Gotham's Apocalypse (A Joke Story [Sequel to Cruel])

6: Crimson Hands

How did I get here?

I was currently sitting outside of the funhouse on the broken carousel, blood covering my hands. I leaned back in the cold, dusty seat.

I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Letting Charlotte watch me was a mistake. I shouldn't have let her inside my hospital. I took one look at my patients and started to prepare euthanasia, but Charlotte caught me before I could inject them. She started to panic, she looked at me with horror in her eyes before swatting my hands away and shoving me out of my own workplace.

She wanted to save them. But they were past saving.

They were infiltrating Riddler's hideout and stepped on mines. Needless to say, there wasn't much to bring back to life. Yes, I guess you could say they could have lived on as amputees, but did Joker have any use for amputees? No. We needed people for grunt work. People who could run to the objective, not people who had to wait to heal before finally needing expensive prosthetics and relearning how to walk.

Joker didn't need them, he couldn't fire them either because they'd just rat on us. He'd kill them at the end of the day.

But if Charlotte needed to play hero to ease her gentle soul, then so be it.

I heard the door of the funhouse creak open before clanging shut. A blood-covered Charlotte came walking to me. She kept her head down, her hands shaking as she approached me. She tilted her head up to look at me, her grim mouth pursed as she shook her head. "They didn't make it."

"I know," I spoke. I folded my arms. "Even if they did, Joker has a revolver for the very occasion of mercy killing. He'd see them and kill them immediately."

Charlotte bit her lip and looked up at the blinding sun with a sigh before looking back at me. "How do you do it?"

"Easy," I spoke. I turned my head to catch her steady eyes. "I stop their pain rather than let them suffer. Their lives would be invaluable to Joker. Given all that, I'd have no problem killing them."

"But how, Lucy?" She asked. She shifted in her stance. "How?"

I let out a long sigh. "You would never understand. You've never gotten yourself in these situations before. When you make enough bad decisions, you can't just let grief take hold, you have to roll with the punches. My whole life led to this. And I'm fine with it. What I'm not fine with are these damn scars," I spoke, tapping them on my cheeks. "These are making me insane."

"Well, I can help you."

"No, you can't," I turned to look at her. "I'm going to destroy this city. And you can't stop me. Neither can Joker. I'm heartless, okay? I'm a bitch. If that means our friendship is over. . ." I looked away from her now, towards Gotham City. I looked at all the tall buildings shining in the sunlight. "Then so be it."

"I won't give up on you," she spoke. "I can't. I'm going to be here for a week, I'm going to spend as much time with you as possible."

"Hm. Fine. How about Friday?" I asked.

She didn't respond, so I turned to look at her once more. Her cheeks were a soft pink, and she was looking at the ground nervously. She grinned up at me. "I kind of. . . Met someone. We're going out on Friday."

I raised an eyebrow before giving her a curt chuckle. "Really? You met someone here. In Gotham." I grinned and shook my head. "Just be careful, there are more villainous people than you know out here."

"Well, no," Charlotte spoke. "He's not like that. He's smart. We've actually been texting all day, and. . . When we met, oh, my god Lucy," she sighed, leaning against the pillar of the carousel. "Fireworks. Have you ever felt fireworks for someone before?"

I turned my head to look back at the funhouse. "Yes, but it seems that is over now."

"No, it isn't." she folded her arms.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"He wouldn't be so concerned in your safety if he wasn't still in love with you, and you'd be dead by now, if he is the heartless man you describe him to be."

I smiled, looking at my crimson hands. "I guess."

"I'm going to go wash my hands now," Charlotte spoke. "Real unprofessional for me to go in there with no gloves."

"It's not like either of us touched their wounds. The blood was just. . . Everywhere." I sighed. "Or did you actually touch them?"

"They went into shock and died before I could do anything," she sighed.

"Pity." I spoke.

"You don't mean that."

"I don't."

I got off of the carousel. "I guess that's that, then," I spoke with a sigh. "Hey, if things with you and mystery man work, maybe you can move to Gotham," I joked, walking into the funhouse again, grabbing the steel door and yanking it open.

"I'm considering it. I mean, at the end of this week, I'll know."

I smiled at her words. I missed her. It wouldn't be so bad if she lived here permanently.