AN UNLIKELY ENCOUNTER

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CHAPTER 1

It was hot.

It was really hot.

I woke up this morning, my hair sticking to my face, my body trapped in a cocoon of bed sheets I'd created in my sleep.

I could hear sirens blaring in the distance, the sound of angry caffeine-deprived drivers shouting obscenities greeted me; Just another annoying day in Gotham City.

I spared a glance at the clock. Sigh, I'm late again.

I wonder if today I can manage to find the energy to care. . .

Didn't think so.

It took me ten more minutes of coaxing my body to move for me to succeed in getting out of bed.

"Hey Katherine! You want an omelette, or some pancakes?" called my roommate, Roxanne from the kitchen. God bless that woman.

"How about both?" I yelled back, sleep evident in my voice.

I crawled to the bathroom to take a shower, removing an article of clothing with every step. I avoided looking in the mirror as I always do. No need to work myself up this early in my routine.

I adjusted the temperature of the water to how I liked it and stepped into the tub, where the seductive liquid invigorated my skin until I finally felt more alert.

I exited the shower and brushed my long hair into a messy bun, did my morning routine and got dressed.

As I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by the tantalizing scents of caramelized peppers, cheese, spices, and flapjacks. My stomach grumbled in agony.

I smiled for the first time today. "Roxanne, can you hear how much I love you right now?"

I live in a small three-roomed flat on the fourth floor of a decent-looking, brick apartment building at the edge of the city. Traffic wasn't that bad, and a Starbucks lined every street corner.

Roxanne grinned at me over her shoulder.

"I make you breakfast everyday," She replied. I sighed, "Exactly."

"Well, I'm not sure you'll have enough time to eat all of this," She turned and laughed at the stricken look on my face.

"I mean, weren't you supposed to meet up with an art dealer," she checked her watch, "-about two hours ago?"

I sighed again, "Roxanne, you know I couldn't care less about any responsibilities that I have," I took a seat at the table. "Besides, I'm not gonna miss out on your fabulous French cuisine to talk to some old geezer about how my work should be handled and shit."

Roxanne clucked her tongue at me while adding some salt to the eggs, "Usually at this point I'd laugh at your indifference, but I'd appreciate it if you could help me pay the rent every once in a while. I can't have you getting too lazy on me now." She turned and gave me one of her winning smiles.

"Besides, how are you gonna meet the guy of your dreams sitting on your ass, drawing all day?"

I rolled my eyes at her. I don't think Roxanne has ever had any problems finding the "guy of her dreams," she's so exotic. I mean, I guess in some ways we're pretty similar.

We're both tall, at least 5-8, both well endowed, and our tastes in music is the same. But that's where the similarities end.

Roxanne is slim, with dark eyes and smooth cocoa colored skin. She's social, outgoing, and strong-willed.

Roxanne tells me that I'm beautiful, what with my long shatan hair, shapely legs, curvy figure, slim face, and my big hazel eyes, but I can't see who she's looking at.

When I look in the mirror, all I see is my Turkish background, my pale skin, caterpillar eyebrows, and introverted personality. I can almost hear Roxanne disagreeing with me in my head, telling me to stop being so hard on myself.

"Oh fer sure. I bet I'll find Mr. Right sitting next to the hobo on the subway, holding out daisies and heart-shaped chocolate for me," I muttered sarcastically, munching on my omelette. Roxanne clucked her tongue again. "I wish you wouldn't be so private," she said, " How are you gonna expect to fall in love when you appear to hate the human race with such a fiery passion?"

"It's not just an appearance," I informed her, "I well and truly hate everybody,"

She stared at me.

I swallowed the last bit of my pancakes before I amended, "Except for you of course,"

Now Roxanne rolled her eyes, "Before you go, I wanted to warn you. There have been some reports of attacks in the dark part of town at night. Some people say that the . . . uh . . .. Joker," She hates saying his name, "Is up to his old tricks again,"

This got my attention.

Everyone in town knows about the infamous Joker.

Bombing the Hospital.

Robbing the Banks.

Kidnapping the innocent and forcing others to commit sins in order to retrieve them.

Being so demented and rebellious.

Basically, wrecking havoc in the streets of Gotham. Only, he's been dead for two years.

Or so we thought.

"Dude. Even if I did run into the Joker, what possible reason would he have to hold me hostage? I mean what would he do? Call my mom? She's in freaking Russia drinking Vodka and partying it up. She probably wouldn't even believe that the Joker was on the phone calling her asking for a ransom for me. He only takes interesting or valuable people into custody with him and his goons," I was starting to become bitter at this point, "He'd take one look at me and pass me right on by acting as if he'd never seen me cause I'm so freaking unimpor-

Roxanne slammed her hands down on the counter.

"Girl, you REALLY need some self-confidence," She began, "I don't know how you can look at yourself and not see. Babe, the Joker would see you, and he'd just take you on the spot due to the fact that you are just SO freaking beautiful, that he couldn't help himself."

Roxanne took a close look at me. "And why do you sound so down-trodden at the idea that the Joker wouldn't want to kidnap you?" she asked curiously.

"No real reason. It's just a blow to my ego," I couldn't tell Roxanne the true source of disappointment is that I've been obsessing over the guy for years. In fact, the whole reason for moving to Gotham was to get a chance to see him.

And then he died.

Before she could get any more suspicious, I left the apartment with the excuse of not wanting to be anymore late than I already was. I caught a glimpse of Roxanne giving me the we-will-talk-later look, before I flew out the door to the stairway and outside the building to begin my long trek to the "Coup de la Fleur" art studio on Buckingham Street in the city.

It was about 2:30 P.M. when I arrived.

I entered the studio to an angry looking Jeffrey Parkins, the art dealer for the establishment.

He was wearing an expensive gray suit with a loosely worn blue tie and the first few buttons of his white shirt was undone. His dark blond hair was sticking to his forehead and his face was perspiring. He would be kinda cute I guess, if it weren't for his small mud-colored eyes and his big-ish nose.

He looked like he'd been waiting outside in the heat for a while.

He glared when he saw me, "What happened to 10:00 A.M.?" he said angrily.

I shrugged, "It probably died in the war," I replied, unfazed by his harsh stare.

He looked shocked for a second before he recovered, "You're impossible you know that?"

Again I shrugged, "So I've been told. Listen, do you want my work or not? Tell me now so I can still make the lunch special at Denny's," I'm probably going to regret being so bitchy later.

His dark expression deepened. "I'm sorry, Am I wasting YOUR time?"

I didn't grace him with a response.

There was a long pause.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

He took a deep breath, "Listen," he began slowly, carefully choosing his words, "The only reason why I'm not biting your fucking head off right now, is because I need you for my art show next week. Understand though, that I am NOT the most patient man. You WILL meet ALL of your deadlines when I assign them. If not, I will make sure that you'll NEVER be able to sell your ANY of your art in Gotham EVER again. Are we clear?"

I sighed reluctantly at him, "Yeah."

"Good. Now go away before I fire you," he stated. Wow, this coming from the guy who just told me that he needs my artwork. Good luck holding your threats after that one bub.

I smiled to myself as I strolled out of the building. I mean, I was just interrogated, yelled at, threatened, and complimented in one foul swoop, and the day isn't even over yet. I broke like, eleven different rules with the guy, and got away with it.

I am on fire!

