Disclaimer (I'm only doing one, so here): I don't own anything. Character concepts belong to Brian Azzarello, Lee Bermejo and DC Comics. Camden is mine, as are the strippers.

Based characters off of Azzarello's Joker.

/

The party was in full swing. Bass was pounding, drinks were flowing and spilling; there was a girl in every lap. Everyone was either pleasantly drunk of fucked up out of their minds on coke and X.

Jonathan Crane was buzzed and sipping on vodka and Sprite, slouching in one of the club's many plush chairs. Waiting. He would get his turn soon. With him.

He had just skipped Arkham in one of the biggest breakouts in Gotham's history, and this was his party.

A girl passed by carrying a tray of drinks. Jonathan stood and grabbed a couple, thought again and put them back. They were cosmos, he didn't drink fucking cosmos. Instead, Johnny walked to the bar and ordered a couple of whiskeys on the rocks. Then, he went to go find him.

He was in an alcove, cuddling with a couple of strippers who were feeding him cherries and pills. In one hand was an empty beer bottle, in the other was the hair of a girl whose throat he occasionally shoved his tongue down. Johnny coughed. He looked up, blinked, then focused.

"Johnny Crane!" he shouted over the music with a drunken smile. "Want one?" He offered one of the strippers.

"No," Johnny said, holding out one of the whiskeys. "How was Arkham, Joker?"

Joker downed the whiskey then threw his head back a laughed.

"Boring," he said.

Johnny laughed with him in the way that business partners laugh with each other.

"Whadaya want, Johnny Crane?" Joker asked before taking another cherry from one of the strippers.

"I'm here about that job slot you said needed filling," Johnny said, tossing back his drink with a shaking hand. Joker was his pal, his colleague, his go-to man, but he was also mean as hell when he wanted to be. This made Johnny nervous, as it did most people.

Joker let his head loll a moment while he thought. Johnny finished off his drink and started sucking on the ice cubes while he waited.

"Oh, yeah," Joker said after a while. "Driver."

"She's more than that," Johnny said, suddenly proud of himself.

"She?" Joker said, pushing one of the strippers away and sitting up. "I'm no good with shes, Johnny. These-" he waved a hand around at the girls, "-are my shes."

"She's good," Johnny said. "And she does more than drive. She knows people."

"What kind of people, Johnny Crane?" Joker grumbled, suddenly bored with the conversation.

"She knows Eddie Nigma," Johnny said, smiling when Joker raised his eyebrows. "And Croc. She worked with Croc for a while, and she worked as Sal Maroni's wife's bodyguard. She knows people, J."

Joker sighed and let his head loll again, thinking. Johnny sucked on more ice cubes.

"Where's she?" Joker finally said, untangling his fingers from one of the strippers' hair.

"In the back," Johnny said. "The Curtain Room."

Joker stretched and took his damn time getting up. The strippers waved goodbye and started making out with the next guy who walked over. Johnny Crane led Joker through the throbbing dance floor to the other side of the club. There, past all the pool tables and the sweaty teenagers with fake IDs, was the Curtain Room. In front of the Curtain Room was a wall of a man with his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced at the two of them and backed away from the entrance before they were within ten feet of it.

The Curtain Room was a bit quieter than the main floor, but still filled with women and booze and drugs. Johnny stopped for a moment and looked around, then pointed towards the bar, where a very skinny, tatted up boy with a cut up t-shirt was playing with a lighter.

"There she is," Johnny said.

"That's a boy, Johnny Crane," Joker said, more than a little disappointed.

Johnny just smirked and walked through a crowd of lounging drunks and poked the boy's shoulder. Joker followed, if not a bit moodily, and caught of glimpse of the tattoo on the boy's back before he turned around: it was a peacock. Then he looked at the boy's face and frowned again. It was a she.

"Enjoying the party, Camden?" Johnny asked.

Camden put her lighter away and shrugged. "More or less," she said, then she sniffed.

