"Five...four...three...two...one..."

"Happy new year!"

Screams of laughter and joy filled the bar. Husbands and wives shared passionate, deep embraces, while couples that had just met hours ago kissed and clawed and grabbed at each other's faces as though the world was ending tonight and they were the only two left alive. The confetti, so meticulously placed this afternoon, came streaming down in shocks of gold and silver and blue. Lights flashed, the large televisions showed images of revelers across the globe welcoming the new year, welcoming a chance for change and for hope. Outside, snow floated down from the cloudy skies, enveloping the city in a blanket of white.

Samantha leaned on the polished mahogany of the bar countertop, smiling at the scene before her. There was something about New Years, something about the holiday that brought her back to her childhood in that small town in rural Pennsylvania, that brought memories of friends and family eating good, hearty food and drinking cheap vodka through the night. It made her feel nostalgic for the past and hopeful for the future in the same breath of cautious optimism. She turned from the counter and poured herself a double of Jack, musing over it as partiers continued to revel in the newfound year. Maybe things would be different this time around, she thought. I've almost saved enough between this and the EMT job for medical school, and Micah just started teaching down at the local high school, so we'll have that extra bit of money. She smiled and polished off the whiskey. Yes, she thought, things were looking up.

"Hey, sweetheart," called a man from the counter, snapping his fingers impatiently. "Sweetheart!"

She grimaced and turned. Samantha hated the customers on nights like tonight. The regulars, the every Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday night crowds all knew her name and knew her life. They were like a second family. But these guys who came in during games and holidays were the worst. So entitled and they had no idea how to tip. One dollar on a round of mojitos, my ass, Samantha thought. But she put on her best face and smiled at the man, and at the very drunk woman hanging off his arm.

"What can I get you?" she asked.

"Four shots of Patron," barked the customer, barley looking at her as he grabbed the woman's face for a rather ugly make out session on the bar.

Samantha nodded and turned, happy to have an excuse to ignore the scene in front of her. Pouring four shots with lightening speed, she shoved them toward the man and then nodded at the woman, who was now draped over the bar, nearly passed out.

"Hey buddy, I think she should head out. Want me to call her a cab?" she asked.

The man looked at her like she had four head.

"What the fuck you talking about? She's fine. We're heading home after these shots. Aren't we, babe?"

The man pulled the woman's head off the bar, and it was then that Samantha could see how young she was - far too young to be doing anything with the balding, middle-aged man in front of her. She sighed heavily to herself, not really wanting to get involved with anything tonight. It was now eight hours into her shift, and she was dead tired, not prepared to argue with anybody, and dying to get home to Micah and a celebratory glass of boxed wine. But still, the nearly unresponsive girl couldn't have been anymore than seventeen, and this guy clearly had some sketchy intentions. Time to start off the new year right, she thought. Not even an hour in and she was kicking someone out of the bar.

"Look, pal, why don't you leave her alone. How about you head on home and I'll take care of her." Samantha knew this guy was drunk and rearing to go - she just didn't know how ready until he reached over the bar and slapped her across the face. Gasping and holding her reddening cheek, Samantha was finally able to grab the bouncer's attention from across the bar full of loud and drunk revelers, and Gary was immediately at the man's side.

"I think it's time to go," he said, before physically dragging the screaming man through the partiers and dumping him on the street outside. Samantha could see Gary waiting until the man had walked around the block, cursing and shouting the entire time, before he walked back over to the bar.

"You alright, Sam?" he asked, his deep voice helping to calm her nerves.

She nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Shit like that happens here, you know?" Gary nodded. "Anyways, I'm headed out. Boss said I could leave at 12:30 since I came in early to help set up the decorations. I think Scott and Maria can handle this crowd now."

She stepped out of the bar and threw her apron in the back. Walking around to the front, she gently pried the now passed-out girl from the counter and half-ushered, half-dragged her to the exit. Gary followed, making sure no one bothered her on the way. Sam always liked Gary. When she first started a few years ago, he had scared her shitless with his huge muscles and deep baritone. But the first time a guy gave her any trouble, Gary was on him and had his ass out the door. From that point on, she trusted him implicitly.

"You need me to call a cab?" he asked, his voice shaking her from her thoughts.

"No," she said, shrugging into a heavy jacket and pulling a knit cap over her hair. "But can you call one her?" She nodded toward the girl who was starting to come out of the drunken stupor and muttering something about needing pizza. Gary smiled at her.

"Sure thing, Sam. You get home safe now, ok? And happy new year."

"Happy new year, Gary," she said with a smile, and then she turned out into the night.

It was cold, bitter, Gotham cold that only comes from the depths of the city. Not even midwestern winters could have prepared her for the snow and frigid temperatures of the inner parts of Gotham City. And it wasn't that she necessary liked living here - she would much prefer a farmhouse in a small town - but Gotham University was the best of the best when it came to medical schools, and Gotham General was the premier teaching hospital in the country. If she wanted to start off her career right, she was going to start it here. Of course, she didn't plan on the recession and the big crash that follows, hell, who does plan for a recession? But it meant that med school was out of reach for a few years, and Sam found herself working days as an EMT, thankfully out of Gotham General, and nights at Debris, the bar and club a few blocks from her apartment. And even more thankfully, she thought as she pulled her jacket more tightly around her shoulders, she had found Micah. Sweet, strong, passionate Micah who proposed to her after two wonderful years of dating. Yes, their lives were difficult and at times they struggled to make ends meet, but they were each other's bright spots in the dark days in Gotham. She smiled, thinking of how Micah would be waiting up for her with two glasses of wine and a quiet, celebratory night to welcome the new year.

But her thoughts were shattered as a heavy hand grabbed her arm and violently wrenched her into a nearby alley. She could hardly see, but she could smell the stiff stench of tequila on the man's breath. Immediately, she raised a knee to her attacker's groin and a hand to his nose, but her motions were quickly cut off and she found herself pinned to the brick wall, completely immobilized.

"Fucking bitch," came the man's voice, and Sam's breath caught when she heard it. "You think you can kick me out? Think you can take away my fun?"

Sam closed her eyes and counted to five - and then she screamed. She screamed until she thought her lungs would give out, and then until the man wrenched both of her fists into one hand and covered her mouth with the other. This was it, she thought, as she felt the man nudge closer to her. It happened all of the time in Gotham, but she was always smart, always alert, and she never thought it would happen to her. But she couldn't move and she couldn't scream and she closed her eyes as the fight left her.

Suddenly, the pressure of the man's body was torn away and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath and rubbing her sore wrists. She peered into the darkness, but she could hardly see - but she could hear, and she heard the sounds of a struggle, a short scream, and then a horrible laugh, a laugh that echoed in her ears and left her even more frightened than she had been with the drunken man. Sam urged her legs to move, but she was frozen in place by the war cry of the most feared man in Gotham, by the laugh of the Joker, and by the gaping pits of his eyes as he rose from his kill to stare at her. And then everything went black.