As I walked down the street in search of some lunch, I let my mind wander to Roxy's question earlier. Why DID I care so much? I mean, The Joker intrigues me sure, and he does have a few things going for him in the bad-boy attraction department, but do I have a crush on him or something? Is it serious?

Well, I HAVE drawn quite a few pictures of the Joker's face in my sketchbook.

I continued walking around town, but I wasn't really in search of anything anymore. I was merged so deep into my own thoughts, that my body was moving of it's own accord.

I shook my head at myself. What kind of person had to be messed up enough to have a crush on the most terrifying, disturbed, demented villain in Gotham City? Chuckling to myself as I was walking, I passed by a closed shop with the windows scratched, and the door was boarded up. I turned and looked at my reflection. There I saw myself in my usual attire; Beige boots, a patterned skirt, a mono-colored tank top, my Yin necklace (Roxanne has the Yang), and the light, silvery blue mascara I put on my eyelids.

What kind of person indeed? I guess people are right when they say "It's always the quiet ones . . ."

Fuck.

Popping sounds could be heard as he stretched his constricted muscles. His clothes were dirty and faded, his hair was that same vomit-green, his face, and still the picture of fear and dementia, and his make-up was caked on and cracked. He was not in a very good shape.

Two years in hiding could do that to a guy. He currently resided in a dingy gray, rusty abandoned warehouse off the coast of the Gotham City bay near the fishing boats and the loading docks. The Joker took a deep breath, 'I don't think I'll ever be able go around any goddamn fucking fish ever again,' he thought cynically.

The warehouse wasn't made up of multiple rooms or anything. It was just basically a giant empty space alone. There were sleeping bags of various colors on the floor in every corner, but the biggest and most comfortable piece of furniture belonged to none other than the infamous Joker himself.

He was currently going through his plans in his mind, stopping to take notes on hypothetical situation every there and then.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and from the corner of his eye, he spotted one of his dumber-looking goons about to make one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Asking The Joker an undeniably stupid fucking question while he's so obviously busy doing something important.

"Hey Boss? New guy wants to know what your big 'Blowout party' scheme is." The goon stated dully, almost reluctantly.

The Joker sighed. He was going to have to remind these fuck-tards of their place in his presence.

He licked his lips and turned around to face the goon.

He paused for a moment and tilted his head to the right, sucking on his scars. "What is your name?" The Joker asked, allowing a sinister smirk to slowly creep up on his face. Telling the goon that he was, in fact, not at ALL happy with him despite the big smile on the Joker's face.

The goon turned pale, and hesitated to reply, tripping over his words and shuffling his feet in nervous fear. He could tell by the dark aura his boss was emitting that he was in serious trouble.

"Uh. Um. Boss, I-I- it wasn't me w-who wanted t-to know, I swear. It-It-I wasn't-"

"Shut the fuck up."

The goons mouth audibly closed with a snap, and a cold swear broke out across his forehead as The Joker got off his bed and started making his way toward the about-to-be-dead man.

The Joker chuckled darkly, "Funny. I recall asking you a question. And, I don't know about you but . . ." he paused to lick his lips, "Usually when I ask a question, I. Want. An. Answer." The Joker inched closer with every word and the goon was frozen in place.

Joker took a deep breath, "So. I'm going to ask you one. More. Time . . . What is your name?"

The goon began to shake uncontrollably, as he searched his mind for the one piece of information that his brain could not provide; seeing as how his fight or flight instincts were clouding up all thoughts.

The Joker was almost nose-to-nose with the rather unflattering, overweight goon.

The goon opened and closed his mouth, making a good impression of a fish out-of-water until he finally gained the courage to speak.

"J-Jason W-W-Wells b-boss."

The Joker thought for a bit. Taking a moment to memorize every detail of the panicked look, on the Mr. Jason Wells, The Joker came to a conclusion, on what he would do with the man.

He placed a hand on the goon's shoulder in an almost brotherly way.

"Listen. Jason, was it? Yes, Jason. Now, I'm feeling kinda," The Joker smirked, "Generous. I guess you could say. So I'm not gonna kill you." He saw Jason's shoulders relax a bit.

He grinned wider, "In fact. I'm in SUCH a good mood, that not only will I spare your life, but also, I'll humor you, and tell the uh, did you call him new guy? Yeah, like I said: The "New guy". I'll tell him what I'm up to.

The Joker felt the man let his guard down, confident in the fact that he had, in fact, not screwed himself over.

Smiling to himself as if he knew a secret that no one else did, The Joker turned to face his rather intimidating followers.

He had an announcement to make.

"Now," He began, "It seems to me that little Gotham city has gotten a little," The Joker licked his lips, "Com-for-ta-ble, with my absence," The Joker tsked, and shook his pale finger at his goons. "And we all know that we can't have that. So I've decided to make my grand entrance into the city, starting with a teensy little bank heist. Nothing special. Just something to let the people know that The Joker is back . . . And he's planning something," The Joker grinned devilishly, and turned back around to face Jason, who looked blank, and not at all intimidated by The Joker's gaze anymore.

'We're going to have to change that,' the Joker thought, before he pulled back his arm, and punched the goon in the jaw.

The goon's mouth twisted at a sickening angle, as Jason fell down like a sack of bricks, making aloud 'thud'.

The Joker got into Jason's face.

He lowered his voice.

"Next time you wanna ask me a question from 'the new guy' make the fuck sure that I've actually ADDED someone new to the group," The Joker lifted his body from the man crumpled on the floor in pain.

He turned away and made a motion with his hands, signaling all the goons to follow him.

As the rest of them were leaving the warehouse, The Joker looked back at the pathetic piece of shit lying on the floor in disgust.

He chuckled darkly. "Didn't anyone tell you Jason?"

The Joker turned around and exited the warehouse.

"I don't like liars."

God I'm hungry!

I've been walking around, distracted by my thoughts, until I somehow managed to wander right into the center of Gotham City! The city is like, two miles from the Coup de la Fleur art studio.

What was I on?

I sighed to myself, exasperated by the thought of having to decide between taking a dirty, smelly Gotham taxi, dried vomit on the floor and bad-tempered illiterate taxi drivers, or, god forbid, WALKING home.

I tried not to think about that though, as I passed by the most posh, snooty, expensive dining hall in the City. This is where Bruce Wayne and The mayor go to eat their meals. It usually holds the city's Christmas Bell Ball, an event that only invites the most exclusive of people. Celebrities almost.

Roxanne and I have always dreamed about attending one of their parties.

Roxanne sometimes jokes that we'd have to have sold some of our organs just to afford the type of clothing required for eligibility to enter into the grand hall.

Looking at that place always makes me die a little inside.

'Someday,' I thought.

Tearing myself away from my depressing thoughts, I turned my mind onto the most important topic at the moment.

Food.

Seeing as how I'm in the most populated area of the city, I'd say that a hamburger at McDonalds would be about seven dollars here.

I checked my wallet.

A deep dark pit of nothingness greeted me. As Always.

I let out an almost hysterical laugh. "Wonderful!" I exclaimed aloud, drawing looks from the people passing me by on the street. The stares I was getting from the locals only caused me to laugh louder with a falsetto pitch.

I tried to tone it down a bit, seeing the children start to hide behind their parents and whatnot, that is, until I realized that the closest atm-machine was at the bank, which was located further downtown.

Yay more walking!