"You smell like sweat and fear, Johnny," she smiled. "S'matter?"

"Yes, well you smell like whiskey and weed," Johnny frowned. "And nothing's the matter."

Camden flashed him a toothy grin and shouted back at the bartender for some drinks. Rum and coke. She handed them out and stared back at Joker, who was squinting at her with his head cocked very slightly to one side.

"Is this about the job?" she asked, not blinking when Joker cocked his head the other way. "'Cause I sure could use one."

"Yes, it is about the job," Johnny said, his hands shaking as he sipped his drink. He felt like he was caught in a stare down between two cougars. He had seen Camden fight. She laughed when she fought, because she was faster than anyone else. She liked watching them fall. He'd also seen Joker fight. It was like watching a mad dog.

"Hm," Camden said. She tore her eyes away from the staring contest and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket. She shook it next to her ear and pulled one out with her lips. She offered the box to them.

Joker frowned and looked at the rest of her tattoos before taking one. One was a yin yang made of a dove and crow on her left forearm and a Dark Mark in the crook of her elbow. On the other arm was a set of Kanji and an enlightened buddha. All that, and the peacock on her back. There were two studs in one ear and three in the other. She had snakebite piercings in her bottom lip. Her eye makeup was dark, now that he could see it; lots of eyeliner and dark purple eyeshadow. Her hair was pixie cut with the bangs swept up from her face and dyed red on the tips. She was wearing a shredded Def Leppard concert t-shirt and skinny jeans tucked into a pair of Dr. Martens boots.

"Emo dyke," Joker growled around his cigarette.

Camden laughed and threw back her drink in one swallow, then she frowned at the two of them. Her lip studs glittered for a moment, then flickered away.

"I didn't come here to be insulted, Johnny," she said, taking a drag from her cigarette. "I've got better things to do and more places to be. That bartender that looks like Brad Pitt is working at the Tipton tonight," she said with a smile. "Croc's hosting something there."

Johnny Crane sighed and swallowed his drink, his hands shaking again. Joker didn't look happy, and when Joker wasn't happy he got bored. Bored meant violent.

"Take us there," Johnny said, grasping at straws. "Take us to meet Killer Croc."

Camden crunched on an ice cube and thought for a moment, her head lolling back and her hand coming up to run through her hair. A stripper danced over and smiled at Joker, who gave her a once-over and turned back to Camden. The stripper pouted and flounced away, blonde tendrils of hair bouncing behind her.

Camden's head rolled back around and she said, "Okay."

She dropped her glass on a table and fished a set of keys from her pocket. She turned on her heel and started toward a backdoor, her earrings glinting when a beam from a strobe light flicked through the curtain. Joker stalked away, leaving Johnny to pull himself together then trot after them. He caught up in the middle of the parking lot and smoothed back his hair.

"She's good at what she does," he sputtered at Joker, who was tonguing the inside of his cheek and playing with a butterfly knife as they walked. "She's not going to disappoint, I promise. You'll like her."

Joker continued to play with the butterfly knife, letting the blade zing in and out of it's case. He flicked it at Johnny, who flinched.

"Johnny Crane," Joker said. "Shut your fucking mouth. You're giving me a fucking migraine."

Johnny nodded, his crystal blue eyes bouncing from the knife to the Joker. The knife flicked away and Joker swept away to follow Camden who had stopped to watch them. She smiled and shook her head at Johnny as she turned and started clicking the unlock button on her keys. A pair of headlights flashed a few cars down. Joker smiled, then frowned, then smiled again. He realized that Camden was one of those people that spent more money on their car than they did their house.

Camden's car was a snow white Dodge Challenger with black racing stripes and an electric blue interior. There was an eight ball in place of a regular gear shift and a little pine tree on the review mirror. It had suicide doors and a sunroof. It was completely spotless. It was a wonderful waste of money. He liked it.

He slid into the passenger seat and looked in the back as Johnny slipped in. There was a Dan Brown novel on the seat.

