I feel like a lot of the Joker/OC pairings are good out there, but its just so unrealistic how fast the OC falls for the Joker. They always seem to enjoy the first time he rapes them. It's so random and unexpected for them to have any feelings other than hate and pure dislike for the Joker after being beaten and raped by him. I think there needs to be a plot point/person to cause such feelings to appear and even at that, if feelings do appear of lust and want from the OC to the Joker I think it should take a long ass time for it to happen, because its not normal for someone to be raped and the next day go "HEY! I LIKE YOU AND THE FACT YOU SEXUALLY VIOLATED ME! MARRY ME!" It's just not right. I know it happens in some cases, but it seems a bit iffy to me. That's why in this story it will take a while for any remote feelings of affection or trust to appear in the OC towards the Joker. I want to keep what a normal sane person would do in a traumatic experience with the Joker. I want to keep realistic reactions and give it a 'trying to survive' feel to it for most of the time.

My Joker, may be off a bit. I intend to use mainly Heath's, throw in a bit of Hamill's, dare I say an ounce of Jack's. The Joker may not be to some of you's liking as we each have a vision of what he may do in this situation, and this situation and this situation and so on, since many of the situations in this story don't happen in a comic, or movie or such. I wouldn't say this is going to be a romance, or even maybe a one sided romance. I'm not sure. Think what you will, interpret what you will.

Grammer mistakes, I'm slowly going back through and trying to fix. I'm not perfect.

Chapter 1

The dark blue car pulled into the parking lot belonging to the large tower with the word Wayne spread across the top in white lettering. Nichole who was seated in the passenger seat let out a great drawn out sigh, making perfectly sure the driver of the car who was also her closest friend heard her sigh. Tom rolled his eyes at her as he cut the engine of the car, throwing his keys into his coat pocket.

"Nichole please, just try to act like you're enjoying yourself when we get upstairs. This party is after all for Harvey Dent. You should be thankful Gotham has finally gotten a good DA and not treating this like you are about to enter a funeral." He told her playfully, squinting in the dim light provided in the orange glow of the overhanging lights lining the streets of Gotham City. He adjusted his tie while looking through a hand held mirror Nichole had handed him as he spoke.

"I will. I will. But I swear if we have to sit down to eat and I don't know what fork to use and end up looking like an idiot..." She laughed, putting the mirror back into her ratty old purse she had found in her storage closet a few hours before heading out.

"Don't worry about that. If it's anything like Bruce's last party I went to, all it will be is everyone standing around talking to each other. Sorry no beer pong at this party." He chuckled at her faking a face of disappointment.

Tom had asked her to come to Bruce's Havery Dent fund-raising party with him, because he had no one to go with, and he didn't want to show up to a Bruce Wayne party dateless. All his other friends were out of town at the moment. So he asked his good friend Nichole Stevens to pretend to be his date. He had to practically beg Nichole to get her to say yes as she was, to be quite honest, not the party type anymore. Sure in college she had been a party animal, doing the things that could cause her to go to jail; underage drinking and smoking illegal substances, but after college she told herself enough was enough. She was not going to waste anymore time in her life partying away and not remembering what she did the previous night.

Though maybe if the party Tom was asking her to go with him was an informal party, she would have said yes instantly and not have him begging her for a week straight to go. Informal parties were the only type of parties she knew. No food placed out on large extravagant tables with fountains of chocolate dip running down them. No fancy dresses and business men discussing politics to their heart's content. No rich playboy millionaires walking around with ten females groping at him. No cops and lawyers chatting up a storm. None of that.

She liked the informal parties. The ones where one would tell five or six people to come over and bring some beer to watch a football game, and then over a hundred people would show up and dance all night long and watch sports. Those were Nichole's type of parties.

So upon hearing Tom wanted her to go to Harvey Dent's fund-raising party, she was not looking forword to going. But she wasn't going to say no to Tom. He was her best friend and had done many things for her in the past, so it was only fair for her to grin and bear it at this party.

Tom of course knew Nichole's hate for formal parties, and told her if some of his other friends were in town he'd ask them, but it summer was about to start and most people went away from Gotham to get a head start on relaxing on a beach for a few weeks.

