CHAPTER 1

"I'm sorry, of course, you must not be used to compliments." Gesturing toward his face with an upturned palm, she huffed, feeling defensive. Her nice remark wasn't originally even sarcastic, but now she hoped it sounded it…. because the son of a bitch deserved to get his irrepressible ego stepped all over.

"But you probably don't even have the ability to feel flattery or anything remotely pleasant do you?"

"Oh, take my word for it, I'm blushing madly under here." He towered over her, one foot stepping forward. In an instant, the mood changed knowing she had crossed a line. A shudder rippled through her and she felt butterflies in her stomach. The urge to run was overwhelming, but she couldn't move. Her legs felt paralyzed, a tingle in her throat causing her to gulp nervously. As the distance between them lessened, she found the strength to step back just once before she hit the cement wall and her face was then doused in red light from the utility lamp above her. She turned her head to the right and away from him, closing her eyes, ready for a blow or some sort of pain.

"Hmm…" He hummed deeply.

First there was a heavy vibration and then her eyelids lit up and she opened them to see that a train was emerging from the curve at the tunnel. Her eyes widened at this and she looked at him for a moment, glancing around, searching for a depression in the wall to slip into. There was one a few meters to her left. He, however, didn't even blink, a slight grin on his face, daring her to move. What the hell was he going to do, let them both get run over? She started to her left but was halted by his arm shooting out and his fingers wrapping around her neck, holding her back against the wall.

"Let me go!" She shook violently, eyes darting between him and the oncoming train. Her hands were clawing at his arm. He then proceeded to pull her away from the wall by the neck and turn them both so they had switched places, him against the wall and her held out, barely an inch away from the train track. She shrieked, digging her nails into the skin of his wrist where the leather glove ended. He barely seemed to notice, his black eyes cutting deep into hers, with the persistent smirk.

"Wait for it…" He chuckled.

"Oh my god, let me go, you motherfucker!" The terror and anger she felt was indescribable. She screamed at the top of her lungs but the train blasting its horn frantically drowned out her voice.

His painted face lit up as the train light neared, mouth in a wide open yellow grin, face screwed up, but eyes never once letting go of her as he let out a roar of deranged laughter audible even over the horn.


CHAPTER 1

It was unpleasantly humid as the sun was setting on yet another depressing summer Friday in the city of Gotham. It had been hot and rainy the entire week, and before that, a lovely combination of cold and muggy. Even after nine months of the ever-changing weather, Mila still had yet to grow accustomed.

She lay in nothing but her poka-dot panties on her living room couch - eyes closed, sweat beads making her skin glisten before letting loose to roll down parts of her face. It probably wasn't necessarily helping being almost nude but the idea of having clothes on was just appalling. It had to have been ten minutes ago that she plopped down there in frustration. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she opened her eyes and let them rest on various parts of the room.

A table lamp on the stand next to her couch illuminated the room from one corner, casting dramatic shadows which revealed the unevenness of the hastily painted walls. The shadows almost seemed to move in some areas… oh wait. No, that was just another cockroach. She had encountered enough of those here that all she could do was sigh. It's fine. Everything's alright. She would mouth this to herself.

Her attention turned up and upside down from where she lay, toward the kitchen, to glare at that atrocious dark yellow wallpaper with weird, squiggly green lines that looked like clumps of hair. It was truly hideous, but judging by the good condition it was in, it was a recent addition. As was the carpet. Who knew why the landlord decided those two were the only two aspects of the apartment that required renovation before she moved in? She shuddered to imagine how ugly the walls beneath the wallpaper were for pukey green and yellow to be an improvement. On top of being a pest-ridden potato of an apartment, it was on the fifth level of a building that had no central air. A truly winning combination to make for a perfect, amphibious habitat. Countless other problems with regularly clogging drains, thin walls and the rough neighborhood it was located in would be enough to scare off many potential tenants but the one thing that worked for Mila was that this place was very, very cheap for a one-bedroom and even had its own little in-unit laundry room. It was also the first time she had ever lived alone.

Now, the only roommate she tolerated was Elvis - her Russian blue cat. He liked to sleep on the windowsill and dream of air conditioning too, she was sure.

"Kss kss kss kss!" She tapped on the floor next to the couch with her index finger, beckoning Elvis to come near her. To no avail.

"Kss kss kss!" She raised her head to look at him, as he too did the same, giving her a look before curling back up.

"Damn you." Her head dropped back. She let out a deep sigh and sat up slowly. It was 7:39 pm, said the microwave. She forced herself to her feet and walked lazily to the fridge.