Grumbling to myself, taking care to place my best bitch-look on my face, I walked quickly down the street in the direction of the bank, and I decided to let my thoughts wander once more.

You know, no one could really come up with a reason for the Joker's two-year absence.

Some people hoped that the Batman had killed him, or if not him, then something else. Perhaps Jesus.

Some, like Roxanne thought that he left the city for another, on the belief that he's had enough fun with the people of Gotham, and maybe he got bored.

Others, like me, knew deep down inside that the Joker hadn't left. And that he wasn't going to leave. I think he's planning something. Something big.

Of course, I could be wrong. I mean, I've held this belief for years, twistedly hoping that I'd get to see his face on the news once again. Or get some sign that he's alive and well. Something.

I smiled a bit while walking, thinking of what Roxanne would say if she knew my true feelings about the "gift" of the Joker being gone.

She'd send me strait to Arkham.

I arrived in front of the great staircase leading up to the main source of money in the city.

Gotham City Bank of America, or GCBA for short.

I Rolled my eyes and groaned at the fact that now I'm going to have to CLIMB the mountainous stairs leading up to the building after walking four miles strait in my least comfortable boots all day today. On an empty stomach on top of it.

Feeling the straining muscles in my legs, I trekked up the stairs, walked to the door, and collapsed onto a fancy overstuffed leather chair in the lobby of the back.

I let out an unrestrained moan of content when my butt was absorbed into the cushioned seat, drawing attention to me for the second time today.

'Sigh. I'm too tired to give a shit right now,' were my last thoughts as my body surrendered to silky promises of comfort coming from the chair.

I don't know how long I slept.

But when I woke up, it was getting dark outside, and there were the scattered array of old women and children gossiping and giving me disgusted looks. I had to smile like that.

Roxanne would have freaked if she knew that I fell asleep in a public place like some homeless person on the street.

Reluctantly, I got up from my now warm resting place, my clothes sticking to the leather of the couch, and I carried myself up to the atm-machine to take some money from my account.

I didn't even get to insert my debit card when a powerful and unexpected explosion from the back entrance of the bank surrounded my senses.

Little containers were tossed high into the air, and once they hit the ground, laughing gas was released.

Quickly attempting to gather up my stuff and get away without being noticed, the sight of the barrel of a .75 glock greeted me, pointed in between my eyes.

A tall, burly man dressed up as a clown, make-up and all, wearing a gas mask, grabbed my arm, and shoved me roughly into the thicker area of laughing gas and people.

He pushed me into the crowd, causing me to stumble and fall.

Looking up from the floor, I saw a dark silhouette through the thick fog of the laughing gas. The shadowy figure let out a long, loud, maniacal laugh.

My head started to feel light, and a goofy smile appeared on my face. The knowledge that I was probably going to die invaded my mind, but the gas kept my mind from sending signals to my body.

I stayed on the floor.

I was drowsy.

I was hungry.

I was probably gonna die.

I was about to close my eyes, before a gloved hand came into my vision and through the fog, I could see a faint smile on the figure above me.

The voice spoke.

"Hey. Hey! It's alright Hon, just don't attract any attention to yourself and the Joker won't kill you." The man whispered. The sound barely audible compared to the loud ringing in my ears.

Slowly, with the stranger's help, I got up to my feet, and I began to take small, shallow breaths as to avoid getting too crazy off of the noxious gases in the air.

All the heads of the hostage crowd whipped around when we heard an overly familiar, loud, obnoxious, spine-tingling laugh.

I froze on the spot. "Wait," I mouthed, "No way,"

"Hello Boys and girls! And welcome to the party! Ha!" A dark figure emerged far away to my right, and from that distance, I could only make out the fact that he was wearing a long purple overcoat, and matching purple pants, a green vest, and a chain that was attached to the side of his hip.

Of course the last thing I would notice would be his face and hair; I used to always tend to see that part last.

There was no mistaking it now. The shadowy figure is, in fact, the Joker.

'Welcome home,' I thought before I could stop myself.

The same thing interrupted my thoughts again; that abrupt cackling laugh.

The Joker stood up on a large Oakwood desk furthest away from the small circle of people in the center of the room.

There was a knife in his hand. His laugh lowered in pitch and deepened in intensity making a shiver go up my spine.

"Well children, I feel like playing a game. Don't you?" The Joker paused to switch his knife to his other hand, and lick his lips simultaneously.

He jumped off of the desk, and began to swing his body, almost as if he were dancing, toward the crowd, a mischievous smile plastered onto his face.

"Yes," He inquired, "I think that a game would be the absolute per-fect way to, uh, start this party out with a," The Joker stopped walking, and made a gun with his first two fingers connected, and his thumb raised, "Bang."

The Joker's eyes scanned the crowd quickly, searching for something.

"Hmmmm... I think I wanna play a classic game... maybe... Hide and seek?" The Joker laughed abruptly. Making the audience Jump or cringe. Some even cried.

I only smiled a little. I mean, C'mon. Gimme a break here, the dude's been "dead" for two years! I had almost lost all hope of his existence on this planet.

I sighed quietly. 'Not that I was supposed to have that kind of hope.' I thought, exasperated with myself.

The Joker had been pacing as my thoughts had run wild. His eyes were still scanning the crowd.

He turned on his heel and stood, looking as if he'd already come to a conclusion.

He grinned, "I'm sure you all know the rules of Hide-and-Seek, but just for those die-hard idiots, I'll explain them to you once more,"

"Somebody's gonna be 'It'. When the 'It' turns around to count, all the good little sheep are gonna hide, and when 'It' is done counting... 'It' is going. To. Find. You." He flashed us a large, toothy smile as he felt the curiosity rise from the crowd of hostages.

We all knew that there was a catch.

"Ha! There's no fooling you, huh Gotham? Yes, a nice little pussy game of Hide-and-Seek would be quite the pleasant surprise coming from me wouldn't it?" he smirked at us, "Unfortunately, all you babies will have to grow balls and man the fuck up. We're playing a big boy game now..."

He began to pace again, but slower this time.

"Yes, we're all big boys and girls now aren't we? And so, I say fuck that kind of kiddie game. Let's up the antics. You see this?" The Joker pulled a tiny device from the left pocket of his purple coat, and it had a big red button on it. He gestured to his hand and presented the little device for the entire crowd of people to see.

"This, my little sheep, is called a DETONATOR. And can anyone guess what this pretty little detonator might set off?" The Joker cupped his right ear with his right hand, and leaned toward the crowd, as is listening for a response to his question.

No one said anything. The answer was obvious.

A Bomb. The detonator sets off a bomb.

The Joker 'Harrumphed' exaggeratedly at our silence and chuckled quietly to himself.

"You guys are SUCH a great audience," The Joker licked his lips, "Well, despite your defiant silence, I'm sure that you all know the answer to. My. Question." The joker put on a falsetto voice, "But Joker? What do bombs have to do with the game hide-and-seek?" The Joker sucked on his bottom lip.

"Well, Peo-ple, I'm going to tell you what."

My heart dropped to my stomach. "I'm going to strap a bomb to 'It'. 'It' is going to look for all the little boys and girls one by one. And every single person. . ."

The Joker flipped his knife as he was finally approaching me, my heart beating in sync with his steps. Oh God.

"Must," The Joker licked his lips. Only a few more steps. . .

"Be," Two more steps.

