Agent of Chaos 5 of 5
The man in the corner was crying uncontrollably. It was cold in the room, not that that was the main cause of the man’s discomfort. The Joker had his feet propped up, was eating and reading the newspaper.
"SHUT UP!" he screamed at the man. "I’m trying to read this!"
The victim’s sobbing became much more subdued.
The article stated, "Karen Magee, author of various novels, including her latest one, ‘Agent of Chaos,’ has just informed her fans she is suffering from a life-threatening illness. When recently interviewed, she said, ‘I am responding quite well to therapy, but it’s still too soon to see if it will eradicate the illness. Yet, I still have hope.’"
The article went on for a bit, then the reporter asked her, "The last knife in your collection was never auctioned off. Are you planning to try again?"
"No," she said, smiling, "I’m holding onto it for a friend."
He laughed, seeing that was the last thing they were.
It was a bit of a bumpy start, yet she has come so far. She’s increasingly eager for me take her beyond her limits. It has been remarkable fun eliminating what’s left of her virtue!
He fondly recalled how she recently captured one of her foes on her own. It was great sport, watching Karen rip out, one by one, the woman’s dozens of tightly braided cornrows. Then, with her scalp a puffy, pulpy mess, Karen kept gleefully suggesting things to make her scream even more.
He asked the man behind him, while presenting her picture in the paper, "What do you think? "Is she as tempting as the night you raped her?" He made a face after taking a bite of food. "Jeez, these fries are salty! Where’d Sean get them anyway?" He slurped on his diet cola. "Sorry," he said around a mouthful, "but torture always makes me famished. I hope you don’t mind me taking a break."
"I don’t understand." lamented the man on he floor. "You, you’re doing this for her?"
He shrugged. "Me, her, for the Hell of it, whatever." He deliberated on his deeds for a minute. "But it is nice to have someone appreciate your work for a change!"
The man coughed, bringing up blood. "Whatever she’s paying you, I can give you ten times that!"
"Really? Nah, you’re not my type."
Unexpectedly, her ex-boss said, "Oh, yeah. She is the whore, that I know. Fucking bitch flaunts it, then reneges when you get at her. You know about that sick shit she writes? And then she expects others to not know how she likes it. Crazy slut!"
The Joker looked perplexed. "Are you trying to enrage me to kill you faster or bond with me by talking about her like that? ’Cause either way, it’s not working."
It does make me wonder, though, if she’s not a friend...and she’s not foreign, what does the devil...who do I consume, then? It was a banal inquiry into his own motivations, yet one of interest. It was rare, but not unheard of, for him to keep a lover alive, as long as they stayed at a distance, be it emotionally, physically or both. Preferably both. And she was, after all, little more than a slave.At that moment, Sean came through the door.
"I dropped off that package to Ms. Magee liked you said to, boss."
Excellent! What did she say?" During one of his recent terrorist attacks, he’d come across some interesting news. His "present" to her was the unexpected apprehension of her ex-boss, the one who raped her the night she gave him a ride home. The man had moved a few times since then and his present location was unknown. It turned out the man had a brother who ran illegal guns and dealt with an occasional associate of the underworld. The Joker had encountered his whereabouts by sheer accident. That night, he sent Karen the man’s old, grubby, thick glasses as a sign he had the fat, bald fool in his possession now.
I’ll leave intact, for now, any body parts she wishes to amuse herself with.
"She was really happy." said Sean. "She ran around putting this together and said for me to give it to you." After a few seconds, he said, "You know, boss, I am kinda’ surprised you’re keepin’ her around."
"You are?" The Joker was more amused that Sean thought he cared about his opinion.
"Yeah. I mean, normally you either kill or leave ’em."
It was the smallest of revelations, yet significant enough to address. "Are you saying it’s rule of mine?"
"Sean, how many times have I told you I have no rules?"
Getting the hint to let it rest, Sean said, "More times than I want to remember, boss." He retreated to the other side of the room with the sports section.
The Joker took it and opened the cardboard box. Inside was a small case, the color of overcast sky in deep winter. On it was a note, in her handwriting, "I thought you’d be able to hold onto to this one longer. Give me the chance to use it on him as well." He flipped it open, revealing the same silver-dust encrusted knife as before, only as a much smaller version.
He smiled. Lovely, my lady, truly lovely...