Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Batman or the Joker in any way, or any related franchise.

Chapter 1

A dark figure crept silently along the streets, huddling into an unflattering, black coat that was clearly too big. But the wearer cared for nothing more than its warmth in the cold winter snow, and its invisibility. No one would remember having seen one of the thousands of people wearing an old, black coat in the Narrows. A valuable asset for a thief. Mary scoffed. Such an ignorant term. She preferred to think of herself as a borrower. It was an unavoidable truth that whatever she "stole" would eventually be returned to its original owner, an novel concept in the Narrows, or to someone else who had need of it.

That was the beauty of the black market: giving to those in need. And it existed because of people like her. A rich man's trash was a poor man's treasure, sure, but a rich man's treasure was still a treasure, and there were plenty of other rich men willing to pay through the nose to get it, even if it wasn't technically "for sale." She was the supply, they, and many others, were the demand; the black market was just the middle man, bringing them together and making a tidy profit in the process.

Of course, the mob loved it. They bought everything from antique cars to human organs. Personally, Mary was rather disgusted that there were people willing to con the less fortunate into selling their guts for a few thousand bucks, or just take them by force. But she tried not to let her personal feelings get involved, and was, in fact, good friends with one such "doctor," who allowed people the option of selling their organs. He had a wife and three kids, whom she knew by name. She went up to see them from time to time. Mary had learned throughout her life that people were not always what they appeared on the surface.

Bruce Wayne was a perfect example. Oh, she knew all about his playboy exterior, a man with so much money, he had nowhere else to throw it except random charities. But he was clearly hiding something. That seven year "world tour," was awfully strange, until he came back and suddenly was in total control of Wayne Enterprises? Yeah, she read the financial section, so what? She was quite well-informed, and it didn't add up. Like the fact that, as soon as he comes back, all hell breaks loose.

Batman appears out of nowhere, disrupting the mob and making her job hell. Breaking and entering was a lot more nerve-wracking when some guy in a costume was flying around beating the shit out of criminals. Then this Scarecrow comes along, the loonies burn their house to the ground, and coincidentally, Wayne's house too. No, wait, that was all him, wasn't it? As if that wasn't enough, some crazy-ass weirdo calling himself the Joker decides that Gotham needs just a little more chaos, and him and his good friend C-4 are just the guys for the job. The only good thing that came out of that situation was Batman's little vacation.

Of course, that didn't last long. As soon as the Joker was out of Arkham, there was Gotham, screaming for its mommy again to wipe its ass. But that was months ago. Joker had broken out of Arkham twice more since then, and even broken in once. Between him and Batman, the city was nearly in ruins. Two of the bridges were out of commission, and nobody wanted to use the ferries anymore. Not after that fiasco.

But the worst part was how many times Batman could have put an end to all of it; Joker had given him countless opportunities to kill him, but Batman's stupid rule forced him to let the bastard get away. Every. Damn. Time. Sometimes, he would throw the Joker into Arkham again, where he would stay for a few weeks, resting and having his injuries treated, courtesy of the state. Joker treated the asylum like his own personal vacation home.

Tensions were high throughout the city, and no one felt safe. Honestly? The Joker had already achieved his goal; anarchy was showing its ugly face even among the wealthier citizens, and many people longed for the days before Batman showed up in his stupid costume and brought all the other crazies with him. Simple, clean, organized crime, that was the way to go. Sure, there were a few bodies in the river every week, and maybe some rich bastard got mugged every once in a while, but it wasn't like they couldn't stand to lose a few hundred bucks for a good cause. It was like charity. The Salvation Army was just about as rude anyway.

Sometimes, Mary felt like she was the only sane person in Gotham. Unfortunately, her opinion wasn't exactly very highly valued here. But maybe that was a good thing, because what she was doing right now certainly wasn't very sane. At the very least, it was incredibly stupid. Imagine, stealing from the Joker, the most feared man in Gotham for nearly a year now.