"This is what happens when they schedule me for a morning shift." She opened the fridge. "I never know what the hell to do with myself for the rest of the day. Right, Elvis?" She looked over to him. He didn't move. She stood there for a minute enjoying the cold hair from the appliance gently caressing her body.

Her phone vibrated loudly twice against the kitchen counter, signifying a text message. She picked it up and looked.

"Hmm."

It was another blank text message from an unknown number. The first one came earlier in the day, during her shift. It looked like the message was supposed to have an attachment that wouldn't load, missing the normal text bubble. Giving it a quizzical look, she closed it and set it down. Her phone had been dropped so many times that it was probably generating some weird glitch.

Reaching into the fridge, she grabbed the one beer she had left, which was a bottle of Hoegaarden, and one lemon. She went for the drawer to grab a knife to cut the fruit and froze when she heard a rhythmic thumping on the wall which got louder and louder.

"Here we go again." She raised her brows and pursed her lips, grabbing the knife, cutting into the citrus, popping the beer open with the knife handle and squeezing the lemon juice her beer bottle, all just in time for the sweet sound of 'oh, oh, Oh! Yeah! Fuck me HARDer Jimmy!' to fill the air.

"Oh! Oh Elvis, yes! YES!" She mocked her neighbor, smiling to herself, not loud enough for them to hear, especially over the moaning. Loud enough for her cat to turn around with wide eyes as if he understood what she was saying though. She took a sip of beer.

"That piece of shit… you know, I'm pretty sure at this point that he does this on purpose." She shook her head. She was referring to her neighbor Jim, who would violate her with his eyes at every encounter and take any chance he could to make inappropriate comments when they ran into each other in the hallways or, god forbid, the elevator alone. No matter how many times she made it clear that his advances were not welcome, even once telling him she had a knife in her purse, he just laughed it off and acted like she was denying herself what she really wanted.

"What does he think? That I'm gonna hear them having sex and be so aroused that I just have to have some of that? UGH. Like a dick pic in the form of sound." Elvis was a good listener.

This was almost every other night for the past few weeks, after the first time Jim took notice of her. She didn't pay attention to exactly when he moved in next door but she knew it was at least a few months ago, and right up until they met face to face, she hardly ever heard a peep besides the occasional music on loud through the wall. Then, it was like he made it his mission to bring over his girlfriend and fuck her into oblivion, making sure she was screaming at the top of her lungs for Mila to hear.

"Man, I am tired of hearing this song." She said to him.

"And yet, here I am, drinking with you and not going out making music of my own. Why is that?" She took a big swig of her beer, savoring the chill and carbonation stinging at her throat. The moaning continued as the pace of the thumping escalated.

'Yeah! Yeah, oh God, Jimmy, oh you're so big!' The noises appalled her. Not because of the sex itself but it was giving her images that she could live without. Those images would make that douchebag way too satisfied. She then found herself wondering what he had to compensate if it wasn't his penis size. Then again, girls are good liars when they need to be.

"Fuckin' asshole." She took a sip. Her cat suspiciously stared at the wall where the noise was coming from.

"Alright.. That's it. I'm not about to stand around listening to that bastard fucking while I drink here alone in the nude…. for any longer." She took her beer to the shower with her right after blasting a random electronica compilation from youtube to cover up the noise.


When she was done showering, the two love pigeons were, thank christ, also finished.

It was ten minutes from nine by the time she was ready, opting for a black, floral skater dress, some spandex shorts for underneath because it was always windy, and simple black two inch heels. She wore her brunette hair down, but made sure to wear two thin hair ties around her right wrist just in case she needed them. Finally she filled her small leather backpack with a few makeups, a little hairbrush, and her keys. The finishing touch was a small folding knife - the one she warned Jim about.

"Here you go, puddin pop." She smiled at Elvis as she filled his large food bowl to the very top. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone." The smell of cigarettes suddenly assaulted her senses. "Ugh someone is smoking indoors again. How pleasant. Guess I'm getting out of here just in time."

She grabbed her phone/wallet holder and flipped it open, texting a few of her coworkers to see if they were up to anything. They'd most likely be still at work, but the restaurant closed at ten, so it wouldn't be long before they were out. Her plan now was to take the bus somewhere further from The Narrows, where it was significantly safer and more vibrant. She'd have a drink or two at a bar while she waited. If no one would respond… well, she would be on her own. Again. Left to fend off the creeps by herself. Luckily her experience with creeps up close had been limited only to her neighbor. She knew better than to prance around the outdoor area of her residence too often.

