He was dreaming. He knew he was, he must be. He was mad, that's true, but he still saw reality. Well, most of the time.

It was so bright, neon green and purple flashing obnoxiously, and there she was. His angel, his Harley. Well, his almost Harley. A familiar feeling of guilt clawed up his throat like bile. Harley smiled at him, her beautiful blonde hair hanging around her shoulders, drenched, and frazzled. Her lips weren't the supple pink he first kissed, but the white ones he breathed into on her last day. Her clothes, and skin, where melted and burnt. He cried out to her, and she reached to him.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, tears in his eyes. He was sorry. He killed her. He killed his Harley. He didn't know that the chemicals would kill her. He didn't know that she had an autoimmune disease; he didn't know she wouldn't be transformed like he was. He didn't know she would die.

She smiled at him sadly. "Oh, Puddin', it's not your fault." Her melted hand, still wet with the acid, cupped his cheek. He cried even harder, tears dripping into his red mouth, tasting of salt, regret, and weakness. Her white, chapped lips, kissed his forehead.

He woke.

It was early, only 4AM; he'd only been in bed a few hours. His bed, with the purple satin sheets, was big, and cold. His cheeks stained with tears. He sobbed again in pain, and began to scream, grasping at his neon green hair. He screamed, and screamed, and then, began to laugh. It started out as broken sobs, and became full blown streams of laughter.

WEDNESDAY

I stared at myself in the mirror, fidgeting with my hair. Dawn had curled it for me, despite my obvious disdain. My makeup was, as always flawless, but my face was pinched. I didn't want to go to this club with her.

I'd know Dawn since we were just kids, I, not to brag, knew her better than anyone else on earth. Yet, when she'd announced at her graduation party that she intended to move to Gotham for school, I was shocked. Dawn was the daughter of a small town Texas Sherriff; she was sweet, brilliant, and innocent. To imagine her in a rough place like Gotham was…. Frightening to say the least. That night, we'd argued, a screaming, throwing things argument. I was scared for her; she was an adrenaline junkie, with a naivety that would have her dead within a week.

That was two years ago. We're now twenty-one, and twenty, and it's the end of summer break before my second year of college. She invited me to spend the week at her apartment, and after much debating, and packing, and repacking of knifes, and pepper spray, I agreed. Three days ago, I flew in from Dallas, to Gotham. The closer we got to Gotham, the more anxious I became. Everyone had heard the stories, giant men dressed at bats, murderers, assassins, mobs, corruption. The crime rate was through the roof, one in five people would be assaulted, one in twenty murdered, and one in two mugged. I knew I was in over my head. I was just a small town girl, the worst I'd ever come up against was some kid trying to take my lunch money from my locker in high school. As the tarmac came into view, I felt like I was willingly walking into the devils den.

Dawn had to work the first two days I was here and last night when she got home from her waitressing job, she grinned at me slyly.

"Soooooo, Vi, how would you feel about an outing?"

I looked at her skeptically over my glasses. "An…. Outing?" My eyebrow rose. Dawn knew me as well as I knew her, and part of that knowing, was that she was fully aware I hated loud noise, strange people, and parties. I didn't drink, I didn't do drugs, and my dancing was…. Lack luster to say the least. However, she pouted, her big brown eyes boring into me, and assured me that her boyfriend, Jeremiah, would be there.

"It's this awesome club, King of Hearts, everyone goes there, please, plllllleeeeeaaaasssseeeee?" Her voice had taken on a high pitched, irritating tone. Finally I groaned and agreed.

As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my necklace, and fidgeting with my simple, relatively modest, dark purple dress, I couldn't help the anxiety that came over me. I hated clubs. I hated loud music, I hated strangers, I hated drunk guys, but God did I love Dawn.

She emerged from her room, a loose tank top, and multiple necklaces adorned her flat chest. Tight, barely there black shorts and fishnets showed off her long legs, and toned buttocks. Her fiery red hair was artfully mussed, and her black lipstick impeccably painted on. She looked hot. So hot, I almost didn't recognize her as the once eleven year old girl I'd met ten years ago until she stepped into the light. Her freckles, as always, where in full view, and I let out a small chuckle. She grinned at me with her abnormally small teeth, which I'd always called baby teeth, bemused. I began to laugh, giggling madly. Her teeth where so small, her freckles all consuming, she looked like a child.

