New York was a very different city, when you weren't the leader of the underground movement anymore. Not so many guns aimed at one's head. No more thinking from one job to the next. Nowadays, Steph thought in weeks. Months, even. What repairs needed done to the house. When and if Voldemort was going to attack again. Why a whole batch of in-laws had just showed up on her front porch
( ... )
To Stephanie' credit, she didn't outwardly seize up when she heard the Joker call out. Didn't acknowledge him in any capacity. Her response wouldn't change anything. He'd seen her taking down what was his, so he'd come to retrieve it.
She did, however, cut a hell of a lot faster.
And then the Joker was even closer, and Steph felt like she was fourteen years old again. Terrified, inexperienced, dealing with someone way outside of her experience level.
Except she wasn't fourteen. She was twenty seven years old, she was competent, and she was armed. With that in mind, she turned to look at the Joker.
And he didn't look a damn thing like the one she'd known. The aura was still there. The movements -- or the lack thereof. You couldn't read the Joker. He didn't have any set pattern. He was as likely to ask you nicely for something as he was to throw acid at you
( ... )
There was a kind of grand satisfaction in the sick squish-thump sound bodies made when they smacked against hard surfaces, but that was not the point here. There was a bothersome little girl, who was... well, running away from him. Hadn't she ever been taught manners? Leaving in the middle of a conversation, it was so rude. He'd been so polite and she was all unappreciative.
What did she even mean by 'no'? He did so dislike that word sometimes.
"No?" he repeated, watching all interested, intrigued, almost like a science experiment, clinical notes how her shoulders tensed. Almost scientific, how he targeted his attacks against people. "You'll need to elaborate a... smidge more than that, perhaps no as in, no, these are not my bodies. Or possibly no, I don't know who you are." He paused, slid down the railing again, watched her climb up his Mountain O' Hobos.
"No, I don't like the smell of dead, homeless schmuck in the morning?" That wasn't it at all. "Possibly no, I did not mean to cut those bodies down and I will return them to
( ... )
It wasn't every day that John stumbled across the scene of a murder.
Scratch that. He often did stumble across the scene of a murder, because just look at who he lived with. Toad didn't kill people much, but he a creepy ass long tongue and that was weird enough. Sabertooth... well, he didn't need to say much about that. Sabertooth dragged little girls back to their place. Magneto and Mystique? They only killed outside - and John was much more focused on ignoring them in their down time. Something weird was going on there, he'd swear it.
Weird in the kind of naughty-between-the-sheets way, and Mystique could turn into anybody, and
( ... )
Or railings. Of fire escapes. Down four stories. Whichever, discrepancies were boring, anyway, he looked like a surfer of some sorts, sliding down these stairs and jumped to a stop right in front of this... man boy. Pig. Thing. Why always the clown nods? Did he really look that much like a clown? Joker ran his thumb up his scars for a minute, debating.
"New class of clown!" Joker corrected nonetheless, spreading his arms wide and looking up to his masterpiece. Of dead hobos. "What do you think? I think The Times aren't going to be appreciative of this as their usual art critique goes. Real shame."
And then, on a completely different note, tilted his head at John, pointed his knife at him for a moment in consideration. Because there were a lot of people afraid of clowns, except the little stinky brats who didn't know much better, and he liked to get to the bottom of things sometimes, just to see what made people tick and work and spin like tops.
"You ever seen It?" he asked with a raised
( ... )
For a moment, John thought he might have just found somebody weirder than Mystique. And trust him, it took a lot to be weirder than her. She was hot, granted, but fucking twisted and could probably kill most people with just one of her feet.
Oh, and hey, there was a knife being randomly pointed at him. Shit.
"What the fuck, asshole, don't wave that shit at me," John snapped. Click, snap, and fire was curling around a hand held loosely at his side. Just in case of crazy bastards.
And now was he was being asked about what movies he'd seen? John just snorted slightly, raising his eyes to look at the ten bodies. I'm back? He was pretty sure that he would have heard of some crazy guy that... okay, maybe he wouldn't have. There were a lot of crazy guys that killed and wore makeup
( ... )
The knife thing wasn't anything personal, honest. Sometimes Joker just forgot he was holding one, he did so often. It was like some kind of really pointy ring or something! No biggie!
Still, he couldn't say he regretted doing it, not with how this guy had reacted to it. Not that he would have anyway, really, but a second look confirmed that this guy's hand was on fire and that was kind of really cool, Joker couldn't lie.
