Behold, the spawn of my new obsession; The Dark Knight. This is a JokerxRachel fic. Don't like, don't read.

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Enjoy!

Dangerous Addiction

Chapter One

Would You Like To Hear a Story?

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Thursday 12th July, 2007. Gotham Times.

BATMAN SAVES THE DAY AGAIN

Another heroic capture was achieved by Gotham's fabled 'Dark Knight' late last night, as two drug dealers were caught selling their merchandise to innocent passers-by.

The drug dealers, who are being put on trial next month, claimed the drug, a dangerous substance known as Methamphetamine, or more commonly referred to as Crystal Meth, were a mix of sleeping pills and anti-anxiety pills.

Only a few of the people bought the substance, but when police investigators interrogated the dealers, they admitted that the buyers had come back and asked for a refund. The dealers denied, but took the drug back anyway.

Batman arrived before police, and intimidated the dealers, who then handed over all they were carrying illegally out of fear. When police got there, they reported that Batman had vanished, but would like to thank the Caped Crusader for his help in the situation.

The dealers, for personal safety, have not yet had their names disclosed by police.

Roger Peterson.

The man in the shadows scrumpled up the day's newspaper and sauntered over to the nearest bin, tossing the newspaper carelessly onto the floor beside it before returning to his original position; standing in the alleyway. Waiting.

The alleyway was dark, and not the most pleasant of places to meet someone. But this was their arranged place, and so he would wait here. He leaned casually against the wall behind him, which was the back of Gotham's most famous Chinese restaurant, The Bamboo Shoot. There was steam hissing from a pipe somewhere to his right, but he chose to ignore the sound as he put his hands soundlessly into his pockets.

His head was down, and he didn't bother looking up as he heard approaching footsteps, presumably those belonging to the man he was expecting.

This other man wore a mask, a hideously disfigured scarecrow. Beneath the frightful mask was the face of Dr. Jonathon Crane, Gotham's revered psychiatrist. But by night, and to his desperate clients, he was known as simply the Scarecrow.

"So," the man in the shadows growled, "I see the scum took down two of your men last night."

He looked up at Scarecrow, only his eyes visible in the darkness of the alley they were currently standing in.

"You aren't supposed to let this happen, Jonny."

"I told you already," Scarecrow snapped back, "not to call me that. By night, it's Scarecrow."

The other man rolled his eyes and let out a high-pitched giggle, almost as menacing as it was strange. "I'm not like your other clients though, Jonny."

At Scarecrow's attempt to correct him again, the man turned his eyes back on him, two swirling orbs of darkness and intimidation. Scarecrow immediately silenced.

"No. I'm not going to be the one using your…little concoction."

With that, his eyes shifted to the end of the alleyway to the apartment block across the road. He looked up, towards the top of the building and Scarecrow could tell from the way his eyes shifted shape, he was smiling.

"I have more than one with me," Scarecrow admitted, his mask moving, mimicking every word he spoke while its laced up mouth remained in a painful grimace. "They're only fifty dollars each."

The man's eyes lowered again with the speed of a tiger. They narrowed almost as quick.

"No thank you, Scarecrow," he sneered bitterly, "I'll only be needin' the one."

"What do you want with it?" Scarecrow enquired suspiciously.

"I need a chance to have a little chat with our District Attorney's little girlfriend…" he answered, looking away again, "…and I doubt Miss Dawes would think to come quietly with a guy like me."

"What do you mean, 'a guy like you'?"

The man seemed to have been waiting for this moment to come forward and show his face. He took one step forward, and slowly moved out of the shadows. Even from beneath his mask, Scarecrow's gasp was audible. The other man could almost see him flinch.

"A man like me…with a famous Glasgow smile," he finally said, two grins echoing his dark, humoured tone. One was a natural smile, but an underlying smile was grotesque.

His face was painted white, both his eyelids entirely covered in black make-up. His mouth, from his lips all the way to his ears, was painted a bright red.

"Who did that to you?" Scarecrow spluttered out. The man feigned a look of puzzlement. Then suddenly, his eyes lit up in ire, and his face dawned faux understanding.

"Oh, you mean this?" he mocked, gesturing to his disfigured mouth and the horrific scars surrounding it. "That's an interesting story, actually…"

He grinned, pulling a knife from the pocket of his purple coat. Scarecrow backed away a step, but the man shook his head warningly, making Scarecrow freeze in place.

"Would you like to hear it?" he smirked, now standing so close that even a whisper would suffice to be heard over the insistent hissing of the steam behind them.

Without giving Scarecrow another chance to protest, the man ripped off his mask, and in a second, it was gone. The man grabbed Jonathon's cheeks, and raised the knife to his lips, sliding the blade easily into the cavern of his mouth.

Jonathon's eyes were wide in terror, and fear had frozen him stiff. Even if he'd wanted to struggle, he wouldn't have been able to.

"Ya see…" the man started, pressing the side of the blade gently to the corner of Jonathon's mouth, "…my older brother had dreadful anger issues. He'd give Richard Nixon a run for his insane amount of money…"

Jonathon's eyes slowly opened, and the man grimaced.

"…so one night, his girlfriend, afraid she'd get on the wrong side of him…she breaks up with him. He is furious, understandably. He comes home that night drunk, and stoned. He and I shared a room, despite the ten-year age difference. So he storms in, slamming the door on his way. There I am, little over seven years old, sitting on the bottom bunk bed, watching TV. He picks up a knife, and holds it to my face."

At this point, the man twitches the knife slightly, causing a single drop of blood to run down into Jonathon's open mouth.

"I panic. But he yells in my face to shut up, and puts the blade in my mouth. He pauses, but then finally, he laughs. Cold, cruel laughter. And then he asks me why I'm so serious, that I should smile. Then he does this -"

Jonathon's eyes clenched shut in horror as the blade moved slightly. The man laughed.

"- and that's why they call me the Joker! I'm always smiling!"

Joker withdrew the blade from Jonathon's mouth, and pushed him down onto the floor. Jonathon gasped and shook as Joker towered over him, his face suddenly unreadable. He outstretched his hand.

"Give me the drug," he demanded.

Jonathon fumbled around in his pocket, and then held up a single orange pill. Joker snatched it from him with his purple gloved hand.

"Stand up."

Jonathon scrambled to his feet just in time to see a flash of silver raise to his throat.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept this hush-hush, alright? If not…I'll make sure that you are always smiling!"

Joker pushed Jonathon back onto the floor as a few drops of rain started to fall. Letting out a maniacal laugh that chilled blood, he started walking away.

He didn't look back as he headed towards the end of the alley, and the rain got heavier, making the make-up on his face run, almost giving him the effect of his face melting.

He raised his eyes once again to Rachel Dawes' apartment window, where a light soon turned off. His insane giggles stopped.

He bowed his head, keeping both eyes firmly trained on the apartment.

"Till tomorrow, Miss Dawes," he grinned.

Jonathon turned to face Joker, to see what he was doing, but the swish of his purple coat around the corner as he disappeared was the last he saw of him.

Safe in her bed, in her warm cosy apartment, Rachel Dawes slept peacefully. A flash of lightning followed by a loud rumble of thunder shook the world outside, but all Rachel did to acknowledge the storm was turn over in her sleep.

OK, so how was that for an opening? Good? Bad? Great? Dreadful?

Please, please review, it means ever so much :)

Loza xx