I do NOT own Batman (or any of the characters associated with the Batman franchise)

... Simply makes you stranger.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it, Dollface?"

I'm dead. Oh. My. God. I'm dead! He killed me, I'm dead!

Wow. That wasn't redundant. Ugh this hurts... Wait, if I'm dead how am I hurting? This is weird.

Man it's dark. Shouldn't there be a light or something I'm supposed to walk into? Hmmm... Ah! Crap, ouch.

Are my eyes even open? Let's see... Ha, punny.

I opened my eyes and squinted at the light filtering in above my head, ears ringing. I was lying on my back. With a little gasp and groan of pain I tried to get myself up on one elbow, but found that I could barely move my left arm. It felt like it might fall off if I did. I coughed a few times, making the dust swirl up around me (and out of my lungs). My shoulder was stiff and unbearably sore. I reached back and felt the dried blood and the small hole where a bullet had pierced it. I vaguely remembered that this pain wasn't as bad as before. Oh, shit... I thought, Maybe I'm just not fully awake yet… If that was the case, I couldn't help but want to stay a little dazed.

"Where the hell am I?" My voice croaked.

I struggled to get up into a sitting position and tried to remember what happened before I got here... wherever here was...

"Ouch! Agh... Damn!" I winced and tried to assess my injuries: Lots of Scratches and bruises, a couple of deeper cuts, the worst of which were on my left thigh and right arm, which, thankfully, were mostly covered. I pressed my hand to the cut on my leg to try and stop what little bleeding there was and tried not to move much. I didn't know whether or not I had a concussion, but there was a huge bump on my head and it felt like my brain was trying to escape my skull. With a sledgehammer.

It hurt to look at the light, and one of my eyes wouldn't open all the way, so I reached up towards it and, "Ah crap..." Swollen? Yes. Black? Most likely.

I tasted blood and felt around my mouth with my tongue. I still had all my teeth, thank God, but I had apparently bitten my cheek pretty hard. I had a split lip, too. I smiled a little, trying not to make it worse, I look like shit that got hit by a train. I thought, But, hey, I'm alive.

My eyes adjusted and I realized that it wasn't as bright as I thought, and that I was surrounded by rubble and debris.

Suddenly, everything flooded back at once; I remembered the night's events with a gruesome vividness

I walked down the dimly lit street, it was late, I really shouldn't have been out in this part Gotham now, but I couldn't have passed up this opportunity.

My name's Cassandra Wells. I work as a forensic scientist. In case you don't know what that is, I bring the bad guys down with the evidence they leave behind at the crime scene and process it in the lab. All that good stuff you see on CSI, only it's real, and not as life-threateningly dramatic. The reality of it, however, is that it's not as easy and quick a process as they make it seem, and my God, the paperwork. Nonetheless, I helped get cases resolved through exploration, leads, and thinking through what made the villains tick or tock, to get to those final, satisfying words, "Case closed." I was a trained professional with a degree in kicking ass. Literally. (But I try not to toot my own horn too much)

The station had recently gotten a tip that there would be some kind of deal tonight, from an anonymous source. The man was was specific as to exactly where and when it was, but not who or what it involved. It was odd but it seemed promising; dangerous and probably a trap, but promising.

We were, surprisingly, a bit short staffed tonight, and, not-so-surprisingly for Gotham, quite busy. We needed somebody to go check it out. So I asked Commissioner Gordon that I go on my own so that everyone else could handle what they needed to. He, in turn, insisted that I go with my cell phone (duh, it never leaves my sight), and a gun. To which I agreed. Honestly I didn't exactly like the idea of shooting at someone. But I didn't have a problem with putting some holes in a target at the shooting range. I was pretty good at it, too. I really didn't think I'd get into that much trouble; my plan was to call him for help when I found the dealers, and hopefully to find out what was going on. I knew that a team would be nearby, so I would just stay hidden and call in for an arrest if my hunch was correct.

