TW: MENTION OF DRUGS!!

It had been three weeks since the heist at Gotham Bank, and so far, you were holding up okay as Joker's "girlfriend." Part of this was owed to the fact that these three weeks weren't exactly packed with missions. After all, you and your team only went out for two comparably small robberies. It was originally a little weird to have Joker touch you and put on this lovey-dovey show, but you managed to pull yourself together and play along. It was rather difficult to not get distracted from your goals, since you couldn't deny that you liked his attention. But, you managed, stealing anything he needed and killing anyone he requested.

  In addition to the two robberies, you had been spending a lot of time at Joker's club, The Last Laugh. Since you and him were pretending to be an item, it was only expected that he would drag you to a lot of his deals. You watched each one occur, unflinching as he brutally murdered those he couldn't negotiate with. You didn't have to do much; you were merely a trophy. But, still, every time someone sat down to negotiate, they looked a little more nervous when they saw you. And every time, the anxiety on their faces made you smile.

   After spectating a few deals, Joker encouraged you to do some business of your own at the club. That way, you could do something away from him and away from the team. You'd have something that was uniquely yours.

   Unsure of what business you could possibly do, you settled on selling drugs for insane prices. If your client couldn't meet your standards, you'd simply put a bullet between their eyes. This threat both settled a lot of deals, and took a lot of lives. You were fine with either scenario; money was money, publicity was publicity. And boy, did those murders gain you publicity.

   Now, people began to know you as a shark of sorts. A money-hungry bitch who was just as crazy as her boyfriend. You embraced this reputation, knowing that soon, you wouldn't have to be considered Joker's girlfriend anymore. You could be your own person, while still providing him aid whenever he needed it. After all, how shitty would it be for you to just stop helping when you became famous? After everything Joker had done for you, good-intentioned or not, you owed him your loyalty.

Presently, you were at The Last Laugh, absently sipping a drink in the VIP lounge. You had a deal to make, and you were excitedly awaiting your client. From what you had heard, he was a lower-level villain in the city looking to buy some cocaine. You still felt pretty giddy at having the opportunity to intimidate someone all by yourself, without the help of your mentor.

There was a beaded curtain that separated the VIP lounge from the rest of the club, and it rustled as your client pushed through. You weren't sure of his real name, but he insisted that you call him Sting. You had fought the urge to laugh, since that would prevent him from even coming to you for his drugs. It was for that reason that you also withheld your prices; no sane person would go for them unless they were held at gunpoint.

Sting was a rather short man, yet he was very built as well. He had long, black hair that fell to his shoulders, and tattoos covered both his arms. His shirt looked a little too small for him, a cheap way to accentuate his muscles and appear stronger than he was. Just by that, you could tell he would try to be an alpha male. You were used to that game, and were determined to nip it in the bud so you could either collect your check, or scare the club's patrons with that resounding bang.

"Sting," you greeted pleasantly, smiling up at him from your seat. You gestured to the seat across from you before folding your hands on the table before you. "Please, have a seat."

You could tell he was trying not to appear scared as he sat down, but the fact he was even trying at all proved that he was. After all, the news was reporting you more and more, and your cash reward kept climbing with every murder you committed. It was now at five hundred thousand dollars, when it had started at fifty thousand. You were determined to get it higher.

"I got the good shit for ya." You grinned at the weirdly silent man before you, pulling a small ziplock bag out of your pocket. It was about an eighth of the way filled with the white powder that Gotham's freaks went crazy for.

Sting eyed the bag with his eyes narrowed. "How much for it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Six hundred," you replied, your grin unchanging. If he agreed to your price, great. If he didn't, great. You had absolutely nothing to lose here.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Six hundred?!" he echoed. He stared at the bag, blinking rapidly. "There's not even a gram in that bag!"

You shrugged, placing the bag on the table with your hand gently covering it. "It's good coke," you replied nonchalantly. "So, are you gonna pay up or not? I'm busy."

"Fuck no! I don't got that kind of money, dog! Can we like...negotiate or something?"

"Unfortunately not. My prices are my prices."

With a wicked grin that seemed to mirror Joker's, you pulled a handgun out of your pocket and held it up to Sting. You clicked the safety off, patting the ziplock bag in a rhythmic pattern. "Last chance to change your mind. Otherwise, you'll have to suffer the consequences of wasting my time."

His shaky mask of composure immediately crumbled. You saw him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Look," he began, his forehead starting to perspire, "I really don't have the money right now. But, if you let me go and let me run home, I can grab it."

You chuckled. "Pal, do you think I was born yesterday? Pay up now, or suffer the consequences."

   "I can't!" he cried out desperately.

   "Last chance."

   Resignation swept over Sting's face, resignation that quickly morphed to anger. He knew he was going to die, and you knew he'd take his frustrations out on you before he did. "Look, fuck you!" he hissed, standing up. "I don't know who you think you are, but you ain't shit! Being the Joker's whore doesn't make you somethin'! You're just a bitch who happened to get fucked by the right guy!"

   You watched his tirade, amused. "Thankfully, J wasn't here to hear that. Otherwise, your death would've come a lot slower than this."

   And with that, you aimed your gun and shot him right in the head.

   The bang that followed left your body trembling with exhilaration. The thrill of murder never got old; in fact, the more you did it, the more addicting it got.

   Sting crumbled to the ground, blood pooling around his corpse. You sighed happily, leaning back in your chair as you returned the ziplock bag to your pocket. This life was exactly the life you had wanted. Your life couldn't get any better.

   Another rustle of the beaded curtain grabbed your attention. Instead of another client, Joker walked into the lounge. You couldn't help but smile once you saw him. "Hey, J."

   He looked down at Sting's lifeless body, tapping him with his foot. "Well done, Trouble," he praised you with a grin.

