Author's Note: The whole Catwoman-Riddler exchange in these first bits of dialogue was actually "borrow-stolen" from the graphic novel Batman: Dark Victory. I haven't really written for recreation in a few months, so I'm afraid it probably isn't as well-written as some of my previous works - but of course, only you, dear reader, can be the judge of that. So please, read on, enjoy, and of course kindly review.

The nervous man in the green pin-stripe suit felt his shoulder blades slam into the back door of the Mafia family-owned club before his mind registered what was happening to him. The loud bang! of solid contact rang in his ears.

The Cat's masked face leered at him. One hand was tangled in his shirtfront, bunching it around his tie, the other was held, claw-like, before the lower half of his face, the tip of the forefinger millimeters from the bridge of his nose. "What's green and brown and red all over?"

Shivering uncontrollably, Edward Nygma felt himself pale. Disregarding his wardrobe, his watery blue eyes and shock of tousled red hair, when paired with his now papery skin, could perhaps win him the title of "Most Patriotic Citizen" if he had lived in some small, rural town. But this was Gotham City, where bearing such a commission would only see him beaten, raped, or worse. "A. . . frog in a blender?" he squeaked.

Selina Kyle's lip curled - whether in a smirk or a snarl, Nygma was unable to determine. "No. A Riddler with his eyes scratched out."

Edward gulped audibly.

"You really should consider our offer, Nygma." Jonathan Crane spoke slowly, calmly, reprimanding him in a slightly unnerving manner, as if he were addressing a tantrum-prone child of five - or convincing a rabid asylum inmate that it was not in his or her best interest to resist treatment. "You will most certainly be well-paid, and you will be able to utilize your skill with conundrums to your heart's content. And it will be much. . . healthier for you to be on our side," the good doctor added ominously.

"And I'll even let you borrow some of my boys to keep you company," the Joker drawled, motioning a pair of thugs forward with an almost dismissive wave of his hand. "Just to get you started. And then you can return them to me once you. . . obtain some, uh, muscle of your own. If they're still alive." Such disposable creatures, bodyguards. . . The clown giggled shrilly, hysterically, and even the "veteran" hired help began to quake in their boots.

"Rest assured that we will. . . drop you a line if your assistance is required." Jonathan smirked.

Catwoman released her hold on the Riddler, and he fell into a heap on the frigid ground. When he looked up, he was alone with his new protectors. The others had gone, suddenly, silently. Dissipated, like smoke - or fear toxin.

- - -

Later on that night the clown and the crow toasted their "hiring" success with the exchange of saliva and the soft, delicate dance of their tongues. Joker moved against the doctor, back and forth, hard inside him, causing the submissive man to mewl and moan like a whore. Not an hour had passed before they finished, and then they lay side-by-side, trembling from exertion, but smiling.

After a while Jonathan got up to relieve himself, and when he padded back into the bedroom he found his lover sitting up in bed, holding Pet Sematary out to him. (Jonathan had recently introduced the Joker to the horrific world of Stephen King, and the clown had quickly grown to thrill in it nearly as much a Crane still did.) "Read this one to me again. Only just skip to the 'scary' parts."

Jonathan fought back a grin. "Of course, child," he said, faking the voice of the middle-aged black woman who was the chief secretary at Arkham. He slipped between the sheets and accepted the book, leaning comfortably against his lover as their backs pressed into the pillows. He flipped to one of his favorite scenes and began to read:

"[The cat] was slowly swaying back and forth as if drunk. Louis watched, his body crawling with revulsion, a scream barely held back in his mouth by his clamped teeth. [The cat] had never looked like this - had never swayed, like a snake trying to hypnotize its prey. . ."

END