Prologue

She had been sitting here for hours already.

The cops weren't going to get any information from her, no matter how hard they pressed.

They honestly couldn't seem to be able to wrap their mind around how a 12 year old girl could kill someone.

She had to give them some credit, at least, in the fact that they managed to catch her, even if it was with the help of a man prancing around dressed as a giant bat. And they thought she might be the crazy one.

That was one of their many theories about her, anyway. As wrong as it may be.

No, the truth was the fact that she was very much sane and very much aware of what she was doing.

She was an assassin.

Well, "assassin-in-training", anyways.

This had been her first real job, and she had botched it. Not in the fact that she didn't kill the guy; no, he was very dead at the moment. She had, apparently, not been as discreet as her master would have liked, for when she had attempted to contact them, so that she could be provided with the means to make her getaway, well…

The number had been disconnected.

She had managed to stay on the run for a few days, and then the Commissioner called in the Big Bad Bat. He had found her surprisingly quickly. Afterwards, she had managed to put up a good fight, but he had still bested her. It didn't help her chances with the fact that he had almost every advantage over her. She was still in training, after all. Or, at least, she used to be.

Now she was here, at the GCPD, watching all these cops bumbling about; trying to figure out who she was, why she did this, etc. It had been funny for a little while, as she kept messing with them and giving them contradicting stories. Listening to them argue about which one may or may not be true. But now she just found it sad. It was a wonder how they even managed to find out she was the one who killed the guy. Oh yeah, they had Batman's help. Never mind.

Well, they could at least try a little harder to interrogate her. Do the "good-cop, bad-cop" routine. Implement torture tactics. Anything! This was just too boring, too…pathetic.

Which brings her to the Commissioner. Commissioner James Gordon. He had been trying for the past 30 minutes, unsuccessfully, to get her to reveal anything about herself, anything at all. She, instead, opted to taunt him and play mind games. She could tell she was beginning to get to him. A call of his name drew both of their attentions. He gave her a last, withering look before heading outside the interrogation room. She sighed. She wanted to take a nap.

After a few minutes, the Commissioner came back in.

"We're going to stop here for now," Well. Damn. "But don't think that just because you don't tell us anything that you'll get off scot-free. Even being as young as you are. You killed people." She smiled pleasantly at him, just to piss him off. It worked.

"I know." She said, sweetly.

He gives a frustrated sigh, before ordering two other cops to take her back to her cell. She didn't make any trouble. She could have. She had done so several times before. But messing with them had lost much of its appeal. It wasn't fun anymore.

From within her cell, she watched as several cops begin leaving, with the Commissioner at the forefront, leaving only a few cops remaining within the station. Whatever had called them away must have been big.


She had been staring off into space for a while now, when all of a sudden, she heard gun shots from within the building. All of the cops in the room began to reach for their weapons and take some form of cover. A shot was fired from within the room, now. From a point where she couldn't see the responsible party. Damn. A cop went down, shot in the shoulder. The remaining cops immediately began retaliation and a gun fight with the anonymous assailants ensued.

At least this was a change of pace.

Most of the other prisoners cowered in the corner of their cells as the fight wore on. She, on the other hand, was moving frantically about her own cell to try and get some sort of view of the action. Damn these cops for putting her in a cell in the very back.

Eventually, the firing stopped. Footsteps began to make their way towards the cells. From the reactions of the other prisoners, she could only assume that the mystery shooters had won the fight. Some prisoners reached out, begging to be set free. Others cowered in the very backs of their cells, for fear of being killed as well. Finally, as the footsteps came closer to her cell, she was able to see who it was that had the gall to attack the police on their own turf.

She felt her face fall in shock. Clowns. They were clowns. Well, not really clowns. They wore clown masks. Still, it threw her for a loop. She had half-expected it to be her master. Definitely not clowns.

She composed herself as one of the clowns stopped in front of her cell.

"This is her," he barked at the others. With a few nods the rest of them went to go stand guard and keep watch. The clown turned back towards her.

"Our boss ordered us to break you out and bring you to him." She looked at him warily, for a moment. This random group of men in clown masks shoot up the police station, killing all remaining cops within, just to break one 12 year old girl out of jail? They were crazy. Their boss, probably even crazier. She shouldn't really go with them. She should either wait for her master to get her or, if she had truly been abandoned, try and escape, by herself. Of course, an opportunity like this won't come about again. And if she didn't like this "boss" then she could kill him and leave. She decided. Standing up, she gave the clown a wry grin.

