As you come too, you're first aware of some pain in various parts of your body. From bitter experience, you quickly realize that you're tied to a chair, with your arms behind you and your legs tied to opposite legs. Some filthy tasting rag has been stuffed in your mouth. As your eyes start to regain focus, and a chill hits you, you see that you've been stripped except for a pair of fishnet pantyhose. As you start to look up, you catch sight of your clothes, piled up near the wall of the storage space, in which you apparently still are. The patter of the rain on the roof drifts into your hearing as you see, nest to the pile of clothes, a pair of spats, and then a pair of legs clad in purple, and finally the Joker, leering at you as he leans against the wall. His legs are crossed, and one arm is crossed to the opposite elbow. In his free hand, he's spinning a stiletto between his fingers. As you catch his yellowed, manic eyes, he giggles a high-pitched, excited cackle, "So, I think its about time that you thanked me, pard!" And he leans away from the wall, taking a step toward you.

Numbness doesn't even begin to describe it. The black pit of terror in her stomach opens ever wider as she regains consciousness. Self-loathing and shame quickly follow: how long was she out? How many times was she touched? Violated? Dinah feels a dim bitter burning sensation behind her eyes as she focuses on Joker, her bitter laughter choking on that rag as she thinks . o O (That's what I'm here for. All part of the job.)
Her mouth works the rag, even as her wrists test the binds.
Dinah Lance thinks . o O (Damn, I'm stupid.)

That burning sensation behind her eyes grows hotter, as tears well under her lashes.

Whoever tied you up was a professional, if its a profession, and there's no give whatsoever as the Joker finishes the short walk to you, and lifts one leg, stepping over and sitting down on the front of your chair, straddling your body. His right hand continues to spin the stiletto with nervous energy as he frowns an exaggerated sad face, "Oh...I guess you can talk..." And then his smirk returns as his left hand snatches a handful of your hair, jerking your head roughly, and with the hand holding the dagger, pulls the rag out of your mouth, dropping it on the floor. The boniness of his legs, through his pants, presses down with his weight into either of your legs as he pulls your head closer with the handful of hair, resting his forehead against yours to look you right in the eye, "Gonna give daddy some sugar...pretty baby?" He spits the consonants; flecking your lips, and his eyes, though looking into yours, never seem to focus, flicking ever so slightly back and forth continuously.

Dinah Lance's eyes stare into yours, and for a second, death answers. A void. Nothingness. A lovely cadaver stare. Her thoughts flatline. 
Torture. 

Her lips move without a word, her throat constricting reflexively so that no sound comes out. "Kill me." It's just a breath on your lips. And then she closes her eyes, relaxing. Perhaps expecting the forgiveness of that knife across her skin. In that instant, an image comes to her. That of a woman in a wheelchair. Her voice rings in a surreal memory: "Get UP, Dinah!"

Dinah's lashes snap open; eyes full of fire as she snarls gutturally, "Fuck you."

The Joker cackles, throwing back his head in a shrieking hyena's roar that echoes through the tiny space, blotting out the sound of the rain. It fades slowly, and the maniac speaks again, "If I had wanted to kill you...rape you...rummage through your purse...I would have done it already. But you still aren't thanking me. You walked right into Dr. Frank's trap here. He had you all dressed up...who knows what he would've done to you if I hadn't chased him off." As he prattles on, the point of the stiletto slides across your skin, starting at your shoulder and moving down your chest, between your breasts. He pauses, and you feel him tug the sheer cloth of the pantyhose out between your legs, and then a rush of cold air as he cuts away a tiny piece of the cloth with the knife, causing it to splay out. Then in another jerk of movement, his face slides next to yours, cheek to cheek, and he whispers into your ear softly, "What I've got's contagious..."

The dim realization hits her in slow degrees. Ah. Okay. Dinah pauses, as her system recovers from the shock, and her mind slowly gets over the horror. Twenty seconds later she whispers back in your ear, "I hope it's not the love bug. Look, if you're not going to slowly torture me over several hours while making bad one-liners, untie me. This is worse than torture. I just feel like I'm in the Justice League again." A shaky voice, true. But full of that biting sarcasm.

He leans back, looking you in the eye again, teeth grating together as he smiles wide, "That's what I want. We're a team. Partners. I don't see Robin Hood here to save you this time." This time, as he talks, he stabs the point of the stiletto into his left thumb. Deep. He begins to twist it, drawing blood that wells up and quickly soaks his old, worn glove. His eyes never leave yours, "I just want us to be close, after all." And then he snaps forward again like a cobra striking. His right hand, with the knife grabs your hair this time, and he shoves the bloodied thumb into your mouth, gripping under your jaw with his index finger, "If you want to get out of this alive...and stop Frankie...I'm going to have to be a part of you." His teeth part slightly, and he bites down on the end of his tongue as his brow furrows, gaze intent on his thumb in your mouth.

Her even white teeth bite down for a second, reflexively. Then her jaw relaxes, as her tongue pushes forward, meeting the tip of your gloved thumb and attempting to push it out. A bitter metallic taste assails her senses. Blood. She tries to jerk her jaw away, to no avail. Her eyes glare at you hotly.

The Joker's eyes roll back in his head slightly as he leans back, giggling another shrill titter as he looks into your eyes again after a long moment. He leans over, taking hold of the rag on the floor in the hand that doesn't hold the knife. "Now, if you and me are gonna be an all star comedy team, Dinah...we have to have trust. Abbot trusted Costello. Laurel trusted Hardy. Moe trusted...Shemp at the very least. Can Joker trust you to let him help you catch bad Mr. Frank?"

Finally free of the oral penetration, Dinah tilts her head and says simply, "I really do hate you. I'm half convinced right now that you ARE Dr. Frank. I'd also like to beat the pants off you. I mean please, I've moved beyond fishnets. But..."

Seconds pass as she admits, "You're smarter than I am, and you're my only lead. A lead that is always one step ahead. Tell me: what if you couldn't trust me, and I told Batman?"

"You wouldn't tell Batman. Who you think you're foolin'?" He says the latter with a mock deep voice, and then shoves the old rag back into your mouth, deep enough to stop you from saying anything very eloquent but not as deep as before. Then he leans forward, pressing the whole front of his body against yours, as you feel him reach down and touch your bound hands. He presses the knife into your right hand, "Not that I don't trust you...I really believe you spoke from the heart...and I've seen a few of those in my time. But, you will need to call the police for those two bodies. So...this should give me a little time." 

Leaving the stiletto in your hand, he leans back again, and holds the finger up, mouth forming a little 'o'. The hand then dives into his inside jacket pocket, and returns with a Witzmacher disposable camera, "Hope you don't mind...I immortalized our little rendezvous on film." He laughs again, stepping back off of your body on the chair.

She's angry beyond belief. But she refuses to be helpless. As you aim the camera, she lowers her left lash in a wink, even as her right hand starts angling the knife.
Dinah Lance thinks. o O (Film.)

The Joker takes one last snap, finishing the roll he started while you were unconscious, still laughing, and wanders over to the door leading out of the storage space. He pauses there, hand on the knob, "Keep on your toes, darling. I'll be in touch. Oh, and I moved the body outside so it wouldn't stink up our date." He waves his hand in front of his face, "Phew..." Then he opens the door, and cackles again as he walks out, closing it behind him.