I was so deep in thought that I hadn't realized that I stopped walking, so I chugged on ahead, looking around and internally shaking my head at my spacey self. I had to stay focused.

The shadows in the nearby alleys flickered and jumped in menacing ways, causing paranoia begin to surmount control over my thoughts, so I started singing in my head. I loved singing, and just about anything having to do with the arts and the like. It calmed me down and allowed me to let out the urge to do something creatively "inspired".

I was only a block or so away from my destination, the thought of which made me even more jittery. I felt like I was absorbing caffeine from the sidewalk with each step, and I can't really deal with large amounts of caffeine. Eventually I began to whisper to the song. Way to be stupid.

"Well it's a marvelous night for a Moondance,

With the stars up above in your eyes,

A fantabulous night to make romance,

'Neath the cover of October skies,

And all the leaves on the trees are falling,

To the sound of the breezes that blow,

And I'm trying to please to the calling,

Of your heart strings that play soft and low

And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush

And all the soft moonlight seems to hide in your blush—"

"Can I just have one more Moondance with you, my love?" A masculine voice cut me off at the chorus.

Fuck! I jumped at the sudden interruption and looked in the direction of the voice. Not twenty feet away from me a man wearing a suit danced out from an alley hand outstretched towards me as if really asking me to dance. My eyes widened as he waltzed a few steps closer to me in a peculiar, almost insane manner. I couldn't see him very well, he was in the dark, but I wasn't, so I imagined he could see me just fine. I tried to step back out of the spotlight.

On the inside, I was freaking out, but I kept up a calm façade. This guy doesn't know anything about me. To him, I'm not with the police; I'm not carrying a gun; I'm just some chick who's in the wrong place at the wrong time. I squinted at him, "Who are you?" I asked. In retrospect, that was definitely not the question to be asking. While it might be possible that feigning innocence could be a good strategy, why was I acting like a helpless horror movie character?

He started laughing for no discernable reason; a haunting, unreasonably intimidating noise. I remembered it from somewhere, but before I could think on it more I noticed that he closer than I wanted him to be. I stepped back again and he seemed to find this even funnier. The jittery feel the adrenaline starting to work its way into my bloodstream began to override my senses. Silently I hoped he couldn't see how afraid I was.

I remembered the gun tucked into the back of my pants and reached for it slowly, trying to be as inconspicuous as humanly possible; easier now that I wasn't under the street light. He was way too close for comfort now, and my foot twitched backwards in response. By the looks of things, particularly his demeanor, size, and gait, it seemed smarter to flee than to fight. I squeaked slightly as he closed what little distance there was left between us. I had to stand my ground if I wanted to know who this guy was.

He giggled, stifling his laughter, just barely getting out a sentence "What's a pretty little thing like you doing in this side of town, hmm?"

His face, curtained by curly, most likely (you couldn't quite tell for the grunge of it) dirty blonde hair was ghost white with eyes black as pitch, a worn purple suit jacket and matching dress pants covered a green, oddly hexagon patterned vest. But the main thing that I noticed was his mouth, smeared bright red into a terrifyingly unnatural wide smile. The smile.

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped.

"It's not polite to stare." he said menacingly, the laughter dropping from his voice, "Now answer me!"

I couldn't believe it. I was standing on the street in one of the worst parts of town front of the Joker.

SMACK!

I sprawled out onto the asphalt from the stinging backhand, I sucked in a breath and looked away, holding my cheek. He didn't seem to like that.

"Look at me!" he yelled, jerking me back up off the ground by the arms, his eyes full of malice.

"You said not to stare, Dipshit! Make up your damn mind!" I shouted back, glaring up at his make-up covered face. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something back, but instead he chuckled and examined me more closely, narrowing his eyes. I didn't move and tried to keep that headstrong expression on my face. My gaze wandered to his lips; the scars on both sides, and the one that broke the line of his bottom lip, smothered in red. I was just full of mistakes today wasn't I?

