Hey guys this is a new story I am writing because I just can't get the idea out of my head. It takes place in the Nolan Dark Knight world, with Heath Joker and an OC. Hope you enjoy! Please leave feedback and follow and favorite and all that jazz!

...

Lights spun in the air as music thumped through every nook and cranny in the building. When people first walked up to the dark black warehouse with bass trembling the leaves off the trees that maybe it was a club or a rave that invading the district for one night but for many locals in Gotham they knew exactly what they were walking into. Women would come in 70s style gear, wearing high waisted shorts and petite white t shirts, their hair teased into the perfect Farah waves. While men would often wear either bell bottoms or normal skinny jeans and t shirts that had some sort of 70's or 80's logos for trends of an ancient time. Some were what the owner called "Party Poopers" wearing normal comfy clothes but who could blame them.

When the large black doors were opened, it revealed a large roller rink inside, it's shiny wooden floor of the rink glistening as the lights hit it and old school disco played over the speakers at ridiculous volumes but no one seemed to care as the mad laps around the rink in vintage roller skates. No blades allowed. Around the edges was a guy with a cart selling pizzas and soda for a dollar each, because the name he was making for his local shop was worth more than the pizza slices themselves and on the other side was the woman you paid to get skates, entry cost only 8 dollars a person, with the option to pay a dollar more for unlimited beer from local breweries within Gotham itself.

The woman, while some wouldn't describe her as warm and welcoming, was the owner of the rink. She had long dark red hair that was up in a high ponytail, and a slender body save for her strong legs. She did work in a roller rink after all. She'd great in the typical manner of sticking out her hand to new comers to accept money and leaning in close to hear everyone's shoe size before waving them off with a bored expression. She often popped her gum in response to complaints she got from her customers on her attitude and give a gaze through frighteningly bright crystal blue eyes and sent them running. Some complained that the music was "lame" or "stupid" and her response is to turn it up even louder to drown out anymore talking, period.

Most who came in every night would sit on the counter where she gave out the shoes and chit chat with her and would find is a funny and pleasant woman with a dry wit. She had to act this way because she was considered not only the owner and shoe jockey, but also the bouncer for this rink. On those nights where the beer flowed too freely and rough housing began on the rink, you could see the woman skate her way out to the floor. Most took double takes and scattered immediately, mostly her regulars who knew her better but also some people who saw the large Louisville Slugger over her shoulder, her gum popping boredly as skated up to the fighting pair who immediately looked up and separated. The red haired woman would point at both people with the bat and shake her head and they'd quickly nod in understanding before going on their way and the woman would skate back to her box of solitude.

Once a month instead of its normal 70s theme, the roller rink took on an 80's theme and the people would come in dressed up in bright neon or as punks. Some new faces even rocked a Flock of Seagulls hair do, which she couldn't begin to guess how they achieved but she appreciated the effort and commitment all the same. The woman behind the counter had her hair in a ponytail Mohawk style and instead of her shorts and white t shirt, she wore leather skin tight pants and a Ramones t shirt on and her personal all black roller skates on her feet as she took everyone's money and dealt out skates and beer and stayed relatively busy at first but as usual she began to slow down as all the people who were coming were already there. The 80's music was a much needed change of pace as she kicked up her feet on the counter top and looked through her phone as some classic rock rang through the speakers but the rink went crazy as the song went on over the speakers before the excited yells turned into screams. Her eyes traveled to the floor where she saw a crowd of her patrons were standing up against the wall as men who had guns were pointed at them. The music kept thumping as she lowered her legs slowly as the pizza guy dipped for the back door on his side and she ducked under the counter quickly. She saw her bat under the counter but pushed it out of the way and grabbed the shot gun that was already loaded that rested right behind it. She heard someone knock on the counter above her and she stood up with the gun aimed straight ahead of her, crystal gaze blazing with fire as she looked at the man in front of her.

His face was marked with scars but none so predominant as the one deeply gashed across both cheeks meeting at the corners of either side of his lips. His hair was a mess of greasy fading green curls and eyes a dark brown eyes. His face was done up in a disgusting oil or grease make up that didn't even fill in all the greases. He looked at the gun in her hands and her angry look on her face. His tongue ran over the inside of his cheek, making the scar on his that side stick out more which made the woman's eyebrows furrow in disgust but the gun didn't move from the man's face. A look of innocence passed his face but he seemed unfazed by her gun.

"I just needed a-huh, size eleven please," he stated loudly over the music and her eyebrows furrowed even more as her mouth opened and answered him.

"What?"