As luck would have it, upon exiting the door to her apartment, Jim was standing there, to her left, and it became all too apparent where the nasty stench was coming from. Douchebag was smoking outside his door in the hallway with nothing but some loose pajama pants on. He was even barefoot and the carpet had all sorts of mysterious stains on it. Gross.

"Hey, mamacita." He said, with a crooked smile.

He had a golden tooth and a few tattoos on his neck, chest and arms… and honestly he wasn't that bad looking either. It was clear he went to the gym regularly, but holy fuck did he have a rotten core. He could have it all but he chose to be a piece of shit.

"Look at you, lookin' all sexy just for me. I didn't make you jealous fuckin' my other girl, did I?" He puffed on his cig.

"Seriously, get over yourself." She rolled her eyes as visibly as she could and turned to her right to walk down toward the elevator when she suddenly felt the air shift behind her. She turned to see Jim had stepped up behind her and lifted the back of her dress. Immediately, she spun around and attempted to slap him but he stepped out of the way.

"What the FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU!?" She was seething.

"Aww, don't cover up that nice ass for me next time with those shorts, alright, mami?" He laughed.

Mila saw red and started forward toward him, hands in tight, ready fists.

"Keep your fucking hands off of me, you fucking asshole. I swear to fucking God!"

"Jimmy, what the fuck?!" A female voice sounded from his apartment. "Pinche cabron! Again!?"

Caught red handed. Apparently not the first time. That's right, asshole.

What followed was a series of what she guessed were a lot of rude remarks thrown around in Spanish at one another as she walked down the hallway and pressed the button for the elevator. When it arrived, she pulled back the retro elevator gate and stepped in. The last thing she heard was "Pudrete en el infierno!" as door slammed hard enough to shake the building, and lastly, Jim's voice "Hey fucking bitch, open the fucking door!"

Mila grinned to herself. Asshole got himself locked out of his own place. Sweet sweet karma, you did it again.


She was on the bus already by the time she got a text back from her coworker, Bridgette.

9:16pm B: i gotta close today. where u gonna be

9:16pm M: I think I'm going to Merc's first. They have $2 domestic tonight. Then idk. Text me when you're off.

9:16pm B: k. its soooo hot today

9:17pm M: I know. Oh Jesus I have to tell you what happened with my stalker neighbor right before I left!

9:18pm B: waaat! tell me now

9:18pm M: I'll tell you when we meet.

9:18pm B: come ooon. its so slow here n im bored

9:26pm B: is this ur way of making sure i dont stand you up lol

9:31pm B: fine, i see how it is

At 9:42, Mila sat at the bar, which was slowly filling up with more people. She sipped on a pint glass of bud light. She required nothing fancy when the beers were costing only two bucks. Normally she would chat it up with the bartender but she didn't recognize the one tonight and didn't feel like making any new friends just yet. Instead, she sipped and watched the television which was playing the news with captions.

Now, normally the news wouldn't catch her attention, or rather she wouldn't know what to believe what came flashing on the screen, which was always something about rich people or random violence in Gotham. But from time to time, like in this instance, it was slightly more interesting.

It was about that Joker guy. The man who had single-handedly raised hell in the entire city about 9 months back. At the time, she was living in the suburbs with her family. She had witnessed all of it go down from afar, from over the internet, sometimes GCN, but her favorite source of news had to be late-night talk shows. Naturally, as if the entire idea of the City of Gotham was structured around being a depressing, dark kingdom of sorrow, it was one of the biggest cities in the U.S. in which no late-night talk shows were based. The task of cheering up the Gotham citizens was left to the other cities' and their very limited experience with the subjects to interpret the horrific events that went on, especially when the Joker made his debut.

It was as if they were all patting Gotham on the back and telling her It'll be alright. You just gotta look at the bright side. We have crimes here too. We know how you feel. When in reality, they had absolutely no idea.

She had to hand it to those talk-show hosts though, they had balls. Probably only because they were not in the direct vicinity of Joker's wrath. For someone nicknamed The Joker, he was no laughing matter. Most of the skits on those shows, while delivering news, were very focused on the Batman, who was easy to make fun of, and occasionally inserting mentions of the Joker. Reddit seemed to think it was firstly because making light of this terrorist was offensive and secondly, the guy might develop a grudge against anyone attempting at it and few would be crazy enough to risk being on his naughty list. One of the more taboo jokes that became viral was the idea that Batman and the Joker were romantically involved. There were even a few youtube channels by self-certified livingroom psychologists in which their secret affair was justified because of how they were both insane and fulfilling each other's emotional voids. Needless to say, people were obsessed with them.