"Well, I won't look a gift-horse in the mouth." The clown left for a moment to go fish about the pockets of the dead cops, in search of the cell keys. After several minutes of awkward silence (other than the prisoners still begging to be let out) and nervous anticipation, the clown FINALLY found the keys. He, then, unlocked the door to let her out. Afterwards, he let her out of her handcuffs and then waved for everyone to move out. They all exited the building, quickly, and loaded up in a large, kind of junky van and drove off before the rest of the GCPD came back.


So, here she was. Waiting. Sitting in some room whose main form of decoration was defaced copies of The Gotham Times.

Based on the "edits", she could infer one thing about the man referred to by the "clowns" as "Boss": he had quite the sense of humor.

From Mobsters "fighting for their right to party", to "How to Cook Vishnu the Elephant", she saw that his sense of humor ranged from dark and sardonic, to borderline childish.

She sighed. What had she gotten herself into? What kind of wacko would she be dealing with?

The answer to that question opened the door to the room and moved to stand before her.

Another clown. Although, he wasn't wearing a mask, like the others. He had pale skin and wild green hair. He also wore a lovely Chelsea Smile that was smeared with either red face-paint or lipstick; she couldn't tell. He also had his eyes covered in black make-up, as well.

So, a "scary" clown.

He grinned at her, and spoke.

"You know, you're much smaller than I expected." So this was how it was going to go.

"I'm 12. How much bigger can you expect me to be?"

"Oh, I'm not saying it's a bad thing! I find it hilarious!"

"Why am I here?" She spoke more coldly now. She was not going to sit here and be mocked by a man who wears a purple suit and make-up.

"Aw, don't be mad. Besides…you owe me." He became serious, then.

"Do I?"

"Well, I did break you out of jail."

"Who says I couldn't have gotten out myself? I can kill a man easy enough; breaking out of jail would have been a piece of cake for me."

"Oh really. Then what took you so long? If it's so easy for you, why didn't you make your grand escape earlier?" She didn't answer. She didn't have to. He smiles again.

"To answer your earlier question, well, see, I'm just fascinated by you. I'm watching the news, right? And here's some angel-faced little girl, the perfect image of purity and innocence, going around and taking people out! And then, to see this same little girl have the entire city in a panic as she goes on the run! It's the best thing I'd seen in a while! After you had been caught, I found myself thinking more and more about you and finally, I decided I just had to meet you." He paused for a moment, calming himself down after somehow managing to get riled up, "See, I think you have…potential. With a little, uh, fine tuning here and there, you could be something quite…,"He paused here, trying to find the right word, before he finally settles, "Interesting."

"Interesting?"

"Think of it is as me…taking you under my wing."

"You want me to be your protégé?"

"Somethin' like that, anyway. So," He zeroed in on her then, focusing on her with extreme intensity, "Whaddaya say?" She became apprehensive.

"What if I say "no"?" His face hardens and suddenly she realizes that this man, despite the funny paper edits and the odd fashion sense, was very dangerous. She began to prepare herself for a possible fight.

"That, my dear, would be a very. Bad. Idea." His tone was threatening, and if looks could kill, she'd be dead thrice over. "See, here's the thing. I went through a lot of trouble to get you here. I'm pretty invested at this point, so for you to say "no", well… well, that's just not an option." He ended with a derisive giggle.

She realized, then, that she couldn't win against this man. His mere aura was lethal. It crackled with an energy that made him seem unpredictable and violent. She would be willing to bet money that if she resisted too much, gave him too hard a time, it wouldn't take long for him to lose interest. She'd become a burden, and thus, expendable. And then, he would kill her without a second thought. He was right. For her, "no" wasn't an option.

"Alright. I'm in." He grins.

"Good." He turns to leave, but she stops him with a question that's been irritating her since his goons first told her their reason for their assault on the police station.

"Who are you?" He turns, and stares at her for a moment, then erupts into peals of wild laughter. She jumps, startled. When he finally settles down, he looks at her, incredibly amused by her lack of knowledge.

"You really don't get out much, do ya kid?" He almost starts bubbling up again at the indignant look she gives him, but he manages to barely reign himself in, "I'm The Joker."

Oh.

Oh.

That certainly explains a lot. She had heard tales of the infamous Joker. When she cared to listen to the idle gossip of everyone around. In truth, she hadn't expected to stay in Gotham for long, so had never really cared about what was going on in the city. She had never went out of her way to read or learn about him in any form of media, and so had never really been provided an actual image of what he looked like. This was her first time ever seeing the legendary Joker. The moniker definitely fit the image; that was for sure.

"Uh, what about you, kid?"

"What about me?" He glared, then. A warning that she would have to tone back on the sass, if she wanted to keep living.

"Your. Name. What is it?" She tried her best to keep from showing that he intimidated her. Whether or not it worked, she didn't know.

"My name's Vivian. Nice to meet you."