"Don't forget Tom..." Nichole said as they left the car and headed into the building's main enterance. "...to not leave me alone with the people at the party. I don't think I'll be able to relate to any of them! And if I see a celebrity at this party, it will be so obvious I'm not like everyone else since I'll be the only one staring open mouthed at a famous person! Hell I've never seen Bruce Wayne in person before. I may just freeze up if he walks by me!"

"Well you can relate to me...So just hope that they all act like me." He grinned at her as he showed the usher his invitation and then lead Nichole into the elevator.

"If they all act like you I'll eat my hat." She joked, in complete disbelief the people in the party were all like Tom.

Tom was in the lower rich class. He had a lot of money, but not enough that would make it known to the whole world. He lived in his own house, though only one floor it was furnished with expensive items. He also was able to pay for his college with no loans at all and in full. He was some sort of businessman, though Nichole never could fully grasp the concept of what Tom exactly did when he explained it to her.

Nichole met Tom in high school. They both attended Gotham High PS #218. They became very close, but only as friends of course. Then they both attended the same college. They had chosen to go to a college outside of Gotham City; not wanting city life or hell just to even be in Gotham their entire life. College was one of the best times of Nichole's life. Her and Tom grew even closer and made loads of new friends, which she still sees now and then in person, but mainly chat with on the phone now a days. She thinks it was that point in her freshmen year of college she really developed her crush on Tom.

She always knew she liked him, from the moment they became friends in high school. Of course though, almost all the other girls liked himas well. Tom was considered to be the jock of the school, and had another girlfriend every month. Nichole was just the best friend, that other girls would not grow jealous of, because it was in everyone's mind set that friends were all the two would ever be. In college though, being away from the cliche clics of high school, Nichole and Tom's new friends all saw the connection they had and would often pester Nichole behind Tom's back that the two should date. She often wondered if they did the same to Tom when Nichole wasn't around. But Nichole was content to keep her crush hidden. Of course she flirted with him, but to him it must seem like her personality or just being playful and joking.

But of course once college was over they returned to the grim city of Gotham.

Nichole was barely able to afford the house she bought, but managed due to Tom. She felt guilt that he helped her, but was very thankful. He helped her out with paying it off and he bought her a gift upon receiving her new house. A dog, which she named Atticus after her favorite book character in To Kill A Mocking Bird. Nichole was very big into books. The places they would bring her and her mind. She tore through most of Gotham's public book stores and there was never a moment in her spare time that a book would not be within her arm's length.

The elevator slowly went higher and higher and Nichole's nerves rose with each floor they passed.

The main reason for her nerves were the people inside the party. All of Gotham's upper class. All of them were lawyers, doctors, physiologists, judges, cops, millionaires, you name it, the party has it.

And then there was Nichole. A twenty three year old high school teacher. Low income; Lower class. Not that she minded it at all. She was content with her life as it was. She'd rather be doing a job she loved, than try to go into some complex field of work just to make more money. Teaching was a joy to her, now that she had the hang of it.

Though she would not admit it, there was still many times she had a bit of jealous feelings inside of her whenever Tom would be able to freely spend his money without caring about prices. Okay, maybe honestly she wasn't content with her financial situation, but it wasn't something she would fret about everyday. Just the occasional jealous feelings whenever someone would drive by in the summer time with an expensive car. Nichole did not even own a car, not because she could not afford one, but because she didn't see the point. Walking and taking a cab was fine with her. Saved money.

And god knows now a days, she needed all the money she could get.

As the elevator doors opened she instantly regretted what she wore. She had picked out a simple black skirt, a white button-up blouse, black ballet flats and since it was a bit chilly out she wore over her outfit a long black jacket that stopped just above her knees. She eyed up and down the women at the party and saw every women in that party had a designer dress on. No skirts; No blouses. She hoped no one noticed the increasing red coloring on her cheeks. All she wanted was to fit in at the party, but it was now painfully obvious she did not belong.

She looked like a waiter compared to everyone else. She wondered when someone would come up to her and ask her to get them a drink.

Nichole wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but she wasn't disgustingly ugly. She would always be another face in a crowd of her peers at parties or out in Gotham streets. Her looks would not turn men's head everyday and every moment, though on a occasion a side glance of curiosity or interest. At bars men would approach her and flirt, but they would also approach other girls as well. In some men's eyes she was pretty, in other's there was always someone better than her.

Nichole to say it at the least...was average.