A menacingly gleeful grin stretched across his painted mouth. I squirmed, causing him to tighten his already iron grip.

He shoved me up against the brick, "You are a pretty little thing aren't you?"

My breath caught and got faster as he put a dark gloved hand to my face. My eyes frantically zipped around their sockets, searching like a trapped animal for an escape. He squeezed the tops of my arms and I looked back at him, realizing that our noses were practically touching, and his body was almost pressed flush against mine. I could hear my heart pounding in my head and blood rushing in my ears. I saw his jaw set and his mouth scrunch into a frown. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized my features.

I have no idea why I didn't just shoot him; maybe simply because that would've been the smart thing to do. In my defense I must say that I'm a usually pretty smart person, but I can be a bit stubborn and thickheaded every once and a while, take now for instance.

It seemed like an eternity before he broke the silence with a hazardous chuckle. He swung me around from the wall and grabbed my hand and placed his other one behind my shoulder, "Do you dance?" He asked.

Compelled to answer him, since it would likely keep me alive at this point, I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes locked on his. He barked a loud laugh and spun me around. I quickly caught my balance and matched his steps. We swung around in an unnatural fashion with no particular beat in a way that I suppose was dancing, my confusion growing. We went on with our swirling waltz for a little while when he suddenly stopped and held me out from him, searching my face, "You seem a little nervous. Is it the scars?"

I tensed and my eyes widened, Oh shit… I thought; from what I had heard, most people didn't live through the story. He pulled out a knife and held it in front of my nose, his eyes flicking once from me to the silver surface and back. I could see my reflection in the blade, I looked scared half to hell... Oh, right, I was.

"You wanna know how I got 'em?"

Not particularly… I thought, but I didn't say anything, so he went on with his story:

"You see, when I was a kid, I never rea—Oof!"

I cut him off by kicking him where the sun don't shine and jumped backwards, gun loaded and in hand, pointed at his figure, which was doubled over laughing. He looked up at me, still giggling, and I glared back, making sure my weapon was pointed at him at all times as he stood up straight. No more horror movie protagonist for this girl.

"Someone's a little feisty! I like that…" he said. He looked at the gun, and then at me, still smiling, and chuckled a few times. I felt like I was about to heave as I constricted my hand around the grip of the gun, actually holding on for dear life.

He snorted, "Do it."

Okay, I wasn't exactly expecting that. I let my guard down for a moment, baffled, but snapped out of it, pointing the gun at him again, hoping he hadn't noticed, but that was too much of a stretch.

He snickered, "You've never shot someone before have you? I bet that's not even your gun."

"And how the hell would you know?" I spat, trying to hide the fact that he was half right.

"Then do it!" He yelled, taking a few steps forward, holding out his hands to say "hit me".

I stepped back to keep the distance and reached into my back pocket, grabbing my phone. I flipped it open behind my back and dialed the station's number (this is where texting too much can be a good thing). I didn't bother to say anything; Gordon would know that I wouldn't call at all unless I really needed him. I waited a few seconds after I very faintly heard someone on the other end said, "Hey, Cassie. What's up? You alright? Cassie?" And after a pause, something along the lines of "He's on his way."

I hung up and returned the phone to its spot in my butt pocket, moving my free hand to the gun, actually holding it correctly to try and look less like I was bluffing and more like I could actually shoot him, but the Joker still grinned. A chill crawled up my spine, standing the hair on the back of my neck straight up and pricking my scalp with pins and needles. I was next to an alley now, and running sounded awesome. After a moment more of our stare-down, I sprinted into the opening and prayed to God it went all the way through to the next street. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else as my feet pounded the ground, adrenaline pumped through my veins and pushed me harder towards—

A fence?

"No!" I shrieked

I slowed down to a jog until I heard someone—no, multiple someones—running in my direction. I didn't bother to look back and started to climb up the fence. I was almost at the top when I realized that there was barbed wire above me.