"Found." The Joker himself stood right in front of me, and with my heart palpitating wildly inside my chest, I quickly look away, avoiding his eyes, but I stared at him through my side vision.

He pauses for a moment, and I can just barely make out his head tilting in curiosity.

Oh God.

He then walks away from me, and I let out the breath I was apparently holding.

Luckily, he didn't hear my loud exhale, as he starts to speak again.

"If 'It' doesn't find ev-e-ry single per-son, then I kill 'It', and everybody in the room. If 'It' finds ALMOST every person, for example, let's just say the 'It' doesn't find one measly little sheep. Then, 'It' will have the choice of letting the stray pig get the cut, or putting 'It'-self in my mercy. . ."

There were gasps scattered all around the room. Some people broke out into sobs, and others paled, looking petrified, almost like statues.

I, for one, felt nothing. On one hand, if I was gonna have to be 'It', and I lose, I'm at the Joker's mercy, and I could die by the Joker's hands. Which, for me, wouldn't be such a bad way to go I have to admit.

Jeez, I am such a weirdo. . .

But on the other hand. . . well. . . even though dying on behalf of the Joker is more appealing than other ways of leaving this world, I really don't want to explode. I know for a fact that Roxy would be heartbroken if, not only did I die, but also that she wouldn't even get to dress up my dead carcass for my funeral.

I chuckled. My logic is so warped.

I seemed to have chuckled a bit too loudly though, because the Joker froze mid-step, his head whipping around angrily towards the source of the offensive sound. The Joker saw me chuckling, and he started palming and playing with the detonator and knife in his hands.

Almost like a warning.

The Joker tilted his head, "Is somebody. . ? Laughing at me?" He asked incredulously.

I didn't hear him, and I continued to chuckle quietly. High off of the Laughing gas in the room, with funny thoughts about how Roxanne would perform my funeral in mind, I didn't notice his furious glare at all.

The Joker gripped his weapons tightly in his fists, and pivoted so quickly, his shoes mimicked the sound of car tires squealing after a particularly hard turn.

In only a few long strides, Joker was towering over me, and then he leaned in close to my face.

I stopped chuckling.

He was so close, that I had no choice but to look into his pitch-black eyes; so dark, that I couldn't separate his pupils from his irises no matter how long I looked.

The Joker smiled big and toothy. 'Oh shit, that's never a good sign,' I thought.

"Hmmmm. . . I'm pr-e-tt-y sure you know that I'm always up for a good joke. . . care to tell me what exactly what is so funny?" The joker moistened his lips with his tongue, causing me to feel it lightly on my own upper lip. We were that close.

Shivers wracked my body, and I assume that the Joker interpreted this as fear, judging by the expression on his face, when it was actually an entirely opposite emotion.

Anticipation.

The Joker suddenly frowned. He seemed confused. I'm probably the only person to go this long staring into the Joker's eyes without any hint of a nervous glance or hatred.

Suddenly, the Joker leaned away from my face, and he grinned down at me. He barked out a laugh.

"Tell me little girl. . . What is your name?" He dragged out his words, with exaggerated curiosity and a smile resembling that of a maniac.

I looked right into his eyes.

"Katherine Quinzel," I responded. My voice unwavering.

The Joker looked taken aback for a moment. I guess he wasn't expecting me to answer him so quickly. Perhaps not even at all.

The Joker didn't say anything for a moment. Then he reached up, and took my chin between his thumb and index finger, and tilted my face so that he could get a better look at me.

Without releasing his hold on my face, the Joker leaned in close to me again, and whispered in my ear.

"I think I've found 'It' . . ."

For some reason, my heart dropped.

The Joker didn't say 'I think I've found 'It',' like he was discovering something new and precious; he said it like he was trying his hardest to overcome me with fear. He was trying to cause me pain.

Sigh, well what did I expect our first encounter to be like?

Roxy's words repeated in my head "Babe, The Joker would see you, and he'd just take you on the spot, due to the fact that you are just SO freaking beautiful, that he couldn't help himself," Yeah right, I thought bitterly.

The Joker, pleased to see some form of disappointment on my face, though still mildly surprised that I didn't hold any other stronger emotions coursing through my body, let go of my face, and strides away merrily.

The Joker opened his arms extravagantly, and gestured to me with a suggestive smirk, "Guess what piggies! I've found our 'It'! Lucky lady Katty Quinzel is going have the wonderful honor of being responsible for ALL of your deaths today!" The Joker let loose a loud, cackling chuckle, and spared a few evil glances at me.

The look of disappointment was not the kind that he was looking for. Mine was more of an 'Oh man my gelato just melted' as opposed to a 'I've been given a death sentence that I will most likely serve' kind of disappointment, which most likely frustrated him most of all.

He clapped his hands together, "Well . . . Cat-ty . . ." The Joker licked his lips, "I don't see any reason to dilly-dally any longer. I'm sure that you're just dying to get to this. Now, lets get you all e-quipped."

Five of the goons that surrounded the crowd in a circle came forward, and since I was located towards the center of the group of people, they violently shoved some innocent bystanders out of the way.

I was flanked on both sides with burly, intimidating, skinheads, and they each grabbed one of my shoulders to hold me in place. Then, the other three goons, two of which had tattoos covering their entire bodies with crew cuts and dark hair, and the third was shorter than me, and had wavy longish hair, but was dark-skinned and packed with some serious muscle.

I rolled my eyes. What does the Joker feed these barbarians? Fucking Steroids with their Frosted Flakes every morning? The goons who weren't holding my shoulders were also carrying the bomb.

It looked like a big circular shoebox with a black smiley face on it, except for the fact that there were wires protruding out of the device from every angle. There were all sorts of straps and wires attached to it though. It looked as if it would have taken a few days just to get all the wires all tangled up like this.

It was a bomb squad's worst nightmare.

And it was going on me.

Now I started to feel uncomfortable.

Just to be difficult, I decided to make it as hard as possible for the goons to place 'happy death' on me by bending my arms when they try to slip it through, and occasionally obtaining random seizures, which entailed a lot of sharp movement, which, in turn, threw them off, causing them to glare angrily and occasionally shove me, by doing so, making it so that the Goons would have had to start all over again.

The Joker looked on at the show I was performing with high amusement and a hearty amount of curiosity as to the reasons behind my behavior.

'So,' the Joker thought, 'The 'Kit-Kat' is comfortable with me touching her and speaking to her and looking at her,' the Joker raised an eyebrow in thought, 'But she seems quite uneasy about the goons' close proximity . . . how . . . fascinating,' he thought with a grin, 'I think I like this Kath-er-ine Quin-zel.'

Five or so minutes later, the goons finally were able to successfully attach the very large, and unsurprisingly heavy smile-bomb to my body. Making me look like a suicide bomber or something equivalent to that.

When they stepped away from me, the Joker took his place at my left, and wrapped a large, but at first not very comforting arm around my shoulders, presenting me to the crowd.

"Do you see this person everybody? C'mon, stand on people's shoulders if you must. It is crucial that you look at her right now. This may be the last face you'll ever see after you go into hiding," The Joker smirked down at me and gave me a really quick once-over, "But look at the bright side! At least she's not some ugly old fat wench with a pinched face and mousy hair and bad breath."

In the crowd, there was actually a woman who fit his description perfectly, and a few others, men and women, that shared those kinds of bad traits.