But the market was always demanding feats of ever-increasing risk, and she had to supply, or all by the wayside. So it was that Mary found herself staring up at the old, dingy building rumored to be the Joker's hideout. She wasn't quite sure how to go about this. She wasn't exactly pilfering jewelry. No, there was something bigger than that hidden up in that old eyesore. She'd heard rumors of some kind of advanced weapon system. Something like that would fetch enough cash on the market to pay for a nice vacation in the Bahamas, before she moved some place where the people weren't crazy, like San Francisco. As far from this loony bin as she could go.

This was why Mary was here, in the last place any sane person would go to steal anything. A lot of people had heard about this new weapon, and a lot of people had thought about what they could do with it, but only Mary would actually take the risk. And, to be fair, it was a pretty big risk. No one, including herself, would be surprised if this night ended with her body in the river, a gruesome smile carved into her face.

But Lucky Mary was her nickname on the streets. Well, that and Virgin Mary, and of course Bloody Mary, though that one was undeserved. She had never killed anyone, and certainly she had never been in contact with any large amounts blood. Mary was a name cursed with terrible nicknames, that was for sure.

Mary sighed. Nothing for it, she supposed. She'd better stop trying to give herself a pep talk, which was actually having the opposite effect, and just get it over with. She left her worn coat in a nearby alley, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she dropped it onto the filthy ground. She stuffed her long hair into a black skullcap, and slipped off her boots, replacing them with a pair of light, black running shoes. Black jeans, a black, long-sleeved shirt, and black, fingerless gloves completed her ensemble. It wasn't a catsuit, but it was pretty damn close.

A worn, but clearly expensive lock picking kit was strapped to her right thigh, and a Browning Hi-Power pistol was attached to her left thigh. Finally ready, she headed around to the back of the building, hoping for a back door, or a fire escape of some kind. It was an abandoned apartment building, so she was expecting at least one of those. There was indeed a fire escape, but unfortunately, no door, which she would have preferred.

As she approached the fire escape, Mary noticed her hands were shaking. She hadn't been this nervous before a job in years! She took a deep breath, and leaped for the ladder, just catching the second rung. Muscles straining with effort, she slowly pulled herself up, until she got her feet onto the bottom rung, and made her way up to the second story. She stopped for a second, breathing hard. Yeah, a door would definitely have been easier.

Mary forced herself up and peered into the window. The room inside was dark, and no sound came from within. Good a place as any. The small window was unlocked, and she slid it open, wincing when it squeaked loudly. No one called out to give her away, though, so she carefully slipped inside, landing lightly on the threadbare carpet. The room stank of sweat and cigarettes, and something else that she couldn't identify. It had a faint chemical odor, and reminded her of a certain theater, where she had been recently, for reasons too long to recount. That hadn't ended well...

Suddenly, she knew what it was that smelled so strongly in this room: greasepaint. Her eyes flew to the bed, sitting against the wall. A large shape under the sheets was apparent. It shifted, and she tensed to run, but it merely resettled on the bed. Terrified, but unable to resist, Mary crept over to the bed, trying to see his face. She stopped a few feet away from the head of the bed, and just stared. She had seen his face countless times on the news, but somehow, he seemed so much more human here. His face was relaxed in sleep, and free of any makeup. His scars were gruesome, but they didn't strike the same fear into her as they always had.

He looked like a different person in the dim light from the window, and he was missing his signature suit, which he was never seen without. The sheets were thrown back, revealing his bare chest, and his thighs, which were covered with black sweatpants. The casual setting seemed... wrong for him, like seeing a purple tiger with green stripes suddenly turn orange and black, just like all the other tigers. All his talk of a better class of criminal, and suddenly, he looked just like the rest. He looked... human.

Still, for a regular human, he was pretty hot. His chest and arms were lean, but it was clear that he had a fair chance against someone like Batman in a fair fight. Certainly, he could easily overpower her. That thought sent a thrill of fear through her, and something else, something... darker. Anticipation?

Then, she noticed the knife on the nightstand, and everything besides fear went out the window. She shook herself, remembering that she actually had a job to do here. Cautiously, she backed away from the bed. She found the door, nearly jumping out of her skin when it creaked. But he didn't move, so she continued on, shutting the door softly behind her. The lights were off in his apartment, so she felt her way to the door, trying to find the light switch. Then her shin collided painfully with something hard and plastic.

