Stepping out of work I pulled the wretched cap they made us wear off my head. My scalp burned, itching from a day spent in the greasy rat-trap that was the "Cluckin'-Bell Chicken House!". My feet burned too, and neither my back nor my legs felt too brilliant either. Pulling my hair from its pony tail I fluffed it out, rubbing my scalp. Honest to God - If one more customer had pointed out our risqué name today - I may have actually killed them with a fresh-from-the-vat basket.

So our owner had something that bordered on a sense of humour.

Thankfully my bus was there when I got to the stop. Soon I could be home. Soon I could bathe.

But soon I was walking through the door to my mother saying "Oh, Amber. I think she's just walking through the door… Hold on." Amber is my best friend. Technically. We've been best friends since we were little kids - I, Honest to God, don't remember a time in my life without her.

But as time has progressed she's become more… Annoying. Where as I've grown up and gotten a job (Okay, it's the Cluckin'-Bell Chicken House - but it's a job) Amber hasn't. She still lives in a world where mummy and daddy buy her everything and to be honest - A little bit of me really hates that. I think it's more jealousy but she does seem to have a much better life.

I mean - I'm not whining. I'll admit it, my life is so super hard - what with being an only child, with parents in a mostly stable relationship with a lack of an abusive past - but you know woe is me. I mean I wasn't spoiled, at least not like Amber. She always seems to get her own way, and I know I can whine for England, but seriously. I'd only get the silver in a competition with her. Something is always wrong.

It wouldn't be too bad if her life sucked but she's always had what she wanted - new clothes, dancing lessons, singing lessons - She even all ready has a car and she doesn't even have a license.

But enough of that.

"Hello…" I said taking the phone off my mother.

"Hey-hey!" Even her voice was annoying, but I didn't really want to be mean to her. I'd seen her when she hated people. She can get rather cruel. "What colour would you say my eyes are?"

"Uhm… Brown?" I offered trying to hold the phone with my shoulder and pull my shoes off.

"Well, obviously. But like - what shade?"

"A muddy shade?" I grunted pulling off my second shoe.

"Mud? Come on, you can describe better than that! I've read some of your English work!"

"Yeah - Okay. Well - you remember that time we went down the woods, with the school and we both fell into that sort of… Stagnant pool of mud? The really stinking stuff that wrecked our clothes?"

"Yeah…"

"Like that. All dark and gloopy."

"My eyes make you think of stink mud?"

"Only you know… The colour. Listen, it's not an insult. Honest to God. Anyway, why?"

"You say that so often. I'm writing a story - I'll be putting it up later - would you read it for me?"

"Uhm… Yeah. Sure. Anyway I'm going to go - I need to clean myself." I rang off and placed the phone back in its cradle. I was not looking forward to reading Ambers' story. I'd read some of her work before and it was hard to make "This is poop, Amber. Utter poop," into "No - Amber. This is not poop! This is pure and unfettered awesome!"

But I could try. Later. My bath was calling…

Having twisted the towel around my head I sat down at the computer which hummed as it loaded up. An email waited for me linking me to Ambers story. I began to read it soon wishing I hadn't.

Amber was a young, beautiful rich girl who lived with her adoptive parents. Her real parents died when she was young and left her a huge fortune which was the only reason that her adoptive parents had taken her in - her money. They abused her terribly hoping she'd die so they could have her money.

She was incredibly pretty with long silky brown hair and chocolate-caramel coloured eyes that jealous people said looked like mud. But she knew the truth.

So I was jealous was I? Well. Maybe but not of her writing talent. I skimmed on, the description of her perfect body and attire going on for a while…

Tears rolled down the apples of her pink cheeks, which were round and soft, but not fat or chubby. "Oh, someone take me away from this place! Someone love me for who I am!" She declared throwing a penny into the wishing well she stood at.

"Hee. Ho. Ha. Ha. He… Ah-ha. Ha."

Amber span around coming face to face with - The JOKER!!

"Why so serious?!" He asked of her, his voice husky and deep.

Since we'd seen the dark night, Amber had discovered Heath Ledger, as the joker and decided he was super hot! In one of her most comforting and self-absorbed moments she'd told me about how she'd had a dream where we fought to the death for him. She had of course kicked my ass without getting as much as a scratch. I think she actually posted that as a story.

"Hey babe!" I typed and then paused. "Haven't finished reading yet - but it looks like it's got lots of Joker potential! I've got to go to bed now but I'll give you a proper review when I've read it all, eh?" Submitting it I sighed.

Most of her stories had these comments from me. Sometimes she'd ask me about finishing the reading and I'd leave vague comments about how it was great - and how I couldn't wait for more. Usually I wanted to add - I really don't think I can wait long enough, because I'll never want to read more! But they seemed to placate her. Not that I'd be much better myself at writing stories - at least she knew what spell check was.

I played about on the computer for a while longer before going to bed little knowing what I'd get into when I woke.

My head felt like it was lined with fur and lead, it lolled forwards as my eyes opened to semi-darkness. I was aware of feeling very heavy. Dizzy. Blurry. As my eyes began to pick out shapes, I couldn't keep them focused on anything. My backside and legs felt cold, and it was then that I realized I was tied to someone keeping my back warm.

I'd never been drugged, but that was certainly what this felt like and even in this state, I was certain this was not my bed.

My throat dry I managed a strangled cry of "Hello?" that didn't really sound much like any word I'd known any human to use.

I managed to stay conscious - which was a struggle, my brain wanted to sleep.

A while later I barely managed to avoid getting concussed as my partner jerked away head snapping back barely missing mine.

"Hello?" Her cry was cleared than mine.

"Amber?" I gasped, recognising that annoying slightly nasal voice.

"Vic?" She asked, sounding unsure.

"Yeah - What's going on?"

"I… I don't know… But I don't like it!" She stated starting to struggle. Maybe she was as weak as I felt because she barely seemed to affect me. The lights suddenly fired up with life, blinding me for a short while. Hearing footsteps, I looked to the side struggling to raise my head. That was when I noticed I'd been stabbed. With a needle or something I supposed - but the small wound with a large bruise in the crook of my arm was a hugely obvious hint.

I wondered absently why it didn't hurt.

"Oh my God…"

I managed to raise my eyes if not my head. Scuffed shoes, purple trousers that looked like they'd seen better days - a matching jacket and then what I was truly worried about. A painted scarred face.

"Oh my God." Amber repeated as we obviously both stared up at her current obsession - The Joker.

--

And there we go. First chapter, hope you like it. Review it if you read it, please, even to tell me it's poop? Utter poop? Sorry there isn't much Joker / Action that will come though - be patient.