Aw, the fire went away. What fun was that?
Blah, blah, yes, the introduction of quality clown movies, Joker actually wasn't too big a fan of It, classic as it was. The graphics were crap and the only part he liked about it was Tim Curry munched on some random kids' limbs, there was fire here, ladies and gentlemen, and it was really interesting. Joker was swooping down to grab at his hand, look around all curious-like. "How did you do that
( ... )
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To Stephanie' credit, she didn't outwardly seize up when she heard the Joker call out. Didn't acknowledge him in any capacity. Her response wouldn't change anything. He'd seen her taking down what was his, so he'd come to retrieve it.
She did, however, cut a hell of a lot faster.
And then the Joker was even closer, and Steph felt like she was fourteen years old again. Terrified, inexperienced, dealing with someone way outside of her experience level.
Except she wasn't fourteen. She was twenty seven years old, she was competent, and she was armed. With that in mind, she turned to look at the Joker.
And he didn't look a damn thing like the one she'd known. The aura was still there. The movements -- or the lack thereof. You couldn't read the Joker. He didn't have any set pattern. He was as likely to ask you nicely for something as he was to throw acid at you ( ... )
Reply
What did she even mean by 'no'? He did so dislike that word sometimes.
"No?" he repeated, watching all interested, intrigued, almost like a science experiment, clinical notes how her shoulders tensed. Almost scientific, how he targeted his attacks against people. "You'll need to elaborate a... smidge more than that, perhaps no as in, no, these are not my bodies. Or possibly no, I don't know who you are." He paused, slid down the railing again, watched her climb up his Mountain O' Hobos.
"No, I don't like the smell of dead, homeless schmuck in the morning?" That wasn't it at all. "Possibly no, I did not mean to cut those bodies down and I will return them to ( ... )
Reply
Scratch that. He often did stumble across the scene of a murder, because just look at who he lived with. Toad didn't kill people much, but he a creepy ass long tongue and that was weird enough. Sabertooth... well, he didn't need to say much about that. Sabertooth dragged little girls back to their place. Magneto and Mystique? They only killed outside - and John was much more focused on ignoring them in their down time. Something weird was going on there, he'd swear it.
Weird in the kind of naughty-between-the-sheets way, and Mystique could turn into anybody, and ( ... )
Reply
Or railings. Of fire escapes. Down four stories. Whichever, discrepancies were boring, anyway, he looked like a surfer of some sorts, sliding down these stairs and jumped to a stop right in front of this... man boy. Pig. Thing. Why always the clown nods? Did he really look that much like a clown? Joker ran his thumb up his scars for a minute, debating.
"New class of clown!" Joker corrected nonetheless, spreading his arms wide and looking up to his masterpiece. Of dead hobos. "What do you think? I think The Times aren't going to be appreciative of this as their usual art critique goes. Real shame."
And then, on a completely different note, tilted his head at John, pointed his knife at him for a moment in consideration. Because there were a lot of people afraid of clowns, except the little stinky brats who didn't know much better, and he liked to get to the bottom of things sometimes, just to see what made people tick and work and spin like tops.
"You ever seen It?" he asked with a raised ( ... )
Reply
Oh, and hey, there was a knife being randomly pointed at him. Shit.
"What the fuck, asshole, don't wave that shit at me," John snapped. Click, snap, and fire was curling around a hand held loosely at his side. Just in case of crazy bastards.
And now was he was being asked about what movies he'd seen? John just snorted slightly, raising his eyes to look at the ten bodies. I'm back? He was pretty sure that he would have heard of some crazy guy that... okay, maybe he wouldn't have. There were a lot of crazy guys that killed and wore makeup ( ... )
Reply
Still, he couldn't say he regretted doing it, not with how this guy had reacted to it. Not that he would have anyway, really, but a second look confirmed that this guy's hand was on fire and that was kind of really cool, Joker couldn't lie.
Aw, the fire went away. What fun was that?
Blah, blah, yes, the introduction of quality clown movies, Joker actually wasn't too big a fan of It, classic as it was. The graphics were crap and the only part he liked about it was Tim Curry munched on some random kids' limbs, there was fire here, ladies and gentlemen, and it was really interesting. Joker was swooping down to grab at his hand, look around all curious-like. "How did you do that ( ... )
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