Her simple eyeliner and a bit of blush for makeup looked like cheap pharmacy store makeup (which really it was) compared to every other women's beautiful makeup dressed on their faces. Another thing she noticed is most of the women had their hair done up, she guessed done professionally, but Nichole simply had done her hair like she normally would. Down and wavy. She didn't like to wear her hair up. It made her feel exposed and forced her to have nothing to hide behind.

An actual waiter passed by her. They were even better dressed than her.

This is going to be a long night... She thought to herself as the elevator doors closed behind them.

The room had golden walls and long white tables lined the opposite wall holding dozens of different foods and wines. People were scattered everywhere chatting loudly with one another. The space was large and the ceiling was high, giving Nichole the feeling of being small. The room belonged to Bruce Wayne of course and it was his current residence until the manor was rebuilt, but it looked like he had changed an office space into his own living space, since there was actual restrooms on the wall closest to Nichole, labeled for the appropriate gender.

She linked arms with Tom, giving him a small pat on the forearm, as they made their way into the wide decorated room. Tom lead them to the center where Harvey Dent stood chatting with a few people Nichole didn't recognize. Hell she didn't recognize anyone at the party, since didn't take the time in her life to learn the names and faces of Gotham's finest. She only knew the face of Harvey, and Bruce Wayne. She would never admit this out loud, but she found Bruce to be quite good looking. It was every women's fantasy to be with him, but Nichole knew deep down he must be a real stuck up jerk as he did give off that vibe in the tabloids. Placing her celebrity crush into the back of her mind she noticed Tom and her were now right next to Harvey.

Tom tapped his back, and Harvey turned around smiling. "Heya Tom."

"Hi Harvey. Congratulations, you really deserve this. Ole Bruce really knows how to throw a party." He glanced at Nichole. "Oh...excuse my rudeness. This is Nichole Stevens. Nichole, Harvey. Harvey, Nichole." Nichole shook hands with Harvey putting on her best forced mile. It wasn't hard for her to fake one. She had to all the time whenever she was chatting with her boss at work.

"Very nice to meet you Harvey. I'm so glad you are trying to turn Gotham on the right path." She wanted to choke herself. She sounded so goody-two-shoed. Personally, she had nothing against Harvey, it was just very intimidating to be placed in front of a man that could easily look stuff up about you behind your back. Nichole mentally cringed at her paranoid self. She taught high school history, so upon learning the many corrupt things governments do, she never trusted those with ties to them. It was a bad habit of hers. Many times she had to remind herself to stop thinking to compare things in the present to the things in the past that she taught in her class.

Harvey beamed at that sentence, thinking she was being honest. "Thanks. It is very nice to meet you too. Now if you two will excuse me, it seems my girl Rachel has run off somewhere."

Tom laughed. "See ya Harvey." He glanced at Nichole, who let out another sigh as she noticed a few women staring and whispering to one another. By the look on their faces, they were criticizing Nichole's outfit to one another.

"What's wrong now?" He asked nudging her side.

"Nothing...it's just all these people. They know I'm not one of 'them.'" She said making quotation marks in the air. She definitely was the only one of Gotham's middle class at that party, and this fact embarrassed her. She felt just so out of place, not used to the fancy life. "Those people over there...They are staring at me. They are looking at this ridiculous outfit I manged to throw together. Seriously Tom, you don't know how long I was going through my closet to find something decent to wear. All the dresses I own would make me look slutty here..." She glanced around one more. "But maybe I should have worn one of them, because it appears slutty is the new thing." She scrunched her nose.

"Nonsense. Harvey didn't notice you were a poor person-" Tom began, in a joking manner to make her feel better, but Nichole hung her mouth open in shock, deeply offended. Tom felt a wave of guilt sweep over him as he realized how wrong his words came out.

"No no that's not what I meant! Nichole I'm sorry! I meant that jokingly! I didn't mean it like that I...I mean...I meant to say..Ugh I'm sorry!" He hung his head.

She let go of his arm, shooting a glare in his direction. "Well I'm just going to go to the bathroom. Maybe I can find a job to be a janitor in there, since that's what "common" people like me do! We actually work to get our money, unlike you and half the other people here who inherited it from their filthy rich parents!" She stomped off to the bathroom, with Tom mentally kicking at himself behind her.

