visibly wilted. “So do you have much music on this thing or do you keep it solely for business? Hm?”
When Sophia didn’t answer, he continued. “I have an iPod. A – ah – a Classic. 30 gig. Lotsa tunes. Given to me by an old flame. She was a dentist, which is a much loftier career than a banker. Bankers are thieves and charlatans.”
“You’re one to talk, being a bank robber and all-round criminal.”
The Joker put hand over his mouth in mock offense. “I can’t believe you’d say that!” The Joker was off the couch and had one hand at the back of Sophia’s neck, the other pinching her chin. “You forgot sociopath, mass murderer, and freak-k, my sweet little Pop Rock. Which reminds me, do you know that Pop Rocks used to be called Space Dust and it was nothing more than a bag of sweet sand that would fizzle and pop when you’d pour it on your tongue? Yeah, it’s true! That was back in the 70s, when Coke was made with sugar and Rock’n’Roll was still listenabullll. Oh, but listen to me, the King of Trivia! Yeah, in addition to being the Clown Prince of Crime, I’m also the King of Trivia. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, sister.”
There came a knock at one of the living room doors. “Boss, breakfast is ready. Do you want it in there?”
“Yeah, I’m unlocking the door now, so c’mon in,” the Joker said, letting Sophia go to open the door. He stayed between her and the door the entire time the Joker’s two henchmen brought in breakfast on two large trays. There was milk and juice, pancakes, bacon, cheese omelette, strawberries, and bananas.
Sophia looked at the spread and shook her head. “Pfff.. Eating good off the backs of others.”
“Of courrrse, just like you, sweet Sophie!” the Joker said, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “The only difference is, I’m doing it off the backs of people who actually deserrrve it. What’s your excuse O banker o’mine?”
Scowling at him, Sophia took up a fork and speared a strip of bacon, nibbling reluctantly around the edges. She’d planned on eating when she got to work. So much for that, thanks to this clown. As bacon is prone to do, the few nibbles she had jumpstarted her hunger and, before Sophia knew it, she’d filled her plate with a little bit of everything available. The Joker watched her appreciatively. He liked a woman with an appetite. It showed that she loved living in every way, not the least of which was lovemaking. The Joker found himself getting lost in the idea of making love to Sophia. Well, making love might be too strong of a term or, rather, too weak of one. He wanted to fuck her. Despite her trying to get him arrested, despite the fact that she was a….the Joker mentally swallowed with horror….a banker, and that she was elitist and rude, he still wanted to fuck her eight ways to Easter Sunday.
They ate in silence, Sophia because she had nothing to say to the Clown Prince of Crime, the Joker because he was lost to the visions of fuckery dancing in his head. He was punchy from lack of sleep and having been several hours out from coming down from a murder high, so Mister J was close to being completely off his proverbial rocker. Perhaps it would be a wiser choice to put his new play toy away and take a nap. Besides, the Joker was certain he looked a fright, having been working all night and finished tree-climbing not an hour prior to picking up his lovely flower.
When it was apparent they’d both finished their meal, the Joker called in the henchman who’d brought them breakfast. “Take little Sophia here and put her in the basement. Don’t let anyone down there and don’t let her talk you into letting her out.”
“What? Wait – “
“Shut up, Coffee Bean, and live to see this evening. Keep yapping and I’ll cut your tongue out before I kill you bit-t by bit-t.”
Sophia shut up.
“I’m going to take a nap. It was a long night. When Sidney gets up, tell him where Sophia is and that I’m napping. Tell him to watch out for her until I get up. Can you do that?”
“Yes sir.”
“You sure? I don’t want to have to cut your throat because you’re dumb as hell.”
“You can count on me.”
“Did you make our breakfast this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it was damned tasty.”
“Thank you!”
“Don’t fuck up and you’ll have a permanent gig with me, as my own personal Gordon Ramsay.”
“Who?”
“Neverrr mind. Just don’t fuck up. Dig?”
“Yes sir! I mean, no sir! I mean, uh..”
The Joker rolled his bloodshot eyes and tromped off to his bedroom for some shut-eye. If the goon did fuck up and Sophia got away, it wouldn’t take anything to find her. He knew her name and memorized her address when he pulled her ID from her wallet. She would be retrieved, no problem.