"What?" she asked, grinning at me with a cocked eyebrow.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just…. You look like a little girl playing dress up!" I giggled again, and she rolled her eyes. She stuck her tongue out at me, and grabbed her purse from the counter.

"Up yours!" she called as she walked toward the door. I grinned and followed her, shaking my head.

J

I always wondered why I bought this club. The gold, the lights, it was much too bright for my taste. None of the girls that danced here where even close to being as lovely as my Harley.

"Nice to meet you J." came a deep voice next to me, pulling me from my reverie. I didn't yet meet his eyes, waiting for him to be seated in front of me. I heard Frost mutter to him, directing the man to the seat across from me. I looked at him, assessing.

He was a broad man, his skin tan, his hair, long and stringy, was pulled into a low ponytail. His eyes where dark, almost the same black of his hair, and his multiple tattoos were artfully placed on most every inch of exposed skin. I blinked, and raised an eyebrow, already bored.

He talked, chatted, and bored me half to death, something about a deal on the docks. God he was boring. As I stared at him with dull eyes, I began to day dream. Oh how fun it would be to play with him. Perhaps I could cut off his tattoos, and stretch them out. Let it dry out, and put them on my walls. He would scream, of course, and bleed. Maybe even die. The idea made me grin widely. He cleared his throat, taking me out of my day dream. He looked uncomfortable, with a small edge of fear. I growled in my throat, as I realized I wouldn't get to kill him, or keep his pretty tattoos as wall art. He was useful, and necessary to me, especially with that Bat in my city. I barely heard his terms, something about guns, some of the clubs girls, protection from the law, and money. God, these people where so booorrrriiiing.

All they cared about was sex, money, and survival. How dull. I grunted at him, and narrowed my eyes. He swallowed, jaw tense, fear barely hidden in his dark eyes. I grinned at him, and looked over my club.

"There" I pointed at the clear box at the center of the dance floor. Ana, a new girl, veteran hooker from Chicago, was dancing, her long, strawberry blonde hair swinging behind her. Her partner, Ayesha, a black girl with beautiful eyes, and full lips, who I'd indulged in upon occasion, was hanging from the chains, her ass on full display.

"Frost, tell them that they are to, if they are willing, service this…" My nose turned up as I looked the man over again. "Gentlemen… whenever he asks. If they say no, call Charlie. She'll do it." Charlie was a young college student, who stared at me with goo-goo eyes any time she saw me. It was slightly irritating, but I hadn't killed her, because her long golden hair and big blue eyes reminded me of my Harley. She was willing to do anything that had even a smidgen of a chance to impress me. Frost nodded at me, and motioned for the man to follow him. The man nodded at me.

"Thanks J, um, about the police and money-"

"UUUGGGHHHH" I rolled my eyes at him, and let lose one of my knives; it just barely missed him and wedged itself into the wall.

"If I'm giving you my girls, don't you think I'll do the rest?" I laughed and rolled my eyes again. The law wasn't even an issue for me. Most GCPD resided in my pocket, and the rest were easily sedated. And money? What use did I have for money? No, money was a non-issue for me. As a child, I'd never dreamed of the riches I had now. But still, it didn't make me happy. No, the only thing that made me happy these days was power, and respect. You don't need money for that; all you need is fear, which I caused in spades.

I flicked my wrist in annoyance, dismissing the irritating man from my presence.

I turned back to the window, and watched them reenter the first floor, and Frost escorted the man out, handing him a black and gold business card, and shaking his hand. My eyes wondered over the rest of my patrons, pondering Frost. I don't do friends, I'm the Joker after all, but if I did, I imagine I'd pick him. He's not dull, at least not when he loosens up. On the job though, he's loyal, and quick witted. He gets the job done effectively, and with minimal, or maximum casualties, depending on the situation. I couldn't help but think about how irritating it would be if he died and I had to replace him.