"A size 11 should be good. Maybe a 10 1/2. Do you have half sizes?"

"Get out of here," she stated, her voice like venom but he shook his head, greasy curls shaking at the sides of his face before he lifted a hand to slick them out of his face.

"I just need some skates to, uh, go out on the rink and find someone," he leaned over the counter so that the gun was only an inch from the top of his head.

She didn't lower the weapon however, only remained completely still as she thought of exactly how to handle this situation. Her eyes quickly shot over to the rink and saw that the men with guns on her patrons made them sit down on the rink, all aligned along the wall. Some were crying to be let go and others only did as the men asked. Her eyes raised back to the man again, before speaking to him.

"Who are you looking for?"

"A young lady by the name Missy Valentine," he answered truthfully and her eyes flashed gently before lowering the weapon only slightly.

"She's the owner. She's not here tonight," she lied carefully, her blue eyes not leaving his face. He shook his head.

"No we know she is here every night, we just don't know what she, uh, looks like," he stated back to her, "Size 11 please," he repeated and she sighed turned to grab the skates and when she turned back to see two of the man's goons pointing their own guns at her. She threw the skates on the counter top and her own gun as well before raising her hands. "Go out with the rest of them," he ordered bluntly and she hopped over the counter and did so obediently, skating her way over but the other back door slamming open distracted her as she saw her pizza guy thrown back into the rink and she shook her head as he was lead to the rink and walked past her.

"Chicken Shit," she hissed as he past her and he looked at her with a sneer before being pushed to sit on the floor with everyone else and she skated inside, making a circle around to talk to all her regulars with gentle but firm tones to relax and stay clam. Keep their heads and everyone should be fine. Before rolling herself to one of the barrier walls and sitting on top of it with her arms crossed over her chest. She turned her head to watch the man with the scars put on his skates and make his way over to the floor. One of the goons tried to make her sit on the floor like everyone else but she only spat at him. When he raised his hand to react to her in anger the man with scars pushed him back. A purple gloved hand pointed at the other man before waving him away. The woman began taking the pony tail out of her hair before shaking her tresses free and they fell down in a thick water fall of red as the man with scars came to lean next to her on the wall.

"So, who are youuuu?" He asked curiously as the goons began to circle the crowd asking for wallets to begin checking for IDs. Looking for Missy Valentine. The woman looked at the man with fiery eyes.

"Get blown, freak," she hissed viciously and the man took in a breath of air as if impressed.

"Oh, I like a girl who's fiesty," he cooed before putting his hand out, and she got what he was asking for.

"My wallet is in my purse in the back," she stated honestly, "If you go back there, grab my cigarettes I have a feeling it's gonna be a long night," she added with a smirk, "Seeing as Missy isn't here. My name is Rizzo," she added at the end.

"Like from Grease," he stated more than asked. He pushed himself off the wall and walked to her counter, hopping over to grab her things. She saw the contents of her purse get dumped on the counter and her wallet was grabbed before a second hand grabbed the pack of cigarettes and her lighter as well. The freak came hopping back over the wall of her counter before rolling back to her, opening her wallet to see her driver's license inside. Her blue eyes lowered quietly as he looked at her name on the plastic before he rolled all the way back to the wall she was sitting on.

"Your name really is Rizzo? Rizzo, uh, Reyes," he asked coolly before throwing her wallet in the pile with everyone else's. She shrugged coolly, heart pounding almost out of her chest before motioning to the pack of cigarettes in his hand and he handed them to her. She thanked god she thought of changing her name when she separated from her father and his business. She never liked the name Missy or Valentine anyway.

As the goons finished their search, the Freak skated his way to the pile of wallets and began taking the money out of each and pocketing it all. Rizzo slide off the wall to skate over to him, looking at the money being taken from each wallet before crossing her arms again. "I told you she isn't here. She'll be here tomorrow when we open though. She just didn't feel good today so she stayed home," she explained, her eyes raising to look at him and saw that he had been looking at her the whole time, head tilted to the side as if studying her.

"Well I have her address so I'll just, uh, go find her at home," he cooed gently, throwing the last wallet to the ground and skating off the rink, his goons following him as they went. Rizzo looked off after them with a clenched jaw before seeing them all exit with the door giving on final slam as they were all gone. Rizzo exhaled loudly as the people there all did the same as fear had completely overtook them and now they all fell weakly together.

Rizzo picked up her wallet from the pile, opening the front to see that her drivers license, with her address on it, had been taken from it. She bite her lip before throwing her wallet down in anger as the pizza guy called the police behind her.