Mila found it fascinating too, in her own way. One might ask her why she chose to move to this city so soon after the Joker's attacks. She didn't look at it that way though. Not only had he been captured, finally, but she had also been planning to the city for quite a while. It just so happened that during that terrifying month, so many people moved out of the city that rent prices had dropped drastically. She could have possibly afforded a better place than the one she settled for but she really didn't need to live beyond her means.. She knew she wasn't great with money and the place she signed the lease for was only $300 a was unbeatable..

When she first moved in, the word was that after the Joker was put away, the crime in the city was practically at a standstill for some time. Even with the Batman gone, like the citizens, criminals were not entirely convinced that Joker wasn't around, as he was quite an escape artist, and who really knew with the Batman, who was elusive enough as it was. That was only for a few months, the first few of Mila's lease, when things were quiet and the dust was settling. Enough time had passed though, now, that things were slowly starting to get ugly again. More pedestrians on the sidewalks of the former ghost city… and more random violence and gangs beginning to form or come out of hiding.

The air was changing. Things were getting louder. The city was waking up from a coma.

The captions read:

'MORE THAN HALF A YEAR AGO, THE TERRORIST NICKNAMED 'THE JOKER' WAS SEIZED BY AUTHORITIES AND PLACED INTO THE ELIZABETH ARKHAM ASYLUM FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE. HIS IDENTITY IS THUS FAR STILL DETONATING BOMBS IN GOTHAM NATIONAL BANK AND GOTHAM GENERAL HOSPITAL WITH OVER 18 FATALITIES AND 29 WOUNDED, SOME INCLUDING MEMBERS OF HIS OWN TERRORIST ORGANIZATION, THREATS TO SET OFF BOMBS ON 2 FERRIES, SHOTS FIRED AT CITIZENS AND AUTHORITIES AT THE FUNERAL SERVICE OF THE LATE COMMISSIONER GILLIAN B. LOEB, FATALLY POISONED AS A RESULT OF WHAT IS BELIEVED TO BE THE JOKER'S CRIMINAL SCHEMES.'

Mila watched with fascination. She had followed the events in reference way back when but hearing it all in a few sentences sort of shocked her. That guy was fucking crazy… what makes a person go off and do a series of things so bold and terrible? And how, after capturing, questioning and probably doing all sorts of DNA and fingerprint analyses, did they still not know who this guy was?

Live footage from the attacks and photos of him flashed on the screen including mug shots of him sans the face paint. Whoa. On top of all his crazy, he was a looker.

"Huh!" Mila made a noise like who woulda thunk it? Another guy with dashing looks ruined by a decayed core. Well.. dashing looks besides those scars. She imagined the Joker's reaction at being called a pretty boy for a moment. But the look in his eye was otherworldly. There was no color in his eyes. Maybe it was the photo, but there was something behind them that made her shudder.

'JUDGE JANET SURILLO IS ALSO BELIEVED TO BE A VICTIM, FATALLY BURNED BY A BOMB PLACED AT THE BASE OF HER CAR AND DETONATED BY THE START OF THE ENGINE. VICTIMS WERE NOT LIMITED TO PHYSICAL DAMAGE BUT MANY HAVE REPORTED BEING MENTALLY TRAUMATIZED BY THE EVENTS THAT TOOK PLACE LAST FALL AS THERE HAS BEEN A SIGNIFICANT INCREASE IN VISITS TO SOCIAL WORKERS AND PSYCHOLOGISTS. THE JOKER IS NOW BEING HELD AT ARKHAM UNDER HIGHEST LEVEL SECURITY.'

"What a fucking wackjob. He's probably with that cult… the Isis!" Some guy grumbled to his friends behind her.

"It's just Isis, Charles." Another guy replied with much attitude. Whoa now. "Anyway, the Joker formed his own cult. And as you could see, he was as white as you or me."

"Uh, okay. It's just Joker, Hawk." Hawk? Charles was clearly not amused at being corrected by… Hawk.

Mila still hadn't turned around to look at these people but their conversation sounded rather juvenile for people who were supposed to be of legal age to drink.

"Too bad!" A girl's shrill voice. "He's like.. really pretty!"

Mila almost choked, and spun around in her stool, happy that she wasn't the only one who thought so. "I know, right!?" She raised her hand for a high five and noticed the group who had been conversing were decked out in mega-goth drab. Oh. She thought to herself. The girl who had made the statement was a very... voluptuous one, to put it very lightly, with bright red hair, black lipstick and fishnet stockings, held together just barely by a very tight velvet dress with a plunging neckline. She was like a sluttier, red-haired, overweight Elvira. The girl smiled and returned her with an awkward, flamboyant high five.