The Joker laughed at the unfortunately undesirable humans scattered in the crowd, "Yeah, I'm talking about you fatsos. I mean, I would feel like shit if the last face I saw was that of an ugly fat bitch! Wouldn't you?" The joker let out a deep laugh, and the vibrations transferred into my body.

I was kind of blushing, because even though for most, they'd assume that everything the Joker said was a direct insult to their person, it turns out that The Joker wasn't lying.

He genuinely doesn't think me an 'ugly fat bitch,' and to me, that's like him directly calling me beautiful.

The Joker once again clapped his hands together, startling me out of my thoughts and attracting the entire room's attention.

The Joker's eyes scanned the room back and forth. I couldn't help but notice that he still had his arm around my shoulders.

"Hey party people! Looks like we're ready to get on with the show! Good thing I picked this bank! It's so spacious and monotonous, I bet it'll take little Katty Katherine over here hours and hours to find all the seventy-five hostages," The Joker stated with glee.

My mouth dropped open. Seventy-five? I could feel the beginnings of sweat starting to gather on my forehead, the magnitude of the situation finally creeping into my conscious through the thick haze of my dream-like, post-laughing gas state. The lives of all these people rely on my ability to successfully locate them in time.

And out of the seventy-five people in this room aside from me, I can only miss one. And even then I'm not sure if he'll be feeling merciful enough to spare our lives or not. This could all be some elaborate trick for us to let our guards down and totally fuck us over (so to speak) as our backs were turned.

Shit. He could decide to fucking nuke us all at this very second!

Where are the fucking police in this God-forsaken Hell-bound city?

The Joker glanced at a watch that was hidden under his sleeve. He held his chin in the inner curve of his gloved thumb and index finger, as he thought for a moment.

His eyes were closed, and despite my current situation, I still risked a glance at his chiseled face, trying my hardest to be conspicuous.

The Joker's eyes snapped open and his eyes shined brightly with delight. "Ha Ha! I just did a little Men-tal math in my head, and I've decide that since there are about thirty-two rooms in this building, and seventy-five of you, we'll have two or three to a hiding spot. Does that sound peachy to you? Of course it does! Everyone knows that the Joker is well known for his mercy and sense of fairness," The Joker made a disruptive 'Pfft!' sound and once again burst out laughing.

It sounded a little different though, not quite as high, and the tone was off. He was clutching at his stomach, and his eyes were shut tightly. I smiled at him.

The Joker composed himself eventually, and by then, the entire crowd, so riled up by his appearance and statements and overall draining persona, were just awaiting their fates with morbid expressions.

He then turned to me when he had gotten a hold of himself.

"Alright now little Kitty-Kat. Go to that corner over there and count to 200 in Mississippi seconds," The Joker licked his lips and wagged his forefinger at me, "Now remember, don't count too slowly, or else you'll have less time. I'm going to give you 1 hour and thirty minutes to find all thirty-two groups. Okie-dokie?"

The joker didn't give me anytime to answer though, because as soon as he was done speaking, A goon came up behind me, and shoved me in the direction of the corner I was gonna stand in.

I felt him leave once I got there though. And slowly, with a sigh, I began to count.

1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, 4 Mississippi . . .

As my mental counting continued in the same rhythmic pattern and time sequence, I could hear behind me a symphony of scuffling feet, sounds of protest and pleading, and the cry of children being separated from their parents.

Oh My God, of all the humans in the world to choose to have the responsibility of finding people who's lives are in jeopardy, why oh why did it have to be the only one who looses everything ALL. THE. TIME? I thought, beginning to get frustrated.

11 Mississippi, 12 Mississippi, 13 Mississippi, 14 Mississippi . . .

The room was clearing out quickly, and as an after thought, I tried to listen carefully to where the sound was going, as to get a little idea on which way to go when the time comes.

I was a little late though, because seconds later all sound disappeared all together, and when I tried to remember where the sound came from, it sort of interfered with my counting, and so I stopped.

40 Mississippi, 41 Mississippi, 42 Mississippi, 43 Mississippi . . .

Silence greeted me from all sides, the only sound in the room now was that of my own breathing, which came out in short, shallow pants.

Ok. So there are thirty-two rooms in this building, and seventy-five people inhabiting them. That means that there'll be . . .

"God-fucking-damn, Joker," I mumbled under my breath, "Fuck you for making me do math. I HATE Math,"

"Oh, well please excuse me for my rudeness mademoiselle," The Joker said, manifesting behind me.

I Think I might've jumped about three feet into the air.

"Holy Shit!" I exclaimed. I couldn't breathe for a few moments, and I tried to recollect my breath and remember which number I was on while attempting to continue the same pace of counting. 'Too many things at one time,' I thought warily.

75 Mississippi, 76 Mississippi, 77 Mississippi, 78 Mississippi . . .

I tried to not turn around as I felt the Joker circled me, his eyes boring into the back of my skull. I desperately tried my best to not falter when counting, which meant ignoring every feeling that came from my body due to how close the Joker was.

He came up right behind me, so close that I could feel his breathing on the top of my head.

My eyes shot open, when he leaned down to sniff my hair.

"Hmmm..," The Joker sighed, "Freshly shampooed hair. I love it."

'Oh shit,' I exclaimed in my mind. 'Which number was I on again? Oh right'.

101 Mississippi, 102 Mississippi, 103 Mississippi, 104 Mississippi . . .

When he ran his gloved fingers up and down my spine, drawing shivers from my body, that's when I knew. He's trying to throw me off of my counting. He probably wants me to have less time to find all the hostages, thus, giving him better odds for the opportunity to kill us all. I mean, why else would he choose to molest me at probably one of the most crucial moments of my life?

This realization encouraged me to concentrate even harder on my meticulous thoughts. I squeezed my eyes shut and plugged my ears with my fingers.

I just wish that I could do something about my sense of feel.

120 Mississippi, 121 Mississippi, 122 Mississippi, 123 Mississippi . . .

I could feel the Joker notice that I was trying to block him out, having caught on quickly to his initial plan. So he amplified the intensity of his ministrations.

I could feel him pull my hair behind my left ear, and he nuzzled that area with his nose, exhaling air on the nape of my neck.

132 Mississippi, 133 Mississippi, 134 Mississippi, 133 Mississippi . . . wait, no. . . 137 Mississippi . . .

"Katty girl, why are you ignoring me? Don't you wanna play with me?" The Joker whispered into the plugged ear, drawing a low whimper from my mouth.

146 Mississippi, 146 Mississippi, 146 Mississippi . . . Oh Shit, no wait, um . . . 150 Mississippi, 151 Mississippi . . .

I could feel him place his hands on either side of my hips, slowly trailing his fingers up, finding the hem of my shirt, and dragging it up with his fingers as he went, exposing my bare skin.

I seriously considered just saying 'Fuck it,' to being responsible and turning around to jump his bones, but then I remembered all those desperate people who needed me . . .

Dammit! Being responsible is something Roxanne would do! Not me! Why am I here and not she? Sigh.

172 Mississippi, 175 Mississippi, 176- Wait! Oh No! What number was I on? Oh God, Um, now I think . . . 178 Mississippi, 179 Mississippi . . .

I was so close to 200, but as the Joker kept on nuzzling me and touching my bare skin, I was beginning to lose focus! Oh God, I'm going to need all the time I can get! Jesus, I swear to you I'll bake you some holy cookies or something if you help me make it through the day!

