The 'party' that continued to drudge on around me was mind achingly dull.
A bunch of rich white people dressed in fancy clothing standing around while they gossiped and chortled to one another, was not necessarily a scene I was accustomed to.
I stuck out from them not only from my slightly darker skin and dark, almost black hair, but also by the black and white uniform that adorned not only my body, but the bodies of the other servers in the room.
"Don't look so sour Anya, you love these jobs."
I forced a smile onto my face as I turned to Shelly, "I mean it's kind of hard to turn down a job that pays so high."
"Especially when you get to take home the left overs."
Our hips bumped together as we both giggled, warranting annoyed looks from the snooty guests.
The minute their backs were turned; my tongue was stuck out at them mockingly.
"How tasteful Miss Vanya."
I rolled my eyes, a grin etched onto my face as I turned to the voice, "I deeply apologize for my inappropriate actions Mr. Wayne."
The host of the party feigned an annoyed look that quickly broke into a small kind smile with just a shake of his head.
"I don't pay you to heckle my guests."
A hand went to my hip as I raised a single eyebrow, "Technically you don't pay me, the catering company does."
"Yes, but who signs their checks?"
I shrugged nonchalantly, he had me there.
Shelly rushed over to pull me away from Bruce, whilst smiling apologetically for my actions.
"You really need to stop pushing your boundaries."
I shrugged for the second time that night, knowing Bruce found me more amusing then annoying.
Bruce had disappeared to god knows where and our cow of a supervisor had appeared, meaning it was time to start taking the job a bit more seriously.
I noticed the bareness of my silver platter, so I made my way back to the table where the flutes of champagne were being filled. As I refilled my platter with the drinks I quickly chugged one of the glasses, knowing I would need the alcohol to get through the rest of the night.
More and more time passed, making it closer and closer to the time that I finally got to ate. I had been slowly sneaking little amounts of food from one of the many food covered tables that were almost completely untouched.
The waste of the food would annoy me if not for the fact that the less they ate meant the more I got to eat.
It was hard to tell whether the songs had been changing or if it was just one long song, since the tempo remained in the same time and the key never changed, but it didn't matter much just so long as time was continuing to pass.
As the night continued to go on, and less and less people were grabbing the flutes, I was allowed more freedom as my supervisor was attempting to network among the party goes who seemed to be hosting new parties every week.
Taking advantage of this newfound freedom, Shelly and I stood off to the side arguing animatedly.
"Common he's not that bad."
"Oh yeah."
"Yeah." Shelly conformed.
I bit back my original comment, instead settling on the simple truth of the matter, "Adam Sandler just flat out sucks."
Shelly gasped in flat out horror.
Our bickering was cut off by the sound of a shotgun going off.
As a bunch of second rate clowns flooded the party, causing the guests to cower in fear, their leader took charge, lowering his shotgun, "Good evening ladies and gentlemen."
He marched forward as his possposse rough handled the invitees and even one of my fellow servers.
The clearly deranged man with a heavy amount of grease paint adorning his face, paused momentarily before continuing and saying, "We are tonight's entertainment." Punctuating the end of his sentence by snatching a shish-ka-bob off the catering table and biting rather aggressively.
He proceeded to speak, his words slightly muffled as he chewed his food, "I only have one question. Where is Harvey Dent?"
His eyes scanned the room and once his back was turned to me I leaned toward Shelly, unable to contain my brilliant joke.
"Omg, I love the insane clown posse."
The whispering was easy, but muffling my laughter that begged to escape, only worsened by the abrupt slap to my shoulder, was a feat of its own.
Luckily attention remained away from us as he continued to scan the group, only momentarily stopping to steal a wine glass from a woman, that I knew I had provided.
He repeated his question twice, flicking a woman when he didn't get his answer.
He proceeded to fondle a nearby man's bald head, as he announced he would settle for loved ones.
I watched in horror as an older, clearly stupid, man attempted to stand up to who I knew to be one of the most feared men in Gotham.
The man proceeded to call the joker a thug and claim that we, because apparently, this man could now speak on behalf of the whole group, were not afraid of him, something I did not remember signing off on.
"Ya know-uh," He paused momentarily to bang his fist against the table, "You remind me of my father."
In one swift movement, he revealed a switch blade that he held up to the man's face, "I hated my father."
Before he could proceed to maim the brave and exceedingly stupid man, a female voice interrupted, "Okay stop."
I could only look on as he approached her, recognizing her and commenting on her looks.
He approached her with a predatory stalk, stopping in front of her a grabbing her face harshly.
"You seem nervous. Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got these scars?"
She struggled to get away, and we all watched on anxiously as he positioned the blade next to her mouth.
"Come here. Hey! Look at me. So I had a wife, beautiful, like you, who tells me I worry too much. Who tells me I ought to smile more. Who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks… look at me! One day, they carve her face. And we have no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again, hmm? I just want her to know that I don't care about the scars. So… I stick a razor in my mouth and do this…"
He was close enough that I could make out him miming slitting his own cheeks open, making me sick to my stomach.
"…to myself. And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves. Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling!"
He lets out a gleeful little laugh before Rachel goes for the cheap shot and he bursts into full out cackles.
"You gotta little fight in you. I like that."
"Then you're going to love me."
It was impossible to hold back the snort that escaped my lips, causing the Joker's eyes to lock onto mine in the millisecond before Batman sucker punched him.
In the next second mass hysteria issued, allowing me time to pull out my own switchblade that I kept concealed in my boot.
People began to stream out of the building as Batman took on a bunch of the goons of the Joker, easily kicking their asses.
I went into defense mode as one of the men tried to attack one of the party goes, sweeping his leg out from under him and jamming my blade into his side before knocking him out.
I moved to face my next attacker, feeling quite a few eyes on me, but stopped when I saw Rachel being held at gunpoint.
He egged Batman on, telling him to reveal his true identity, just before shooting out the glass panel of the window and holding Rachel over it.
I flinched at the next words to come out of the vigilante's mouth as he ordered for the Joker to let her go, to which he replied with the simple phrase, "Bad choice of words," before releasing her to plummet to her almost certain death.