A bitch by any other name... ~ For Erlind.

[fuckmeat]

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dDdtVWouoDU/THi05_WISEI/AAAAAAAAABI/r7KjHLhEmbY/s1600/1282098593928.jpg
Sasha Bates
Age 19. Petite at 5ft tall, 32B tits.​

Mikhail Vladekvitch sat back in his study and sipped a vodka. His name had changed to Michael Bates when he had arrived in London some twenty years ago but old habits died hard and the vodka was an enduring one. His accent had also made the journey from Russia to London's east end. People distrusted foreigners so with his usual brutal decisiveness Mikhail had simply chosen not to be one, immersing himself in North London's subculture and then arriving in Lewisham as a born again local.

Even his own daughter had no idea that she was half Russian. Mikhail had been toying with telling his son, Alex, when the boy had been shot by an old adversary. Daughters could be walled away and protected. Sons got too big for their boots and swaggered down streets that they should avoid. Alex had lost his life at just 21 years of age, leaving Mikhail's hopes of an heir dashed. He had taken a young wife since then and set about getting her pregnant. In the year since their marriage Oksana hadn't conceived but last month she had missed her period and today it had been confirmed that she was pregnant. He had taken Oksana down from a lapdancing stage and changed her life overnight. She also believed him to be British. After twenty years as an Englishman, Oksana reminded Mikhail of home and gave him an excuse to seek out Russian foods and other little luxuries that would otherwise have raised eyebrows. He even 'learned' Russian, just for Oksana, winning her eternal devotion.

Sadly, Alex's violent death and Mikhail's marriage to Oksana the same year had driven a wedge between him and his daughter, Sasha. Mikhail had given Eve, his ex wife, a very generous settlement. The woman knew too much to be made a rival of and she remained the mother of his children. Sasha had not taken kindly to her mother being put aside for a much younger woman however. She had no clue how Mikhail really made his money, how his bloody journey to the top of London's food chain had left Mikhail incapable of giving way to the kind of grief for Alex that his daughter seemed to expect. Sasha's years at an exclusive boarding school had rendered them virtual strangers and Mikhail was simply not able to bridge the gap. She had wanted to travel abroad for university but he would not hear of it. Sasha would stay in London where she could be monitored and protected. Ignorant to the danger her father's 'business' placed her in, Sasha felt she was being patronised and stifled, smothered because of her brother's sudden death.

Mikhail was pulled from his reverie by a tap at the door. She might imagine that she loathed him but at least Sasha had enough respect for him not to come barging into his study. She entered at a word from him, defiance burning in her emerald eyes. She looked so like her mother.

"A room is free at the campus. I'm going to live there with all the other students. Please don't fight me on this Dad. Please just write the fucking cheque."

"Swearing does not become you." Mikhail snapped. All that money for boarding school and she had learned all the same expletives as the grubby little urchins in the state comprehensives.

"Fighting with you just because I want a normal life away from you and that brainless slut does not become me."

"You will not speak that way about your stepmother."

"Nor my lecherous old pervert of a father I assume?"

"You assume correctly." Mikhail's eyes flashed and Sasha's mouth abruptly closed. She knew when she had pushed far enough, when to hold her tongue.

He exhaled. It was probably for the best to separate Sasha from Oksana. When the pregnancy became obvious she would be disgusted. Letting her live on campus was quite a risk however and Sasha knew most of his henchmen by sight now as 'associates.' New ones would have to be acquired and to place such trust in new recruits was unthinkable. He needed a few days to make arrangements, to stall her until highly trained, discreet and trustworthy security could be arranged.

"Very well. But there is no need for you to go dashing off into the night Sasha. After the weekend will be soon enough. You need to sort and pack your things."

"I've packed. I'm getting a lift over there in half an hour."

"Who from?"

"This is why I need my own space!" Sasha yelled. "From Matt, the guy I've been seeing for the last month without you sticking your nose in!"

How naive she still was. Mikhail had ordered a full background check the morning after their first date. He knew Sasha had a clinic appointment next week for hormonal birth control. He knew the little shit's blood type. He always knew. It did her no harm to think she had her little secrets however. Looking like she did it was inevitable that someone would charm his way into her knickers.

"Let me make one thing clear Sasha." Mikhail rose and his voice dropped to the low tone that had liquefied the bowels of some of the most hardened thugs in London. There was an edge of intent, of malice even, that made his daughter shut the fuck up and listen for a change. He could see she was shocked, frightened even but he didn't care. "I am not going to pay good money for you to get drunk and fuck your little boyfriend. You are there to study. After you graduate I expect you to do something useful with your life. I worked for everything we have. I came from nothing to a mansion like this and it took me longer than you've been breathing. You get knocked up by this... " Mikhail feigned ignorance. "whatever his name is... you're on your own. I will not support you if you fuck up your life. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly."

Sasha turned on her heel and left the room. Mikhail sighed, knocked back his vodka and reached for the phone. Little bitch was gonna be the death of him.