196 Mississippi, 197 Mississippi, 198 Mississippi, 199 Mississippi . . .

I snatched my body away from the Joker's prying hands, my body immediately missing his touch. I turned around and ran to the elevators of the Bank that led to the rooms upstairs where I would find the hostages.

Behind me, I could hear the Joker growling in frustration, probably angry that his plan to delay me hadn't worked as he'd hoped.

But I had more important things to think about right now. Like saving these people and getting out of this godforsaken place without setting off this godforsaken bomb strapped to my chest.

I could've sworn that the smiley face shone for a second as I entered the elevator.

It's like the world was moving in slow motion. My thoughts were traveling around in my brain at speeds close to 100 miles per hour. I couldn't stop for one second to grab them and take time to fully analyze it.

It think that this is what happens when people have a panic attack.

Ok, so there are thirty-two rooms in the building, and seventy-five people, then that means that there could be two to a room, and one room would remain.

Something the Joker said earlier while he was explaining the rules of the game came back to me.

"We'll have two or three to a hiding spot . . ." Two or three to a hiding spot? I thought. And then it came to me like someone just slapped me with a chunk of wet catfish.

Some of the rooms will be empty. Oh wow, way to make this difficult Joker.

Ok. So I've got to limit my time to each room to look for people. I can't afford to waste any second on a room with no hostages in it. My brain started to hurt, and as I exited the elevator, even though I knew my time was limited, I slumped down onto the floor from the wall opposite of the elevators.

I've never felt so rushed before in my entire life.

"Please Joker," I whispered, "Give me a hint."

"A hint you say? What's in it for me little Kitty Kat?" the Joker's voice came from my right, which, in turn, made me shriek very loudly and fall off balance.

The Joker gave me a sympathetic look, "Yeah, my stunningly good looks can shock any woman. I just have that effect."

My face was red as I tried to recollect my breath for the second time in not even five minutes.

"Goddam! Can you not fucking scare me shitless at every single opportunity?" I yelled, my hand on my heart and my head beginning to throb.

The joker looked kinda ticked off. "Well then, I could've sworn that some little birdie was asking for my help just a second ago. I obviously must be mistaken. I'll be on my way now," The joker turned to stand up from the floor and leave, but I stopped him with my hand on his chest.

Oh my God I'm touching him!

It took a second for me to calm down though.

"I never . . . said . . . I didn't want your help . . .. It's just," I paused to swallow the saliva building up in my mouth, "Your methods of making your presence known . . . Is questionable . . . at best,"

The Joker chuckled deeply beside me, and shrugged.

"I never said I was perfect babe. Now do you want me or not?" The Joker grinned at me, the paint on his face cracking where he smiled, and before I could answer 'I want you,' I remembered how the Joker likes his . . .. Play on words . . . So to speak.

"I want your help, yes." I replied slowly, testing my words. The Joker guffawed, and slapped my back heartily.

"Oh! What good fun! I like you Kit-Kat. You're smart, and because you're smart I think I'll give you extra hard riddles that are clues to where each little piggy is hiding in this Crack-whore bank." The Joker smiled mockingly at me.

"Does this work out to your benefit little girl?"

I grumbled under my breath. The Joker frowned jokingly.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

I just waved him away.

He grabbed my hand mid-air, and got up real close to my face, his eyes were dark and he was wearing a scowl. "Don't disregard me like some homeless person on the street asking you for money." He growled.

"I want people to answer the questions I ask them. Agreed?" I nodded quickly.

He let me go, and straitened out his purple jacket and green vest. "Now," he began sternly, "I already told you that I'm in a good mood. So I'm going to help you."

I felt a small smile creep up on my lips.

"But."

The smile faded.

"There's a catch." I sighed and rolled my eyes as if to say 'just get on with it.'

The Joker frowned, "Do not take this lightly little Kitty. I'm not an idiot. If I wanna play, you're going to LOSE."

The Joker picked up a lock of my hair between his fingers, and began to twirl it, considering something.

"Every time you ask me for a hint, you've got to answer one question. Honestly," He added as an afterthought, "And no funny business. Trust me. I'll know. Now, before I let you go on your first hint, do we have a deal?"

The Joker's gloved hand appears before me as the representation of me about to make a deal with the devil. On Any other occasion, I would've taken more time to think this through, but really, what other choice do I have?

Tentatively, I stuck out my right hand, and I shook his, slowly, but firmly.

"Deal." I responded wearily.

The Joker grinned, and leaned into me until our noses were almost touching.

"By the way," he added, "You've been on the clock this whole time."

My eyes widened. The Joker smiled, "Now you have and hour and fifteen minutes. Good luck!"

The Joker quickly pushed me, as a way of urging me to move, seeing as how I'm somehow fifteen minutes behind schedule. Asshole! There's no way that little conversation took fifteen minutes!

I turned around one last time to glare at the Joker over my shoulder, but of course, he had already disappeared.

Fury then erupted through my veins when I discovered that he left without even giving me my first hint! That sneaky, slimy, slithery-

Wait. What if he did give me a hint? I searched my thoughts for anything he could have said that would be able to be used as a clue.

C'mon Katherine. Think. What was the last thing he said? The only thing that seemed of any value during our agreement on the floor facing the elevators, was when he shook my hand and pushed me in a certain direction . . .

Oh wow. Really joker? That's it? THAT is what you call a clue?

Really now, I certainly hope his clues won't all be as subtle and light as that one.

Before I could finish my thought, I spun on my heel, and ran in the direction that the Joker had pushed me towards before he disappeared.

The hallway looked as if it would drag on to the ends of the earth. There were only about three floors in this building, and currently, I was on the second. The Bank makes up for it's less that impressive height, by stretching wide, taking up the space of almost two other buildings.

And while it seems like this would make it easier for me to find the hostages, it's really not.

Because there are rooms scattered around the floors, some are located in the department areas, and some are just down the hall. Like the one I'm heading towards right this moment. I know that it doesn't seem very wise for someone to try the first door they see; the closest one, when dealing with a guy like The Joker.

Like, for all I know, that room could be on of the empty ones that are just there to fuck with my mind! In any other case, someone else would be smart, and choose the secluded, hidden rooms, but with me, I'm just like fuck it. I mean, it's right there, I might as well just try it.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I don't wanna walk anymore than I have to or something crazy like that. Laziness? Me? Oh Pfft!

Once I reached the door though, I didn't think that it would be wise for me to just, waltz right on the fuck in there like somebody owes me some money or something.

I mean, I guess I could do that if I were some 250 lbs weight lifting skinhead with the IQ of about twelve. But since I'm not, I think I have the right to be a little cautious.

So there I stood. Chewing on my damn fingernails in fright, of what might await me on the other side of this door. Gathering my courage, I stared at the pasty blue wallpaper and fake potted plants that lined the walls of this hallway.

Finally, using all the reserves of what's left of my courage, I put my hand on the copper doorknob, twisted it, and pushed my way inside of the room.

What I found inside shocked me.

There.

All in ONE FUCKING ROOM.

Were the hostages.

I cannot believe it.

Why in fucking God's NAME, would Joker put everybody, in a cramped storage space? He told me that I had to look in multiple rooms to find them! I was all prepared to go all Mission Impossible on this building and stuff.

I just stood there and rolled my eyes. Typical.

