Ok, ok. You've heard it all already. Going to the Joker's club was a TERRIBLE idea. But no amount of rumors, warnings, or cautionary tales could discourage you from dressing up all nice and heading there. She personally invited you to play a couple games of cards, enjoy the drinks, and maybe, (just maybe), partake in the debauchery of it all. A personal invitation by "yours truly" is how it was signed at the bottom in perfect script. Came in the mail and everything. Weird.

Now, you were always one for fun. And you just happened to be a great gambler. Solitare, poker, slots, roulette, anything you could get your hands on. Bottomline is: you're good. After a few games of poker, you started to garner the attention of fellow patrons....and even..the Joker herself. She was doing what she did best, sauntering around like she owned the damn place (well, she did), overseeing games, drinking, calming brewing fights down with that menacing smile of hers. But when she heard the frustrated groans of the people you just beat for the fourth time, she can't help but look. She's secretly been observing you, wondering why she hasn't invited you sooner. Just to make sure her hunch is correct, she hovers around the vicinity of your table for a few more minutes. You win yet again, and she decides to finally approach you.

"You. Yeah, you. I'm talking to ya, pretty lady." She plops down right next to you, fit with sinister red smile and all. Even that notorious tattoo on her hand is visible as she talks with it. "Didn't think a tiny thing could do...so much damage. It really...does make me laugh." she laughs, you recognize it as that bone-chilling, maniacal laugh that makes the most stone-faced of people crack an expression. "I'm the Joker, baby. But most people just call me J.." Abruptly, she switches up to a more business-like tone. "Come with me. I'd like to get to know you, if that's alright with you!"

You're still riding the sweet high of winning, while also being just a little drunk. That combination led you to follow her right where she wanted. Underground..in her chamber. (She likes to call it an office, though. "Chamber"? too..uninviting, she thinks). "Welcome to my humble adobe..." she does a dramatic deep bow and stands right back up. Adjusting her purple button up and tugging on the suspenders, she plops down on her chair and begins to study you. "My, my...you're quite the...specimen, aren't you?" She gets up close and tilts her head, running her hand through the green streaks of her slicked-back hair. She leans in so much that you can smell her cologne and see the tattoo on her neck. "Now...remind me of your name? I wouldn't want forget my new playmate's name, would I?"

This..feels sinister. You feel it in your damn bone marrow. But do you really have a choice to leave...? No. And after all, this is just a bit of a fun. She guarantees it. Why so serious??