"That's the last time I high five anyone. But just 'cause you're like the only person who agrees with me." She said with a wink. "We should break him outta the nut house and become his hot juggalette sex slaves." She giggled.

Mila didn't mean to judge but couldn't help assuming that the girl's tastes were more focused on the shock factor, which included exclaiming her attraction to a creepy terrorist clown. But then again, at least she was open about it. The guy was good looking, she had no doubt that many girls would agree, but that guy also probably wouldn't think twice about murdering a child. She briefly recalled her days in highschool when her and her friends were going through a little goth phase, fascinated by serial killers, looking up info on Charles Manson and such. One of her friends was always joking - maybe joking - about how she would have loved to be a part of the Manson family and have 'rape sex with Charlie!'. Looking back, she shook her head, cringing inwardly, but clearly this girl in front of her was stuck in that phase…. or going through it later in her life than one normally would.

"Amy, you know the guy would probably prefer to fuck you with his knife, right?" Charles said. Hah, Charles. Now she got it. She could barely keep a straight face because he seemed… rather jealous.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Its Amethyst, not Amy. It's fine with me. I don't mind a little blood in my orgasm. So whatd'ya say, pretty?" Amethyst looked at Mila, expectantly. Now it almost seemed like the girl was sizing her up. Trying to get a reaction of some sort.

Mila finished off the last of the beer in her pint glass, her eyebrows raised, unsure of how to respond to the proposal.

"Another one for ya?" A man's voice asked behind her. She turned her head, to see the bartender leaning in with a big toothy grin and worried look in his eyes.

"Yes, please." She turned back to the goth squad for a moment and gave a little wave with her hand to awkwardly dismiss herself from the conversation before spinning on her stool to face the bar again. The bartender filled up another glass while looking at her and the people she was talking to briefly as if to say he was trying to save her from the conversation. Mila nodded subtly as if to thank him.

He set the full glass on a paper coaster, slid it forward to her and leaned in closely.

"Sorry, I couldn't keep listening to them pull you into that."

"I wasn't sure how long I could keep it up, so thank you." She smiled.

"I'm Jeff." He stuck out his hand.

"Mila." She shook it.

"Well, Mila, it's a pleasure. Keep yourself out of trouble."

"I'll be sure to do that. Thanks again." She raised her glass in salute and took a drink.

Her phone lit up and vibrated against her boob. She didn't have pockets and didn't want to keep removing her backpack to access it so she had slipped it underneath her left bra strap where it met the cup. She checked it.

It was another blank text from an unknown number. The third one today.

She looked at the time. 10:03pm. Sigh. Slipping a coaster over her glass, she got up to make her way through people toward the bathroom. As she sat and relieved her bladder, she examined the walls peppered in messages, thoughts of the moment by drunk girls mid-piss.

CRAIG + MANDY FOREVER! #YOLO #HO-MANCE

You are beautiful. UGLY BITCH. KILL YOURSELF

Babies r born without kneecaps?

I am peeing.

Eat more pussy.

Someday you'll find someone who'll never stop making you laugh.

I (heart) POLISH PENIS.

don't look for someone who will solve your problems, look for someone who will face them with you.

She retrieved her keys which contained a small keychain sharpie and wrote: Some ass clown has been sending me blank texts all day. Then she drew a little shrugging gerbil rodent creature next to it with a little question mark next to its head. Not her best work but it was still early in the night.

She got an idea. With her phone camera, she snapped a picture of her little creation. If she got another one of those texts, she would reply with that photo. Sure, could have been a phone glitch, but on the chance that it wasn't, hopefully it ward off whoever was doing it.

After washing her hands and checking herself in the mirror, she exited the restroom to make her way back to her stool. As she approached it, she spotted Bridgette digging for her ID card in her oversized purse at the door for the bouncer. She sat and waited for Bridgette to look up and raised her hand up to grab her attention. She took notice with a huge grin and rushed over.

"Hey!" She went in for a hug, her perfume filling the air instantaneously. She seemed a little out of breath. "I convinced Carlos to close instead and it was so slow, I did my sidework early. Oh my god, I feel so gross, I didn't even change because I wanted to get out of there before he changed his mind!" Bridgette was still in her uniform which was a white button up, vest and tie, undone, and black slacks.

"Come with me. And tell me what happened with your neighbor. The anticipation is killing me." Bridgette said, half sarcastically.

"Fine. But I'm taking my beer with me." She grabbed her glass, the paper coaster falling off the top, to head back to the bathroom with her.