The Hostages in the room weren't in the best shape though, some were tied to each other, others had tape, or some kind of Gag in their mouths, and a few unlucky ones were sporting black eyes.

They all burst into sound when they looked up and saw it was I though.

"Oh calm down you sissy little shits."

I wasn't surprised to hear a voice I was quickly familiarizing myself with appear right beside me, with no hint of warning, or any kind of signal to inform me that he was coming.

The Joker didn't turn towards me, but he spoke to me as he stood on my left side, staring into the rooms of gagged hostages without feeling.

"You're the first one," He said, a hint of astonishment creeping into his voice as continued to speak.

"You know? Because usually, when I get some ignoramus in this kind of situation, they always do the opposite of what I tell them," The Joker turned to face me, creepy smile still in place, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes now.

He tilted his head at me. "You figured out my clue, and you took it. You didn't even hesitate. You . . ." The Joker licked his lips, testing out his words as if they were a foreign concept. "Trust-ed me?"

The Joker looked into my eyes expectantly, as if waiting for an answer, but when I opened my mouth to give him a reply, he interrupted me,

"And the funny thing is. I always do this to people. I always make them do difficult shit. Making them jump through hoops of fire, into pits of ravenous crocodiles, but they never even realize that they could have just walked on over to the finish line,"

I shook my head at him, trying to process what he said.

"Wait," I told him, collecting my thoughts, "So lemme just make sure that we're uh," I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, "Clear. You were about to lead me through a wild goose chase for an HOUR and FIFTEEN MINUTES? When all I had to do was open this fucking door?" My voice was rising a bit, and I bet my face was reddening.

"Now, don't twist up your panties kid. It was all in good fun-"

"IN GOOD FUN! I was about to put EFFORT into something that I DIDN'T want to do! Do you even know how big of a step that is for me?" I was panting now, my face the epitome of anger.

"I-"

The Joker shut me up, by taking my hand, and pulling me in really close.

He leaned his head on my neck, his breath tickling the sensitive skin, all my anger and protests flew out the window at his possessive grip.

"Be careful little Kitty," he breathed, "Watch how you talk to the big, bad, wolf, or he might decide to eat you UP."

Shivers ran through me as his words that held a double meaning rang through my body.

"Hmm," He whispered, "You smell delicious. I almost wanna take you home with me."

My heart was racing faster and faster, and my legs were about to give out. His voice was so depend seductive. Everything about him enticed me to the point of it feeling like a drug.

Before I thought I couldn't take it anymore.

Suddenly he released me, and pushed me roughly backwards into the goons, that had a t some point, appeared behind me.

Quickly, he took off the bomb strapped to my chest with the press of a button, and then he shoved me into yet another goon, who this time, put a black bag over my head.

Panicking, I began to struggle against the grip of the goon, who had begun to drag me in an unknown direction.

Faintly I could hear the Joker's voice, "I'm TERRIBLY sorry Kitty. I really was planning on letting you go after this, but there's that question of mine that I need answering and, well, no hard feelings huh?"

The Joker chuckled.

Then everything went black.

The ride was long and uncomfortable, something was relentlessly jabbing into my side, and every once in a while the goons would make some sexist comment about my body. When they did that I just rolled my eyes and ignored their immaturity.

One tried to touch me towards the end of the ride, but a swift knee to the groin prevented any further groping from them. I guess that nobody wants to deal with a "Pms-ing little bitch," as they were so kind to name me.

I estimated that it was about thirty minutes later when I heard the doors of the van open with a bang. The goons in the van with me picked me up and manhandled me into a room, and dumped me unceremoniously on a large piece of furniture.

They hadn't bothered removing the black bag from my head, luckily for me, they had the sense to put a bunch of tiny holes in the bag, so that I wouldn't die of suffocation or anything, and so I just kind of sat there on a bed or something, without my sense of sight.

I listened intently for anything that might give away a location, so that I could possibly have SOME kind of idea of where the hell I was.

As far as I knew, we didn't go on a any planes, so I'm sure that I'm still in the same country, but the drive felt unusually long, so we might be in a different state.

I sighed. Great.

My thoughts began to drift in the direction of what happened to me today.

'So let's review,' I thought sarcastically, 'What exactly happened today?'

Well I remember waking up.

Eating omelettes and pancakes made by my best friend.

I went to go see that shit-face of an art director, Jeffrey Parkins to have him bitch at me about meeting deadlines.

Then I went to go get something to eat, but I had no money so I went to the bank.

And then I got manipulated by the infamous Joker, who somehow came back from the dead, and decided to kidnap me.

Right. I'd say this day is going considerably well.

I took a moment to wonder about those poor people tied and gagged in that small room.

I hope their okay. I feel kinda bad now that I totally ignored them to talk to the Joker and stuff.

AND STUFF.

I couldn't even begin to describe my feelings on what happened to day with Joker. He was just so . . . touchy, feely. . .

Before I could delve any deeper into the thoughts surrounding the ever-elusive Joker, the devil himself burst through the door.

I knew that it was he, because when the door opened, the entire room went silent and still.

"Lucy! I'm home!" The Joker exclaimed. His footsteps were loud and heavy as he approached me.

"Oh you wouldn't BELIEVE the day I've had, honey. That Fred from accounting still has it in for me. Is dinner almost ready?"

The joker's footsteps kept getting closer and closer, and it didn't seem like he was slowing down. I almost felt as if he was planning on plowing right on into the furniture. When his close proximity reached the point where I could hear his shoes squeaking every time I took a step, his feet squeaked one final time, and suddenly I bounce up in the air as the Joker jumps onto it.

I let out a really girly shriek when I went airborne, and made an 'OMPH' sound when I landed back on the bed.

I could hear the Joker chuckling on my left.

"Oh sweetie, I just wanna collapse I'm so tired, but why. Don't. You. Join. Me. hmmm . . ?" I only felt the Joker's touch for a moment, because suddenly he pulled back, and gave a sharp inhale of breath.

The joker growled, "Who's the GENIUS who decided that it would be okay to put a fucking plastic bag over her head like some deranged animal?" The Joker's deft fingers worked on the string on the back of my neck, and within seconds I could breathe in fresh air once again.

I gasped loudly. Thank goodness that I've been taking shallow breaths this whole time, or I might not have been able to gather enough air for my body.

I couldn't really focus on that though. My mind was trying to wrap itself around the idea of me being the Joker's wife. I couldn't even picture it correctly.

The Joker was on his feet, and he was walking around his goons like a vulture stalking a pile of dead carcasses. He had somehow managed to pull out a knife from his pocket so casually, that they didn't even notice it, until he started playing with it in his hands.

"I'm sure that none of you want to die today," The Joker began, pausing to lick his lips, "But then again, nobody does. And, well, if nobody wants to tell me who is responsible for this unacceptable act of bar-barian-ism . . . Then I guess I'll just start cutting people at random. Now who wants to be first?"

No one raised their hands.

The Joker sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "Well alright then, I guess I'm gonna have to do this the classic way. ." The Joker lifted up his right index finger, "Alright now how does this go? Oh yeah, uh, Eeinie, meenie, miney, moe, I am going to cut your toe. If you holler, I won't let go, Eeinie, meany, miney, moe, I. WANT. YOU."

The Joker's finger stopped at a rather lanky, unattractive goon who had been sweating profusely throughout the entire arrival of the Joker.