   "Thanks. What brings you here? Did you have a deal or something?" Joker had accompanied you to the club, but you didn't recall him having any deals to close. You had thought that he was just coming to drink and cause some general mayhem.

   "No, I just came to deliver some news."

   You straightened in your seat, your head tilted to the side with interest. "Good or bad?"

   "I'd say good. We have a mission tomorrow. I know it's last minute, but if it goes well, it'll save us a lot of trouble."

   "What do you mean?"

   Joker pulled out the chair that Sting had been sitting on and sat down, interlocking his fingers and resting his chin on his hands. "Frost has received word from other villains that Two-Face is sending an aid to spy on us, our operations, and our whereabouts. This aid just recently called Frost inquiring about a position on our team, but that was before we had heard about his real intentions. So, I agreed to meet with him and discuss whether or not he'd be a good fit for the team, since Dennis needs replacing. Our meeting was originally set for tomorrow morning at 11:00 AM, right here at the club. And it still will be, but instead of a civil discussion, we will be torturing the fuck out of him until he reveals what information Two-Face is looking for. And then, we'll kill him."

   You nodded with resolve. Joker's secrets were your secrets, his plans were your plans. These secrets and plans felt very intimate and personal to you. So, the very notion of someone undeservingly knowing them was enough to make your blood boil. No one outside of your clique was entitled to it, especially not Two-Face.

Though, you did have one concern. "Do you think Two-Face will come looking for his aid? I just wanna be prepared in case we're gonna have to fight."

Joker shook his head. "No, sweets. Despite his reputation, Two-Face has proven to be quite a coward. He avoids confrontations with me at all costs. I'm fairly certain he'll just cut his losses when his little bitch goes missing."

You nodded again. "Who else is going? Everyone?"

"No, just us two and Frost. He's only one guy, so I don't see the need to bring the entire team."

You grinned playfully. "So, why'd you pick me, then?"

He shrugged with an equally playful smirk. "Figured you'd like to try torture. Would I be wrong in that assumption, Trouble?" he asked.

The thought of expanding your criminal horizons made you smile wider. "You would be extremely correct in that assumption, boss. Thank you for including me in this."

"You'll always be included as long as you keep doing stuff like this," he responded, gesturing to Sting's body.

"I intend to," you replied, looking down at it with pride. That gruesome scene was all your doing. His life, his memories, his dreams... All gone in an instant. All gone because of you. You found yourself wondering what those memories were. What those hopes were. Knowing what they were would allow you to relish their absence even more.

You could hear one of your favorite songs blaring from the club's speakers, causing you to stand up with a smirk. You figured you'd have some fun before your mission the following morning. Why not? You deserved a night of clubbing. "I'm gonna go dance. Care to join me?"

You were thrown off by your own question. You had never been so bold behind closed doors. You had never been flirty unless it was completely necessary to the public's perception of the two of you. But, right now, you didn't have to fake anything. You didn't have to dance with him in order to convince the general public of your relationship. You asked just to ask, and that made you uncomfortable.

Joker was clearly taken aback by the offer, too. He smirked, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pressed a soft kiss to your neck before whispering in your ear, "No thank you, sweetheart. I'd much rather watch the show."

There was no one watching. Not a soul. So, why was he holding you like this?

And why did you like it? His hands felt so strong, his lips so soft, his breath so hot...

"Okay," you squeaked, the rejection not even fazing you due to his suave delivery. You grabbed his arms and gently pulled them off of you. Clearly, this fake relationship had been blurring the lines of what was business and what was pleasure. You figured his motive in touching you like this was lust, nothing more, but still. That didn't bode well for a working relationship, despite your lust being more than shared. Yet, you couldn't help but smile as you pushed past the beaded curtain and ran out of the VIP lounge.

You couldn't help the quiet giggles that left your lips as you ran. Joker's flirtatious moments were absolutely intoxicating in public, but in private, they were potent. It's not like he had never touched you in private before, but this...this was different. He had touched your face, but he had never held you like a girlfriend in private before. He had never planted a kiss on you in private before. Your head was reeling from what this could mean, but you refused to let yourself dwell on it for too long. You could not feed into this privately romantic behavior. It was too dangerous.

Once you made it to the dance floor, you sighed heavily, letting your thoughts morph into the lyrics of your song. You were here to have fun, not think about some stupid boy.

You let yourself feel the music, moving your hips and putting your hands in the air. You really were living the good life; you were the most desired yet feared girl in the room, and everyone was watching you dance. All the women were looking on in envy, and all the men were looking on in lust.

Joker, who had emerged from the VIP lounge also, was no exception. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were raking over your form, clad in a tight, purple dress. You looked beautiful, and everyone there knew it.

Just as you had started to forget about him, you made eye contact with him. He grinned, crossing his arms and continuing to watch you with no shame.

You stared back at him, and suddenly, you couldn't go a minute without glancing back at him to see if he was still watching. Knowing that you were being admired was an addicting feeling, and it set your heart aflutter.

And he was still watching. Every time you looked.

He watched you until it was time to go. He didn't even look bored. In fact, he looked enthralled in your movements and grace. You appreciated the attention, but it scared you.

It scared you because you didn't know how much longer you could resist him in private. You didn't know how much longer you could keep your feelings at bay.

You didn't know how much longer you could keep things professional.

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I never do author's notes at the end of my chapters, however I wanna address two things:

1. My writer's block was absolutely horrendous when writing the chapter, but I still really wanted to update for you guys! I hope it was still okay despite that.

2. ALMOST 500 READS ALREADY?? AND ALMOST 40 VOTES?? YA'LL. YA'LL ARE AMAZING AND IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THIS STORY!!