She started to walk away, but turned around and grinned at Tom's frown. "Cheer up I was only kidding too." She patted his cheek. "I'm just going to use the bathroom okay? Make sure when I get back out here I can find you with ease. I don't want to be alone with these people."

He laughed, tapping her nose with his finger once. "Alright. And hey since I am the driver for you, maybe to calm your nerves you could go drink something. Don't even lie, I saw you eyeing the tower of wine glasses." He winked at her.

"Ya caught me." She confessed with a smile. She walked away towards the bathroom, feeling the slight butterflies in her stomach that she always felt around Tom. They never seemed to go away.

Meanwhile just outside Wayne Tower, a black van had pulled up to a back entrance of the building. Seven men exited the van, loading their guns while standing around just outside their van. One of them grew impatient and reached for the door to enter the tower, when a purple gloved hand quickly bat away his hand.

The Joker licked his lips giving a dead stare to that man in the clown mask. "Now I want to explain something to you all." The six masked men all turned their heads to face the Joker as he spoke. "If things-" He made gestures with his hands as he talked. "Don't go according to plan-nah... grab the nearest person and use them as a uh...meat shield." He grinned at that last word liking the sound of it and the meaning behind it.

Just as he viewed people of Gotham City. Pieces of meat that were destine to slaughter one another.

One of the men perked his head not fully grasping what the Joker meant. "Meat shield?"

The Joker gave him a confused look before grabbing the man head and pulling him in front of him. He turned the man so that man's back faced him. He grabbed his gun and pressed it into the side of the man's head.

He grinned licking his lips again. "Now men...This." He tapped the gun on the side of the man's head. "THIS...is a meat shield. A person used so no one can attack you without harming the person placed in front of you...And since The Bat-tah-man is bound to show up and killing isn't in his forte, that is our escape plan. Batman won't harm the innocent and once we get down here back to the van and all is safe we simply-" The Joker pulled the trigger and his henchman in front of him fell to the ground, blood squirting out of his head rapidly. It began to soak through a few of the other men's shoes.

The Joker cracked his neck. "Dispose of them."

He let out a small laugh as he pushed the doors open, scanning the lobby for an elevator. He was very offended no one invited him to this party for Harvey Dent and he was determined to show them just how offended he was.

After going to the bathroom, Nichole remained in her stall. She placed her elbows on her knees and her hands on the side of her face as she hunched over in her seat. She rubbed her face in her hands, feeling tense as she sat.

She just wanted to go home and snuggle in front of her portable heater with a nice book or a good Lifetime movie, but sadly she knew she might be stuck at this party until Tom took her home. Walking was out of the question. Yes it was close to summer time, but honestly a walk down Gotham City past the sunset is a bad idea. Hell walking down the street in daylight was a bad idea. Though she didn't mind walking in the mornings and afternoons to her job, she never set foot in Gotham at night without someone with her.

This party was everything she knew it was going to be. A place full of rich snobs that think they control Gotham City, due to their money and high class. Maybe she was vain to assume that, since she knew Tom and he was very very nice and rich. But he had a cocky side. A very cocky side. Only thing that bugged her about him.

She felt the need to relax. She was the type of person that cared what other people would say about her. Anything negative would hit her hard. She would consider herself to have low self esteem, but she knows she has some. She knew what she was good at and what she wasn't, but if anyone insulted her on any level, it would be like a blow to the gut.

She needed to calm down right about now and knew just how to do it.

It was time to use her relaxer.

She reached in her purse and grabbed her music player, quickly turning it on and blaring the music into her ears.

Music was the only thing that could make her feel really and truly happy. It was rare a person could make her 100 percent happy, but music...music didn't ever stop or change. It was perfect. It flowed and took her far away from the party. To her own world where everything was perfect and organized and no harm came to her. No bills, long lines at coffee shops, and most importantly no overly rich people staring you down for not being in a designer dress. Yes this was her world of make believe. She sat there for maybe five minutes taking in every sound and syllable her favorite song played into her delicate ears; Unaware of all the events happening just outside the bathroom; Too into her music to hear gunshots and screams.

After her song ended she shut her music player off, and furrowed a brow upon hearing almost no sounds coming from the main party room.

Bruce Wayne must be making a toast or something...She thought as she placed her music player back into her purse and exited her stall.