He looked guilty.

The Joker held the knife by the tip of the sharp blade, and was positioning his arm like he was going to throw the deadly weapon at his face.

"Hold still now," The Joker ordered, his tongue flicking out at the side of his mouth in mock concentration, "We wouldn't want to hit something vital, now would we?"

The Joker pulled his arm back a fraction, and he was about to toss the knife into the poor goons fa-

"Wait Boss! It wasn't me! It was Tommy! Tommy thought that we should keep the bag on the girl. He's the one who did it! Please don't kill me," The goon begged, his body was shivering with fear, and it looked as if his legs were about to give out at any moment.

The Joker rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and turned to face what I assumed to be 'Tommy.'

"Oh little Tommy-boy. Now, why didn't you speak up for poor Andrew over there?" The Joker tilted his head to the side, and clicked his tongue at Tommy.

The Joker gave Tommy absolutely no warning before he pulled back his arm and threw the knife directly in between Tommy's eyebrows.

Tommy's body crumpled to the floor pathetically, and the Joker took a few steps toward him, bent over, and pulled the knife out of Tommy's head.

The Joker then turned around and threw his knife directly into Andrew's foot.

Andrew screamed in pain and began hopping around, begging and pleading for somebody to help him stop the bleeding.

The Joker grabbed Andrew's face and looked right in his eyes.

"If you snitch on your fellow goons ever again, Next time I'm gonna aim for your dick."

The Joker pushed Andrew violently on the floor, not bothering to remove his knife from the crying man's foot.

"Fucking baby." The Joker mumbled.

That's when the Joker turned around to face me, my mouth dropped open in horror, and my eyes wide.

The Joker turned to face me fully, and grinned.

"Don't think that I forgot about you. There's still the matter of a question that needs answering."

"You-you, just, it, why?" I spluttered out uselessly, I mean, that bag wasn't too bad. Certainly not bad enough for someone to fucking throw a knife in someone's head and stab another person over!

The Joker tsked and wagged a finger at me condescendingly, "Oh Kitty Katty Kathy, You might want to ask me the important questions right now, like for example, what happened to, oh you know, those hostages at that bank or something? Just a suggestion."

I couldn't really process this information in my mind right now, seeing as I had just witness a, you know, HOMICIDE. But I tried nonetheless.

"Wait, yeah, the hostages at the bank. What did you do to them?" I asked biting my lip, dreading what I knew would not be a happy story.

"Well you see Katty-girl, I decided to-"

BEEP BEEP. My eyes widened considerably.

BEEP BEEP.

The joker huffed loudly, annoyed at the sound disrupting him in the middle of his sentence.

Slowly and stiffly, I took my IPhone out of my pocket.

Wow, what great timing you have Roxanne . . .

I answered it.

"Hello?" My voice came out tiny and timid.

"Oh hey Katherine," Said Roxanne, "It's good to know that you're not dead or anything bad like that. I mean, you've only been gone for about," There was a pause, and I assumed that she was checking the time, "14 HOURS."

I laughed nervously, "Oh hey, that long already? Well Roxanne, now's not exactly the BEST time for me to-"

The Joker snatched the phone from my hand, "Um excuse me, if you don't mind too dearly, would you kindly hang the fuck up?"

The Joker looked like he was about to hang up on her himself, when his facial expression changed to that of confusion, and he handed the phone back to me.

"Umm hello?" I asked again.

"So, you wouldn't BELIEVE what just happened, girl. So, I was talking to my best friend right? And then all of the sudden, I hear a voice that sounds awfully similar to the Joker's, and, well, if it hadn't been for you forcing me to watch every single newscast about the Joker everyday for YEARS, I would've assumed that it was a fake," Roxanne clicked her tongue, "But it wasn't. So, uh, care to tell me why the Joker, who's dead by the way, just . . . HAPPENS to be in your presence?"

I sighed exasperatedly, "Really Roxanne, It's a LONG story. I'll tell you later."

"No, you're going to tell me RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. Why are you with Joker? Did he kidnap you?"

"Girl! This is really not the time," I looked over at the Joker, who was currently tapping his fingers on the bed impatiently, his eyes boring into my head, and his body was emitting waves of hardly repressed irritation.

"Babe. Just like, where are you?"

I looked around. "I'm on a bed, in a really big, really nice-looking room," Those were the only things that I knew of my location.

"You're on a BED?" Roxanne exclaimed incredulously, "The JOKER'S bed? Katherine, what do you think you're doing sleeping with the Joker? What if he has diseases or some shit-"?

"Roxanne," I interjected, "I am NOT sleeping with the Joker." I flinched when I realized that the Joker heard what I just said.

The Joker's eyebrows rose up into his hairline, and his face melted into cocky smirk.

Quickly I turned away from him, my face burning with embarrassment.

"Katherine . . . is he going to kill you?" Roxanne asked quietly from the phone.

I felt a little bad for her at that moment, she must be going crazy with trepidation right about now.

"I don't think that he's going to kill me." I stated.

"Girl, just promise me that you'll-"

The Joker finally snapped, his patience worn out, and he snatched the cell phone from my hand once again, and retracted his arm to throw my IPhone into the wall, shattering it.

"Wait! But I-"

"That girl was seriously getting on my nerves. I mean really! Absolutely no manners. Doesn't she know that it's rude to interrupt people?" The Joker looked back at my mutilated phone with dispassion, and looked back at me.

"Don't worry about that piece of shit. I'll get you a new phone," The Joker amended.

I couldn't work up the energy to get indignant about this. After all the hubbub today, I just wanted to go surrender to those fluffy-looking pillows behind me, and sleep for a long, long time.

Just as I was about to lie down, The Joker grabbed me by my shoulder and pulled me to his chest, his face inches from mine.

"Oh, no you don't. I'm not letting you do anything until I. Get. My. Answer. Now," The Joker Licked his lips, "Why aren't you scared of me?"

There was a really long, really tense pause. Nobody dared to breathe. Especially not the goons in the corner of the room, who were trying to wrap up Andrew's foot.

"I . . . can't tell you." My voice came out quivering and squeaky. I was so nervous that I could feel my heart beat in my neck.

I could feel the blood rushing up to my face, as I saw the Joker tilt his head and narrow his eyes at me, both incredulous and annoyed.

"You see. This is exactly what I'm talking about. Because, well, usually, when I get into a girl's personal space, I'm either fucking her, or scaring the shit outta her, and either way, when I ask them questions, they don't. Even. Hes-i-ta-te. To answer me."

The Joker was scrutinizing my face for any signs of trepidation.

He couldn't find any.

Finally, he let go of my body, and climbed off the bed, heading towards the exit.

"I like you Kath-er-rine. I think you'll be a very valuable addition to my team. We could use a gal like you." The Joker said, his back facing me as he walked away.

"Oh," the Joker said when I tried to open my mouth to protest, "And if you even think about refusing me, I think I'll go and visit your wonderful little bestie over in Gotham, and we'll have a nice chat. Capiche?"

The Joker didn't let me answer. He walked outside and slammed the door shut, leaving me alone with about twenty of his goons, a nice comfortable bed to sit on, in a room with no windows.

He didn't tell me what he did with the hostages at the bank.

It was at that moment that I realized that I also hadn't managed to eat lunch today.

The whole reason why I went to the bank in the first place.

I collapsed onto the pillows.

"Fail."