"For when I have to wait for getaways," Camden said with a smirk. "Bank robberies can take for-fucking-ever."

Joker grinned. Johnny grinned, too, his knotted gut suddenly flooding with relief. Oh please God let this go well.

Camden turned the car on and tested the gas, biting her lip a little too lusciously and smiling.

"Did you miss me, baby?" she whispered to the car. "Oh, hush, hush. I'm here now."

She shifted into drive and peeled out of the parking lot, sending Johnny and Joker out of their seats and almost onto the floor. Joker laughed. Johnny fastened his seatbelt.

"This is your captain speaking," Camden said. "Please make sure that your seatbelts are securely fastened and that your seat-backs and tray-tables are in their upright and locked positions as we prepare for takeoff. That means you, giggles."

She turned on the radio, and it started pounding out Nirvana. She swerved through traffic as they made their way to the opposite end of town. Johnny wished he had his mask. He struck up some conversation, shouting over Kurt Cobain.

"Aren't you having some more ink done, Cam?" he shouted.

"Yeah," Camden shouted back. "It's almost done. It just needs some shading and detailing, then my pretty peacock is all done and ready for me to show off.

"I've been working on this thing for three months," she said to Joker, turning herself toward him as they rushed over the freeway. "It's huge! It almost covers my whole back!"

Johnny started panicking and shouted, "Camden! Camden! Car! Car!"

Camden glanced at the road and pulled out of oncoming traffic, then turned back to Joker. He was laughing, mostly at Johnny who was on the verge of pissing himself.

"Even if this whole job thing doesn't work out with you, I still want you to see it," she shouted over Rape Me. "I think you'll like it. You have any ink?"

"Camden! Traffic!" Johnny Crane shouted from the backseat.

Camden pulled back into her lane.

"It's on my back," Joker yelled in between laughing fits.

"It's not a tramp-stamp is it?" Camden asked. "Because I can so see you with a tramp-stamp."

Joker threw back his head and screamed with laughter. Camden grinned and looked back at Johnny (still about to piss himself) before focusing on the road again. She started screaming along with the song and spinning the wheel to tear past other honking cars.

A trip that usually took twenty minutes took only ten, and soon they were pulling gently into the parking lot of the Tipton, called the Tipsy by local patrons. Having once been a resectable facility, the Tipton held many of the luxuries of a gentlemen's club: a fully stocked wine cellar, cigar humidifier, pool tables, private rooms for consorting with the local wenches and an inn upstairs. First established in the late 1800s, the Tipton had since become, essentially, a fancy strip joint. The wine cellar had been restocked with crates of beer and whiskey; the humidifier was used for storing weed and the like. The pool tables, private rooms and inn were still used for their original purpose.

Johnny stumbled out of the car looking pale. Camden and Joker stepped out and started walking to the front door. Johnny tripped after them and caught up.

"I always get car sick riding with you, Cam," he said.

"The ride wasn't for you, Johnny," Camden said quietly, her steel grey eyes flicking between him and Joker. Johnny nodded. Camden smiled and patted his shoulder as they entered.

The first thing that hit them was a wall of smoke and the reek of booze and cheap weed. Johnny cleared his throat and loosened his tie. Joker looked around, his shoulders tensing and relaxing. Then he smiled, slowly. His eyes fell on a figure in the middle of the room.

"That's him," he said to Camden who, at that moment, was wagging her fingers at the bartender (who was making kissy faces at her).

"Yeah," she said once she registered that he was speaking to her.

A girl wearing nothing but a thong and tape over her nipples walked by with a tray of drinks. Camden took one and drained it, then pitched it across the room where it hit Croc on the back of the head and shattered. He stood, setting down the two girls he had been carrying around the room. Joker ran his tongue over the scars on the edges of him mouth, ready to run. And for good reason.

Killer Croc was nearing eight feet tall and seemed to be made of nothing but thick ropes of muscle and dark, scaly skin. He had gages in his ears and gold rings on his fingers. He wasn't wearing a shirt, probably because he couldn't find one that fit him. He didn't wear shoes, either, but there was no need; the soles of his feet were thick with the same scaly skin that covered him from top to bottom. He was growling, lips pulled back from his sharpened teeth.