She sighed taking a quick look at herself in the mirror, fixing her smudged eyeliner from when she was rubbing her face in her hands. The reflection she saw was just a face in the crowd in normal day, and here at the party it was, in her mind, the caged animal everyone would point and throw food at. She gave up trying to make herself look more formal, not really caring anymore at this point and headed back into the party room, looking down fixing her fake gold bracelet.

Transfixed on it and not really paying attention to what she was about to walk into...

The Joker had just stopped giggling. Throwing that Rachel girl out the window and watching Batman fly after her was just too much for him.

It was hilarious.

He turned around to face everyone when he realized three of his five men were knocked out from Batman's little fight. Only two of his guys and him were left, and only he had a gun. The other's had, had their guns flung out of their hands in the battle. The stupid bat had kicked the guns away.

He rolled his eyes.

He began to notice a few of the male party goers were starting to grab bottles and break them to create weapons. Some were even searching the ground for the guns that were kicked out of the goon's hands.

"Oh how cute." The Joker mumbled sarcastically. They want to see if they can overpower the Joker and his men now that only one gun was in the playing field.

He made his way to the opposite side of the room standing just outside the bathroom entrance, trying to find the elevator, as it was being blocked from his line of sight by the crowd. His henchmen had noticed too that the party goers were about to attack them and started to do the same.

The Joker was about to start shooting randomly at everyone, until he saw a figure walk by to the left of him.

He instinctively grabbed the person from behind by their wrist and twisted it forcefully behind their back. He then pressed his gun deeply into the side of their head. He heard many people gasp, and the person he had just grabbed for his meat shield screamed. It was at that moment he realized the person he grabbed was a female.

Just his luck.

People freaked out more when women or children's lives were threatened.

It was common knowledge.

It was the way humanity was.

Nichole screamed, as the grip on her wrist was very painful and so sudden. It felt like it was starting to form a bruise right then and there. At first she tried to twist her body so she could try and leave the grip of the person behind her, but when she felt the gun on the side of her head she stopped struggling. She looked at the crowd of people in front of her to see if she could see what was going on.

She met eyes with Tom. His face showed he was terrified. She mouthed "Help me" to him.

His pain filled eyes, looked down as he mouthed "Sorry." to her. He couldn't help her. Not without risking his own life. But she wanted him to do something. Anything! She wanted someone to come and get her out of whoever-had-a-gun-to-her's grip. Hell she would be fine with Batman coming even.

She could see two men in clown masks starting to walk towards the elevator they finally found, by shoving the crowd out of the way.

Clown masks... She thought to herself. Her eyes widened as she thought about the news reports she had seen the past few days. Oh my lord no...THE JOKER! FUCK!

"Now ev-ery-one needs to put down their little weapons, or this...I'm sorry what's your name beautiful?" The Joker asked. He had bent down a bit so his mouth was by her ear. He tugged on her wrist to emphasis he was talking to her.

"Nichole." She said between her teeth while grunting in the sharp pain his tug produced. It was like her mind was going blank. Her stomach was in a tight knot that kept tightening as the seconds passed by. She could smell a very bad odor coming from the Joker behind her. A dangerous smell of gasoline and guns. If that was even a smell...

"We wouldn't want Nikki here to get hurt-tah...now would we?" He asked the crowd of people. His tone was very calm and his words flowed out his mouth like her music would flow into her ears.

Nichole was taken aback for a moment. No one had ever called her Nikki except her mother. Nikki sounded too childish to her and she would always ask for people to call her Nichole. Plain and simple. Though many people often spelled it wrong.

There was a low mumble in the room, as people were whispering to each other, debating their options.

Nichole let out another small unexpected scream as The Joker pushed her forward, by pushing her wrist, gun still painfully pressed into her head.

He didn't even look down at her. In fact he didn't look at her once since he grabbed her. He wasn't interested in his meat shield's appearance, he was more interested in the elevator's doors that he had his eyes locked on.

He said with mocking care as she struggled to break free of his grasp, "Oh shush shush shush." He rubbed the gun back and forth on the side of her head to "soothe" her.

She felt the bile in her stomach start to rise slowly. She had to swallow to avoid throwing up.

There was some fears that one just could not start to cry from. This was one of them. Her body was too in shock to process the command in her mind telling her to cry.

He backed into the elevator, grinning at the horrified looks on people's faces. He let go of her wrist and gave a small wave to everyone "Hope you enjoyed tonight's show but sadly we most bid you adieu."