"Evening. Are you alone? Put the cunt down Danny and get dressed. I need some eyes..."

 

[Erlind]

Treacherous bitch. He'd been certain she'd been wrapped around his finger too tightly to know which way was up. She'd run off with that wilted flower power wench when he was at his lowest. The Bat had just hit his lab before he even had time to deliver his latest joke. The rat with wings had lost his sense of humor about it all. His pudding had become Poison Ivy's bitch instead of his. There was nothing left in Gotham for the jester, so he did the only thing that made sense. The Joker went to the airport, picked a stranger to give a second smile, and took his plane ticket.

A little makeup, Joker charm, and hours and hours later The Joker found himself about to step off the plane. As the stewardess wished him a good trip he smiled and asked her a strange if simple question, “Wonderful, I do have one question though, miss. Would you happen to know what happy little hamburg I'm stepping off into?”

“... you mean you don't know?” The woman gave him a strange look and she started to ask him more, but the stranger spoke up.

With a wide smile and a sing songy voice that somehow carried a deadly threat under it Joker urged her to answer him, “I do hate asking a question twice, miss.”

* * *

Foggy Lanes. Big Ben. Cheerful Nannies with flying umbrellas. The Joker was in jolly old London and it was time to rebuild. Makeup, a few toys, and a little cash were all he had to his name. The damned bat never left him with much, but the bitch had taken the rest of his usual reserves. Still, his progress surprised even him. These Londoners were only afraid of him for all the wrong reasons, but they would learn.

Joker only beat one man to a pulp when he wouldn't accept the almighty dollar as payment before changing his money over. The only sign of the altercation was a curious rose shaped splash of blood on his lapel. No henchmen yet to take care of these petty daily annoyances yet. Training new ones was too much work. No, he'd only train one replacement here and he'd chose her carefully, or not as the mood struck him. The rest he'd just have to take from someone else.

It was late at night and Joker was walking down a lonely street pondering how to break onto the scene and feeling a bit bored from all the serious thinking. When a large brutish man who hadn't even bothered with a mask pulled a gun on the old clown.

“All of your money, you freak!,” he demanded with the local accent. The way these people talked still made him giggle, but Joker pulled a ring off his finger. He slyly twisted the red gem on the ring as he tossed it at the brute's feet.

As the man bent to scoop up the ring the Joker told a joke, “What do criminals like you eat with their milk?”

“What? Ow, damn it!” Confusion and then a prick from the needle hidden in the ring he'd just picked up.

“Crookies.” As the Joker told the terrible pun the Joker Venom in the ring began quickly working through his system. The man gave a half hearted laugh even though he didn't get the crappy joke.

“Crookies? Heh heh heh. You must have more than this ring. Heh heh.”

“Not for you. Now chuckles, I have some questions for you. Who runs the crime in this town?”

The thug began laughing in earnest, partly because of this strange clown's demands and partly because of the toxin running through his system. One hand dropped to his knee. “Why would I tell you that?,” he managed between laughs then dropping to his knees and letting his gun skid across the sidewalk. “Oh, God.”

“Not even he can help you now, just your new neighbor The Joker. Now spill or die laughing.”

“Michael Bates, he controls everything. HA HA HA HA HA. What did you do HAHAHAHAHA you fucking clown?” The thug was already in pain, struggling for breath, but Joker dragged several more answers about the apparently infamous Michael Bates. He was barely getting words out by the end.

“You've been so helpful,” Joker told him sincerely as he lifted the gun to the man's face.

“HAHAHAHA please HOHAHAHA no HAHAHA.”

“You're right of course,” the Joker soothed, but he only took the gun away from his face to shoot him in the chest, “no reason to ruin such a smile, and I thought you people were supposed to have bad teeth. Shame on me for stereotyping. HA.”

* * *

A few days later and The Joker had his own swinging pad in a cozy warehouse by the docks, the bitch had sent along his pet hyenas (They probably kept chewing up Ivy's precious plants and the new girl toy wouldn't let her keep them.), and Joker had found out nearly every dirty secret Bates had worth keeping. Best of all was Sasha. Possible Russian origins were boring, and so was the brainless slut half his age he'd married. Tragic deaths of sons were all too common, but Sasha caught his interest. She didn't even know what her father did for a living, but she was far from stupid. A sheltered little girl he could twist into something his and then use to take Mikhail's toys away from him. That was an opener worthy of The Joker.

When Matt and Sasha arrived at her place on campus an unmarked envelope would be waiting for her. Inside would be a joker playing card and a typed letter.

“Want someone to close Daddy's eyes for a while? If I know about Matt, Daddy certainly did. You have no privacy from him. I hate to see birds with clipped wings. I can help. Nine sharp at the pub three blocks down from here, two nights from now. Bring folding money and the card so we can talk.

Bedlam

P.S. If he doesn't have men in an unmarked van across the street, I owe you a beer.”

Joker didn't know the girl well enough to know if she would bite, but it would be so much funnier if she came to him instead him having to steal her away.