"Holy shit," Joker said.

Camden smiled and sauntered forward, speaking with an Australian accent. "Croiky! Look at the size o' that Croc!"

Croc's growling ceased and a grotesquely toothy grin spread across his scaly face.

"Camden, you bitch!" he shouted. If it was possible for a man to sound like a cave, Croc was that man. His voice did not simply rumble, it had depth like a pit. He started laughing. The windows rattled in their frames and glasses shoot on the bar.

Camden laughed when Croc stepped over (not onto the cushions and over the back, but completely over) a couch and crossed the room in a step and half.

He hoisted her off the floor and hugged her. Joker heard her back pop. Johnny held his breath. Croc held Camden at arm's length. He was almost three feet taller than she was.

"Whatchu doin' here, girl?" he asked, his teeth gleaming next to the light.

Camden drummed her fingers against one of his hands and cupped her chin in one of her hands, resting her elbow on his wrist.

"A job interview, mostly."

"You need a job, girl?" Croc said. "'Cause I getchu a job. I got lotsa jobs fo' you."

"Nope," Camden said, jabbing her thumb back at Joker. "S'for 'im."

Croc looked down. Joker looked up and laughed; he wasn't used to looking up at people. Unless they were hanging.

"You don' need to work for him, baby," Croc said. "I got jobs fo' you. You need one, I got it."

"I'm good, Croc baby," Camden said, leaning back in his monsterous grip. "I'll let you know, though."

Croc sniffed and said, "You've been at that place in the Narrows. I smell bad perfume. And whiskey."

"And, boy, could I use some more of that stuff," Camden smiled.

/

Camden and Croc were chatting up a storm in the lounge. Croc's lap was a host to three almost naked women. Camden was sipping another rum and coke. Joker and Johnny were at the bar. Johnny had settled down considerably since their arrival.

"So," he said, leaning back against the bar and taking a gulp from a green bottle. "What do you think? About Cam?"

Joker sucked on his cheek and swirled around the contents of his drink (Vodka and orange juice). He started nodding slowly. Johnny smiled until his face hurt.

"I like her," Joker finally said. "Then again, I'm drunk as fuck, so my judegement's just a bit impaired, Johnny Crane."

"I can take you to watch her fight," Johnny said, adding on as much reassurance as he could manage. "Tomorrow. Maybe. If she's not too hung over."

Joker laughed. A few heads turned, Camden's included. She turned back to Croc and said something that made him laugh, his big greenish chest heaving.

"How's she fight?" Joker asked, finishing off his drink and having it refilled.

"Like a jumping spider," Johnny said. "She's fast, and she knows how to keep people down. Restraints and stuff-"

"Kinky," Joker grinned.

Johnny laughed and went on, "I saw her take down a 250 pound man, dislocate his shoulder, break his nose and three ribs. Granted, she had a broom handle, but it was still impressive to watch."

Joker looked up at Camden, who was sauntering toward the bar.

"You guys got any smokes?" she asked, setting her glass on the bar.

"Will you fight for us tomorrow?" Johnny asked.

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours," Camden mumbled as her glass was refilled. The Brad Pitt-bartender winked at her. She winked back. "God damn, I want one of those."

"No, I don't have any cigarettes," Johnny said.

Camden looked at Joker, who shook his head. She sighed and sat down on a bar stool.

"Fighting?" Johnny prompted.

"What time?" Camden said into her glass.

"Noon-ish?" Johnny said.

"Where?"

"That place you work out at."

"Fine."

Camden walked away.

"Can you be up by noon?" Johnny asked.

Joker sighed and said, "Maybe."

/

Camden is not based off of any other character, for those of you who have read Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I created her before reading Stieg Larsson's trilogy and laughed at the similarities in appearance. She is completely original, as is the story.