Nichole could see out of the corner of her eye his purple gloved hand wave to the crowd. She swallowed hard once more, trying to calm herself down as the elevator doors shut. She could freely turn around to look into the eyes of The Joker, but if she did, she would surely start screaming.

In the elevator, she felt so small. The space they were in felt as if it was closing in on them. The closed elevator door showed a blurred reflection, so she could see a blob of purple standing behind her as well as two other men.

It was dead silence as they made made their way to the basement level. The Joker was spacing out thinking about where Batman might be at this very moment, and Nichole was trying to control her heart rate so she wouldn't have a heart attack.

The doors open, and the Joker handed the gun to one of his henchmen and said quietly to him. "You lead bub." The masked man obeyed quickly and placed the gun on the back of Nichole's head, grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back again.

Nichole was slightly thankful this man's grip on her wrist was not as tight as the Joker's.

He walked her forward toward a back door. As they got outside, they walked to their black van parked under a street light a few yards away. One man, with no mask on, was sitting in the drivers seat waiting for them.

Nichole grunted in pain at each step trying to get herself free, her poor wrist was not used to all this pressure.

"Where da others?" The driver asked as the four reached the van. The Joker simply replied by shooting the driver. No henchmen of his was going to use that word "da" in front of him. Its simply too informal, for his eardrums.

"Clean that mess up." He said to the masked man who wasn't with Nichole.

The person holding Nichole's wrist let go of it and stopped pressing the gun to her head. She stumbled forward a bit. She rubbed at her wrist, which was in a lot of pain from all the hard twisting it had just endured. She stared at it and saw faintly a purple color start to appear on it.

Fucking A! She thought to herself, rubbing at it in some attempt to ease the pain.

"Hey boss. What do you want me to do with her?" One of the men asked the Joker.

The Joker just let out a irritated sigh. He then looked at the two, debating his options.

He eyed her up and down slowly, in thought as he took in the details of her he could see in the dim outside lighting.

She was a few inches above five feet. Very skinny and frail looking. She looked to him, like he could grab her arm and snap it broken.

She had blond hair, that stopped just around her chest area. It was wavy, and her bangs were parted to the side and covered half her forehead. He took in her attire and that was what really stuck out to him. She was dressed differently than all the other females at the party. She looked very informal and her shirt was wrinkled and shoes were worn. She looked like someone average, not a person he would expect to see at a Bruce Wayne party.

He was interested though, as to why a simple average person would be at an expensive Bruce Wayne party. It was her attire that caught his eye. His curious eye.

He pegged her to be a waitor or someone with no taste in style.

Her two green eyes looked terrified as he gazed deeply into them. Her lips were parted slightly. He guessed she was too "checking" him out and, if she was sane, she was scared.

And he could see it even in the small amount of light given off by the flickering street light, she was absolutely terrified. He was basking in her fear and he suddenly felt a powerful feeling surge through him. He liked being the cause of a person's fear.

She seemed so innocent. An average Gotham person, out of place in a formal rich setting. He saw an error in that. He began to think how funny it was that if she did not want to come to the party in the first place, how much she would hate it now that he decided to use her as his escape plan.

Ideas poured into his head, some were what he could do with this new meat to help him corrupt the city further, and others thoughts of his were involving him, her, and a couple of nights of fun and knives! He could just get a chill up his spine at the thought of a knife running through her skin. It made him suddenly relaxed. But enough of those thoughts...He had no interest in that at the moment. He had to think of more uses for her than just that. If he wanted that he could easily just pick up a hooker, screw her and then not pay her, because he would have killed her by then. No...she had to have another use besides that. Maybe if he stared at her just a bit longer his brain waves might flow easier.

Gotham City must go down. It was the tip of the ice burge, that would start a chain reaction and bring the world to the realization of how horrible it is and how cruel the people in it are.

Would it be possible to create pure chaos with one single person?

To cause Gotham to fall apart at the seams and the citizens loose faith in its government?

He wondered suddenly if he could make a person so lost and mental that they willingly would follow him and believe in his ideas and help him. Not like his henchmen, who do what they do for pay or drugs, but literally be mindfucked so badly that the person was almost as messed up as him.

He thought he could do it.

He always liked a challenge.

And this person in front of him looked like something he could easily break. She looked like a squealer.

