The Joker X Reader- Hired Help Pt 1

He throws his head back and cackles insanely until tears are streaming from his eyes. The woman crouched at his feet cries for a different reason as fat drops of crimson splatter the pavement around her. You watch from above, feeling no pity for the woman and yet still not understanding this man’s sense of humour. His cackling finally stops and he leans in closer until his red painted lips are at the woman’s ear. He must whisper something dreadful, because the woman begins to scream punching out at him blindly. Streaks of his white face paint smear her hands as she attempts to fight back. The man continues to laugh even though this woman’s fingernails draw blood. Eventually he seems to tire of his little game and silences her screams with a smooth stroke of his knife. More blood stains the street as it gushes from her throat. You continue to watch quietly marvelling at the beauty of the hue. The man takes a step back and stashes his knife somewhere deep within his purple coat. No longer distracted by his work he finally notices you. As he looks up he runs a gloved hand through his vibrant green hair, leaving small traces of gore behind. You look down on him your dark purple lips forming a very small smile in acknowledgement and then you flee, using the rooftops as your footway.

The man you observed is one of Gotham’s many psychopaths. He has the ability to find humour in even the most mundane of things and it is for that reason that you first began to take notice of his work. He first flew onto your radar at a large fundraising event. He burst in with a small crew during the final waltz of the evening and managed to take anything of value from everyone. Your date for the evening, Bruce Wayne tried to stop him at first but was soon silenced by a couple of goons. You smirk at your recollections as you swing down off of a fire escape. Simulating the screams the other women around you were producing you had buried you head into Bruce’s chest and wept. But in reality you had been anything but terrified. It was people like the joker who made life interesting.


You yourself had been forced to spend a rather long stint at the infamous Arkham Asylum after your father died. Your mother had you committed after you began to see flaws in her story and started to accuse her of murder. Of course all she had to do was hand a blank check to one of the doctors and you were diagnosed with schizophrenia. You had been completely sane back then but after three long years of ‘treatment’ you eventually became just like everyone you were forced to associate with. Yes, you were a psychopath but you were very high functioning.


Sliding through the open window of your apartment you land in a crouch. For someone who has spent most of their teenage life in a mental asylum you have done pretty well for yourself. After your mother’s ‘mysterious’ disappearance you were lucky enough to inherit her wealth which you promptly used to buy a couple of multimillion dollar cosmetic companies; clearly after you had changed your name, you couldn’t have anyone identifying you as a former patient of Arkham . However as of two years ago the majority of your income comes from some of Gotham’s most infamous inhabitants.


You allow yourself a glance at the wall clock before making your way to the bathroom. Thankfully it is only one in the morning so you will be lucky enough to get a little sleep before you have to meet some friends for breakfast at seven. Early mornings are but one of the many disadvantages to being a high profile entrepreneur. Unravelling the long braid that runs down the middle of your back you stare at your reflection in the mirror. With the pale face makeup, dark purple lips and black face mask you look truly haunting. Peeling off the mask and removing the rest of your costume; a fitted leather one-piece, purple semi opaque tights, plum coloured gloves and black knee high combat boots, you step into the steaming hot shower. The water sprays over you, soothing your sore muscles and washing the makeup from your face. You stand amongst the steady stream of water for what must be an hour staring down at the purple welts that litter your body. Tonight’s mark fought back quite fiercely which is something that you rarely get from politicians. After your shower you dress in a pair of silk pyjamas and climb straight into bed. Your head sinks into the downy pillow comfortably and your breathing slows as you drift into a deep sleep. Your last thoughts are of that cackling laughter, that bright green hair and that permanent smile.