This little plotline has been eating away at me for a while now, and to be honest I just had to start it. :D Not sure if it'll go anywhere, that's all up to you readers, butttttttttt I hope you enjoy it.

*set at the beginning of The Dark Knight

*I'll be mainly taking from Heath Ledger's Joker for my writing, so I hope I do him justice. The man had a bright future in front of him; his acting in The Dark Knight was truly brilliant.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker, the Dark Knight, or any of the Batman franchise. I own my main character Sera, and a select few OC characters that go along with her.

All that being said, thank you all for making it through this Author's Note. I hope you enjoy the story.

Mercedes Blue: Prologue

It's been a long day.

In retrospect, it shouldn't have seemed as long as it did. I stayed at home more than usual so shouldn't I feel rested, relaxed? Instead, I'm jittery. My fingers tap anxiously at the steering wheel as I wait for the light to turn green. I can feel my head aching from a headache that's been haunting me for the last three hours.

Couldn't Alex have waited a few more weeks to call in that favor? Today was the first day off I've had in a month, and I had planned to spend it mellowing out. Instead, I was called in at nine a.m. after being reminded of 'that one time' when he had done the same for me.

I release a long, frustrated sigh and take my foot off the brake. The guy in front of me is so freaking slow. The light will turn red again before we're actually moving. Can't he see that the speed limit is thirty-five? Asshole.

I would tap my horn, but my car is already too loud. The volume of my stereo probably sounds like a jet engine to the streetwalkers outside. I turn it off quickly, and groan. Note to self – no fast movements.

It should be illegal to drive with a migraine. It's like driving tired, angry, and drunk all at once. I can't wait to get home, throw in a bath bomb, and spend my night singing with Shania Twain. My eyes drift to the paycheck on my dashboard.

One more stop, then I'm home free. "Speed the hell up, would you?" I mutter to the brand new blue Mercedes in front of me.

The guy driving it is probably some middle aged business man that owns a second, illegal business behind closed doors. His wife probably knows about it, just like she knows where he goes off at midnight on Wednesdays, and Fridays, but she never says anything about it. She probably doesn't want to upset their kids. In my mind, there's three, and one of them has a serious case of teenage angst. Plot twist, she knows.

"I should have left the radio on." I groan, trying to shake myself out of my thoughts. Like clockwork, my phone rings. I check the caller ID – it's Sean. He's not a close friend, but we work together. "Hello?"

"Hey Sera!"

"What's up?"

"Alex wants to know if you're coming over for dinner. He ordered takeout," he paused, and I assume he's listening to the voice shrieking in the background, "Liz wants me to tell you that you like them." I roll my eyes. Alex and Liz are the self-elected 'fun' experts in our group. They're responsible for out of work get-togethers.

I make a right turn and drive up to the next red light. I'm stranded behind three cars, "I'll be over in a few. I have to run by the bank first, but it shouldn't take long." The building towers above my car, imposing as all hell, and the sight chills me a little. I shake it off as an after effect of a day too long. I need to unwind, it's a good thing Alex-

"What, are you crazy? You can't go to the bank right now."

I snort, my eyes scanning the parking lot. I haven't turned into it yet, but I feel like I should browse. Surprisingly, the lot isn't busy. I would normally have to fight with the Mercedes for a spot, but it shouldn't be an issue today. Things are looking up, "Why not?"

"Where are you – holy shit Sera, please tell me you aren't there!" Sean sounds worried, and that scares me. I feel the hairs on my arms raise as faraway police sirens sound in my ears. I had just turned into the parking lot.

"So what if I am? Sean what the actual-"

SLAM. A bright yellow school bus pulls out in front of me, tea boning the blue Mercedes in the process. The little car looked like a toy as it skidded into the back of two cars two rows away.

The bus keeps going, and slams into its side again. With nowhere to go the car's side crumbles in on itself. I can almost hear it shift out of reverse and the driver nail the gas to turn… but that's in my head.

In reality, my hand is pressed down on my car horn, and it has been ever since the first slam. I remove it, but there's a ringing in my ears that won't go away anytime soon.

I shake as I open my car door, I can hear Sean yelling my name in the phone, but it sounds like an echo of a whisper. I run to the Mercedes. There's smoke everywhere.

I can barely see through the window, but I can make out a woman's figure. Her long hair, her trench coat, her child screaming bloody murder. I grip the door handle and pull, but it doesn't budge. I pull harder, and harder, and harder until my hands are red and my muscles ache.

Police sirens are loud in my ears, and I'm screaming, because all I can think is that I can barely breathe and she's inside the car and there's a baby in the backseat and oh God…

She's dead isn't she?

When the professionals arrive on scene, the baby isn't crying anymore. They swaddle me in blankets and carry me off on a stretcher, as though I was a part of this… this atrocity.

I see them wrench the doors open, carefully take Mercedes Blue out and put her on a stretcher. They cover her with a white sheet. They cover the baby as well.

… The fun thing about creating stories about strangers, is most of the time I never have the chance to learn that I'm wrong. Most of the time, I get to wallow in my ignorance.

Not this time.

Four hours in the hospital pass slowly. I'm told I'll be spending the night to give the shock a chance to wear off. I'm not in shock – I wish I was. Then, I wouldn't feel so gut wrenchingly depressed.

Liz hasn't let go of my hand once in the two hours since my co-workers arrived. It's embarrassing really. I wasn't even in the car that was destroyed, but it didn't stop them all from hauling ass across town to see me.

That poor woman… she did nothing wrong. Mercedes Blue was one of eight people murdered when the bank was robbed.

What could have possessed the bus driver to slam into her so violently? He could have easily turned and escaped after the first collision. He had enough space. No, the second time, he hit her just for the fun of it.

I remember a flash of long, wiry green hair as he moved deliberately through my vision to crush the Mercedes. He's probably some teenage kid with nothing going for him. He was probably spoiled rotten as a child, had horseshit grades, zero talent to speak of. I'm willing to bet that he dyed his hair green for attention, like he didn't get enough of it. Everyone makes time for the bus driver. In my head, he has an attitude problem as well – he's cocky and cruel, upsettingly so.

He's just a kid, no complexity to his story what-so-ever. He'll be arrested by tomorrow morning and spend his life in jail for two counts of murder and one of theft.

I had no idea how wrong I was.

I wish I had never gotten the chance to figure it out.