𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐈

M. Way - Ms. J

DC au — another universe that I love so much.

the reader as the joker and mikey as the lead detective on her case.

- - -

The manacles hang tightly around her ankles and wrists as the metal door behind her shut close and the sound of heavy footsteps walking towards her echoed throughout the dimly lit room. She sat in the center of the integration room, the metal chair she was sitting on was rather hard and cold–every displeasing for her part–and the cold sensation brought to her by the cold gray table didn't even break the sinister smile on her lips. Detective Way slammed the handful of files upon the metal table, creating a loud sound of force hitting a flat surface, yet the suspect didn't flinch nor move, she simply smiled at the Detective.

"38 people," He said in a low voice, rage filling his eyes. "You murdered 38 people! What kind of sick person are you?!" He shouted, opening a file down in front of her. She simply hummed, looking down at the picture attached to the file–Tyler Joseph. She smiled, "That boy was such an headache but he did some good deeds."

"Good deeds? He helped you kill these innocent people!"

She smiled widely, looking up to the rage-filled detective in front of her, "How can you be so sure they were innocent, detective? For all I know, they could've been fucking with drugs or some shit you don't want them to do." The detective glared at her, dead eyes locking with her sinister ones.

This is how capturing her–the most wanted woman in Gotham–would go. She would be locked up in an integration room or cell, and the most skilled detective would come and try to get information out of her. Key word: try, well, tries. Ever since Mikey started keeping her behind bars, she always found a way to get out. She didn't care if it meant losing an arm or losing herself, she needed to get out and to taunt terrors in the streets of Gotham.

She was wild, vicious, and beyond crazy. She would swing her knife around people, stab a few, and call it fun. Her business was killing people, hurting them, and even torturing them.

Why?

'Cause it was fun.

"Don't fuck with me here, J." The detective said, not once tearing his icy glare off the suspect. "What's your motive, huh? What has you wanting to kill? Is it for money?"

She threw her head back, laughter erupting from her, "Oh, how I wish it was, detective."

"Then fucking tell me!" He yelled, slamming his fists on the metal table. She jumped and smiled at him, "You're hot when you're mad, do you know that?" She winked and the Detective stood up straight, heavily breathing through his nose as the suspect eyed him up intently. He was far away from the detective she remembered; that scrawny intern became this toned up and scary leading detective, it made her burst with happiness.

"I can't tell you, Mikes. They told me not to." She said, tapping her feet on the hard pavement. Mikey looked at her, furrowing his eyebrows, "Who told you?" He said and the look on her face was filled with so much fear that Mikey has ever seen before.

For once in his life, the Joker–the most wanted and crucial suspect–was scared right before his eyes. "Who?" He asked again and she shook her head before smiling back at him; no traces of fear anymore. "Who?" She asked back, giggling at him. Mikey sighed, propping his hands on the metal table, hanging his head in defeat. He looked back at her, seeing her wide smile behind the clown make up she wore.

Her green hair shining in the dim light–it looked so soft. Mikey's eyes widened.

What am I thinking? She's getting in my head.