Really? I mentally shouted. Now I looked back. Three goons were running down the alley towards me. I no longer cared about the barbed wire and began to climb over it. I tried to jump down but my shirt caught one of the barbs, which made me fall flat on my back and knocked the wind out of me.

I rolled over, gasping for air and coughing, and tried to get up. I scrambled away on my hands and knees for a moment when I heard someone hit the fence and The Joker's laugh, "Look at the little rat scurry away! AHAHAHAHAHAAA!"

I got back up onto my feet and turned to run again.

BANG!

I saw a small plume of dirt rise from the ground out of the corner of my eye. A couple more mini explosions rose up I tripped and fell on my stomach. Leave it to me to be clumsy in a time of dire need.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! I covered my head with my arms. They have a really bad aim, I thought. Too soon.

"Give me that!"

BANG!

"Gaah!" I screamed as the bullet pierced my shoulder.

Have you ever been shot? I hope you never have, and I hope you never will, because it is probably the worst pain I've ever personally felt in my life, and every time you try to move it starts all over. This was worse than breaking my leg in fifth grade. Worse than having my earring ripped out in a fight in eighth. Worse than getting stabbed in the dark, walking home from classes... I could feel blood starting to leak onto my shirt. I tried to get up but fell again when my arm failed to support me, which hurt even more. My attempts to fend off panic as I scooted over towards one of the brick walls of the alley weren't working. I leaned on it to help me up and tried to run again before the inside of my shoulder felt like it had caught on fire. I slowed and screamed again when I heard his laugh. For the first time I was enraged as opposed to fearful, and the grip of the gun in my right hand was no longer tenuous.

"SHUT UP!" I roared. I pulled my gun back up.

One, click.

Two, click.

Three, click.

Four, click.

Five, click.

The Joker stopped laughing for a moment in surprise as we both watched the three other men hit the ground.

My eyes widened. "Oh God…" I staggered back a few steps, my ears ringing. I put my hand over my mouth and nearly dropped the gun beside me. My nose and eyes stung, I could feel the blood rushing to my face and the watering of my eyes.

No.

I wasn't going to cry in front of this sick bastard. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. I wouldn't let him know what I was feeling. I couldn't. I glared at his figure and pointed my gun up at him. I was going to shoot this man and end it all right now.

He laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed at me. I squeezed the trigger and saw his laughter to cut off; watched the surprise on his face and the hand go up to the hole the bullet punched into him; watched him fall to the ground and die there in the dirt and blood. I squeezed the trigger harder and felt the gun go off, felt the reverberation in my hands and travel up my arms. It made my shoulder hurt like hell, but I didn't care. This killed him.

Only it didn't.

The gun clicked once. Empty. I must have miscounted and unloaded the thing. I wished so much for a bullet to spontaneously appear in the clip, but it wouldn't, no matter how intensely I willed it to. I pulled the trigger again and again in my disbelief. There was no way I could let him walk away from this. He should have died. I yelled in anger, a sound raw and shocking to my own ears.

He grinned and said "Now that wasn't so bad, was it, Dollface?"

He turned on his heel and walked away, almost bouncing, humming "Moondance" as he did. I watched him toss a few things into the air. Each one fell with a clunk and I squinted to see what they were. What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat? Well, it came pretty close. I realized what it was just a millisecond too late. I scrambled up to run and got a pretty good distance away before—

BOOM!

Apparently not enough of a good distance. The bombs he dropped packed enough punch that I was knocked down onto my front. I curled up into a ball and got as small as I could. I heard the already dilapidated buildings that I was so miserably stuck between begin to fall around me. Something—a brick probably—hit me in the back of my head and I blacked out.

There wasn't anything left to remember.

Hey, guys!

This is my first fanfiction here, and I'm not going to keep you here too long, but I'd just like to say that feedback is appreciated and I hope you enjoyed it!