No he didn't know what to do at the moment with her. All the choices.

Why waste blood on something that did not have a greater cause to it? Here he was presented with a tool and he was going to be the artist and use that tool for a master piece.

Maybe he could strap a bomb to her eventually and then-...

Nichole looked up into the eyes of the Joker and stopped rubbing her wrist. Her body just froze.

When she got her first good look at the Joker, she opened her mouth not in amazement, but in fear and disgust.

She had seen him on the television, but in person he was truly terrifying. On a television things don't seem as scary since there is a glass screen separating a person from the thing. But here, standing maybe a few feet away from each other, there was no glass screen to separate Nichole from this monstrous man.

The way he stood way very odd. He had a slight hunch to him. His purple coat and gloves fit perfectly against his body. She guessed it was custom made. She could see his green vest and tie. For a bad guy he was dressed exceptionally well, minus the slight coverage of dirt on him. Maybe without the makeup and scars he could pull off a business man, with a weird taste for the color purple.

His green tinted hair was all messy and some of it stuck to his face, but he didn't seem to care one bit. His face was covered in white makeup, and black around his eyes. His lips and cheeks held red lipstick.

And on his cheeks were two jagged scars.

She focused on them. She could feel bile starting to rise in her throat, but she swallowed quickly to stop it. His scars were so ugly and disgusting and horrid. She didn't know whether to feel sorry for him or to spit at him. But the way he put his lipstick on them, must mean he likes his scars. He wants people like Nichole to notice them.

Knowing the way his mind works...She bet he did them to himself.

She looked back up into his eyes which were focused on her. They were black and seemed to be even darker than the black makeup around his eyes. The look he gave her, felt like he was shooting daggers into her spine, because this whole time she didn't move an inch. It was like her brain shut off and her body went numb.

She wanted to scream in fear but her voice simply ran off. Fear took over her body.

She never in her life had felt so much terror in one instance. The Joker sucked up all emotions, but pure terror. Her lungs felt heavy in her chest and each breath was painful and staggered. Her stomach dropped and was in physical pain from the fear she felt. Goosebumps formed all over her pale skin and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and chilled her body with horror. She had the urge to cry, but the fear prevented her from any tears forming. It felt painful that no tears were coming out as she internally was crying. Her throat was tense and her jaw set in place to prevent her from shivering in terror. Her body did not move an inch and her hand remained unmoving on her bruised wrist the entire time.

The sound of the man behind her checking his gun to make sure the bullets were in it was the next sound that took her eyes from the Joker for a brief second. She glanced to her side and saw him start to raise the gun to her. Before he could repress the gun into the side of her head, a shot was heard.

Nichole squealed shutting her eyes tightly, thinking the Joker decided to shoot her instead. She heard a loud thud, and she opened her eyes again to see the man on the ground with a pool of blood starting to seep out from underneath him. She turned back to the Joker and saw him lowering his gun, and then tossing it back into the car.

The only surviving goon tilted his head, "What the fuck? I thought you said kill the person after we done usin' them?"

The Joker licked his lips once more moving closer to Nichole. He began circling her, eyeing the rest of her features. It was at that moment Nichole realized he was very tall, and towered over her, and he was also pretty skinny. As if he hadn't had a decent meal since last year, but she guessed underneath those layers of clothes, were muscles. His arms under the cloth hinted he had them.

She crossed her arms across her chest and rubbed at her upper arms feeling very light headed as he walked around her. She did not break eye contact with him once.

"A-ta-ta I did say that. But you see-" The Joker went over and grabbed the man's head and turned it so he would be facing the woman.

"She does have some more uses." He made a click noise in his mouth, letting go his the man's head. Nichole gulped as the Joker reached over and grabbed one of her upper arms and shoved her in the van's back seat, the other man climbed into the blood stained front seat, pushing the dead body on to the van's floor.

"Drive-vah" The Joker said as he hopped into the seat next to Nichole.

To Kill a Mocking Bird, is one the most famous books out there. Personally did not like it when my junior year was forced to read it.

Lifetime movies, are on a television network called Lifetime. It consists of horrible overdramatic dramas, mainly revolving around woman. I find the channel laughable.

*Fan Art for this story is located in my userprofile. Links are provided there. Many fanarts to see and I urge you to look at the amazing time and effort people have put into them and comment on their hard work.