Bent, Not Broken(7)

“Are you handling this okay? You’re not sounding… right?”

Joker laughed. “Nothing about this situation is right, Demon. This fucking bastard hurt my woman. He made her scared of men, of me.” He stopped. No one but Demon could get him to spill the truth. Amy was his woman, and he’d always considered her his. The love he had for her was never going to go away. It wasn’t just love, it was outright obsession. She was a submissive at heart, a broken submissive. With the right care, he could bring her out of her shell, but she was so damned scared because of what that fucking evil bastard had done to her.

Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes.

“I’ve got to go, Demon.”

“Do you need support there? This is not something you need to do alone.”

“This is what I need to do alone. I’ve spent a great deal of time imagining this moment. I’m prepared, and I’m ready. The evil fucking bastard is going to die.”

Demon sighed. “Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Joker closed the call to see a text from Amy.

She missed him. His woman missed him.

Joker: How’s everything going with Dad?

Amy: It’s not good. He’s sad. Will you come by at some point? I’d really like to talk to you. I miss talking to you.

He hesitated. Amy’s texts always made him smile. She hated the small text talk and when they were growing up he’d sit in his room texting her in short talk. She’d get so angry that she would storm into his room, shouting at him.

Joker: I’ll be there Sunday.

Once he sent the message, he sent a text to his father letting him know he was going to be stopping by on Sunday for dinner. He missed spending time with Amy. The sluts he slept with now were his way of trying to forget her. Amy couldn’t be what he wanted. Not yet.

Doubts filled his mind. Given the right amount of care and love, Amy could be exactly what he wanted and needed. It was almost too good to be true for him. His anger raged inside him as he watched Bruce leave the bar, laughing.

Joker couldn’t hear what was being said, and he didn’t care about it. Putting his car into drive, he followed the fucker down a quiet road. In a couple of minutes, Bruce would cut down a darkened alley that would give Joker the perfect opportunity to grab him.

He bided his time as Bruce stopped against a wall to take a piss. It wouldn’t be long until he didn’t have a cock to piss with. Pulling the car against the curb, Joker climbed out. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Joker followed close enough behind the bastard who was going to experience some pain. No, not some pain, a lot of agony. A shit load of pain.

Rounding the alley, Joker grabbed Bruce from behind, slamming against the cement wall.

“What the fuck?” Bruce said, turning around to face him.

“Go on, Bruce, hit me. Let me see how you fare with hitting a real fucking man instead of terrorizing little girls.” Joker got right up in his face, almost begging for the bastard to take a shot, any shot that would give Joker a chance to hurt him.

“Who the hell are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bruce had paled though.

“You don’t know me, but I know a lot about you. We’ve got a mutual acquaintance: Brenda, your ex-wife.” What little color Bruce had disappeared at the mention of his ex-wife.

“I’ve stayed away. I told her I would.”

“You see, Bruce, I’ve got a problem. Amy’s my woman, and you hurt her. You took something away from her that she’ll never get back, and now it’s time for you to pay the price.” Wrapping his fingers around Bruce’s neck, Joker fought the temptation to end him now. “And I’m going to make sure you beg for death long before I deliver it.”





Joker dragged an unconscious Bruce by the arm, tossed his ass on the floor of the abandoned warehouse owned by The Soldiers, and stared at his body. The fucker was still breathing for now, and the energy inside of Joker to end his life now ran him hard. But he had been planning this for a long fucking time, and would make the fucker beg for mercy before he was finished with him. He spit in Bruce direction then turned and faced the metal table pressed against the wall. There was a chair and rope beside the table and on top of the scarred, rusted-out metal was an array of things that would bring Joker a hell of a lot of pleasure.

After he picked Bruce up off the floor and tied him to the chair, he moved back and pulled a joint out of his cut. He didn’t need to be high or drunk for this, but a little weed sounded good before the party got started. For about five minutes he waited for the motherfucker to wake up, and when his impatience got the better of him, he walked over to the sink. After filling up the bucket with cold water, he turned and stared at Bruce. Leaning against the sink, he inhaled his joint, took it out from between his lips, and exhaled. The smoke billowed out in front of him in a hazy white cloud, and when it dissipated he moved the joint to the counter, set it on the edge, and picked up the bucket.