"Fuck," she muttered, rubbing her bruised leg.

She hobbled across the room, and finally found the light switch. She clicked it on, squinting at the sudden glare from the dim, flickering overhead. She turned around, looking around the room for anything that looked remotely valuable, then did a double take. A large plastic case, about two feet wide and three feet long, and one foot thick, was lying flat in the center of the room. That must have been what she stumbled into a minute ago! It looked like a weapon case, military issue. Could it actually contain some kind of advanced weapon?

She ran over to it and popped it open. Well, it seemed advanced enough for her. It certainly appeared to be some kind of weapon, but it was in several pieces, each encased in foam inside the case. It looked real enough, and even if it wasn't "advanced," it would still fetch a fair sum from any unrespectable gun dealer in the city. With that in mind, Mary decided it would be a good idea to cut out now, before her luck ran out. She clicked the case shut and lifted it experimentally, testing the weight.

She frowned. It was pretty heavy. She could carry it, but there was no way she could get out the fire escape again, even if she dared to go back into the Joker's bedroom. The front door was risky, but it looked like her only option. Quickly, she grabbed the case, opened the door, and made her way out into the hall. She didn't even notice when the door creaked and bumped gently into the wall.

Mary lugged the heavy case downstairs, trying not to let it smack into any of the walls on the way down. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest when she finally made it down to the ground floor. She reached the front door, and felt a thrill of excitement. She was actually stealing from the Joker, and making it out alive! There was probably no one else in Gotham who could say that right now. She took a moment to savor her victory, and stop her hands from shaking so hard that she couldn't hold onto the case.

"What do we have here?"

Mary gasped, dropping the case on the ground with a bang as she spun around. Sure enough, he was there, standing at the foot of the stairs, looking the same as she'd seen him a few minutes ago. Except his hair was acid green, and his expression was a mixture of amusement, anger, and just plain crazy. Everything about his posture screamed danger, and he stalked toward her slowly. One hand held the knife from his nightstand, hanging loosely at his side.

Panicked, she ripped the Browning from its holster, fumbling with the safety and cocking mechanism. A second later, she was pointing it at his chest with shaking hands.

"Ooh, you came prepared," he said, raising one eyebrow, as he stopped a few feet away. "Expecting trouble?"

"Step back," she said harshly, but her voice cracked, revealing her fear, and she knew he could see it. He grinned and licked his lips.

"What are you afraid of, doll?"

"Shut up! Back away!" She managed to steady her voice, and her hands, pointing the gun between his eyes.

"Whatever you say, doll. There's no need to shout." He cackled as he raised his hands up, backing up slowly.

Mary kept the gun trained on him, fumbling around behind her for the doorknob behind her. She twisted the deadbolt and shoved it open, before she grasped the handle of the case, gripping it tightly in her sweaty palm. She continued backing away into the street, pointing the gun at him until the last minute, when she turned and ran off down the street. Hence, the running shoes.

When she was about a hundred feet away, she looked back over her shoulder, only to see him standing in the doorway, looking after her. His expression was intense, and he looked her in the eye. Then he grinned.

A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, may I present, my masterpiece. I finally got up the courage to do a Joker fic, something I've been wanting to do for a while now. I have to say, it is really, really hard to try to get into the mind of the Joker. Hope I'm doing okay so far. :) I know it's perhaps a little boring now, but it should get pretty exciting fast. To the inevitable and obvious question: yes, there will be some Mary/Joker action at some point, and yes, it will probably get graphic. Don't know when, so don't ask. If you'd like to leave a review, I respond to all signed reviews with PMs, so if you've got any questions, suggestions, whatever, you know what to do.

To my faithful readers of Badass in the Blood, don't worry, I haven't abandoned anything. I've still got inspiration, I just don't feel like writing that particular fic right now. Give me a little time to get excited about predators again, and get over this crazy obsession with the Joker. ;)

Until next chapter.