I moved my eyes from the dance floor, to the bar. Girls, nursing drinks, waiting for johns and clumsy one night stands, lined the bar, men, leering at the women on the dance floor, got more and more drunk, fumbling to flirt with any girl who would listen. How dull, how absolutely boring normal people-

Then, I saw her. She was curved, like a Greek goddess of old, her hair, which was curled and artfully pinned, was dark, I couldn't tell how dark from this far, but it looked black. Her face was lovely, her lips, full and smiling, where an oxblood red, it looked as though she had used someone's blood to color them. The thought made my mouth go dry. God, her skin was so pale, only perhaps a shade or two more alive looking than my own, and her dress, though christianly modest compared to the girls around her, hugged her curves in a delightful manner. She sat by herself, watching over two purses, and two drinks. Her eyes swiveled from a phone, to the dance floor, to the drinks, and back, keeping guard. A girl suddenly broke free from the dance floor, and made her way toward the little dove like girl at my bar. The girl's hair was fiery red, her skin a few shades darker than her friends. The girls seemed to be laughing, though the little dove was reserved, and smiled as if indulging an old friend, which she may well have been doing. The red head pulled on her hand, and dragged the dove onto the dance floor.

Frost was making his way back up the stairs, the moment he was in the loft; I dragged him to the window. He was confused, but didn't argue with me.

"You see those purses on the end there?" I asked eyes wide.

"The ones that are just left out in the open?" He asked brow furrowed. I nodded excitedly, biting my lip.

"Go get me the IDs from them." I ordered. Frost, the smart man that he was, didn't question me; instead he shrugged and went back down stairs. As I saw him making his way through the crowd, I was suddenly hit with guilt. What was I doing? Yes it had been five years, but I had killed my Harley, my angel. How dare I look at another woman like I looked at her? I began to grab at my hair in distress, when I smelt her perfume.

I turned around, and there she was, beautiful, bright, in her blue shirt, and black jeans, her long hair hanging to her waist. Whole, perfect, beautiful. She smiled at me, and walked toward me. "It's ok J, you can move on."

I knew it wasn't real, and felt my heart break. "No, angel, I killed you." I whispered, casting my eyes away from her perfect face. I felt a coldness, which somehow felt like home, cup my cheek. I met her eyes again, and she smiled.

"Puddin', I know you love me, but you have to move on." She smiled again, and kissed me softly. I leaned in, wanting it to be real…

The door opened, I looked around me. No Harley no scent of her perfume, no lingering cold.

I glared at Frost, who lifted an eyebrow, and held out two driver's license. One belonged to the red headed girl, and had her name, along with general information.

Resident of New Jersey, 5'4 blah blah blah, red hair, brown eyes, blah blah blah, 21 years old, blah blah, Dawn C. Mulligan

I handed it back to Frost, "Take a picture, run a background check on her, I want to know where she lives, works, how long she's been in Gotham, any… notable acquaintances, the works." Frost nodded, and waited patiently as I examined the second ID.

This one was different. It was a Texas ID, and I couldn't help a small scoff. "My my, the little dove has certainly made a migration…" I muttered.

Resident of Texas, green eyes, 5'6, 20 years old, black hair,

Violet Xaviera Wardust

"Violet" I whispered, the name like the sweetest syrup on my lips. A small draft floated through the room, Harleys perfume tickled my nose. I knew it was her way of giving a blessing.

"This one…" I held out the ID, my eyes trained on her pictured face. "I want everything on her. I want everything on her parents, I want to know every move she's made since the moment her father impregnated her mother." Frost, now looking truly confused, gently took the ID from me.

"Er, boss, you know I don't usually ask questions but…." I looked at him, expectantly.

"Who are they? I mean? This girl's from Texas, what could you possibly want with her?" He asked, confusion painting his blue eyes. I giggled, and began to laugh madly.

My giggles finally subsided, and Frost still stood there, confused. "Frost…" I said.

"I think I want a date with her."