A/N: My first Dark Knight story! Yeah! I'm so excited.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, but I do own Camille and Jason.

Chapter 1

She was putting on her makeup, the finishing touches of mascara, when the phone rang. She quickly recapped the tube of makeup and hurried out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the main room of her apartment. She grabbed the telephone off the receiver on the wall and answered with a perky, "Hello, Camille speaking."

"Camille, hi, it's Ben," came the masculine voice over the line.

Her upbeat attitude dropped at the sound of her boss's name. "Hi."

"I know it's your day off, but Joyce called in sick this morning and we need you down here," he went on, sounding like he truly regretted calling her in.

She pursed her pink lips in disappointment. "All right. That's fine. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She hung up the cream colored phone and leaned against the wall next to it. Part of her wanted to scream in aggravation and another part wanted to cry. Absentmindedly, she twirled the phone cord around her finger. Finally, she bit her lip, picked up the phone again, and dialed.

It rang once. Twice. On the third ring a male voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jason," she said sweetly, a bit of a smile on her lips.

"Hey, honey, everything ok?" He asked.

"Yeah, Ben just called," she said with a sigh. "I've got to work today."

He paused. "So lunch is off then."

"I guess so," she said, lifting her green eyes to the window above the kitchen sink. "Maybe we can still do supper?"

"That's fine with me," he replied. "I'll pick you up around seven."

"Ok," she smiled, not as upset as she had been before. "Love you."

"I love you too."

She hung up the phone and made her way back through her apartment. It was small with a small kitchen, one bedroom, and one bathroom. But it was large enough for her. It had not been too expensive, considering it was a nice apartment- nicer after she had decorated it. She had wanted a place further from The Narrows and other dangerous areas of Gotham but this was the most she could afford now. Much to her relief, she had never had much trouble with crime, at least not compared to the rest of Gotham. Occasionally, a thief hoping to hit the big time would come trying to find something of worth. The most she had ever lost was her television set when she forgot to lock her front door.

She made it a point to never go anywhere alone at night. That was why Jason, her boyfriend of two years, always came and picked her up on their dates and always walked her up to her apartment. The fear of robbery and crime always lingered in the back of the citizens of Gotham's minds. She had been terrified the first few weeks living there after she had graduated from college, but after nothing really eventful happened, her nerves settled. All that remained was due caution and it served her well.

With reluctance, she changed into a black pencil skirt and a blue empire-waist shirt. Slightly uncomfortable, but it was professional and her job demanded it. She grabbed up her purse and slipped her cell phone into her jacket pocket and headed out the door. The sound of her black heels was softened considerably by the carpeted hallway. Her mouth was turned down and she walked with determination, just wanting to get the day of work over with. She mentally made a note to herself that either Joyce or her boss owed her a day off.

Not like that's going to happen anyway, came the mental reprimand. She rolled her eyes at it and hurried down the three flights of stairs between her and the ground floor.

As she exited the building, a stiff breeze tried to jerk her jacket off her body. She shivered and pulled it tightly around herself. This October had been chillier than normal. For a second, she considered going back up to her apartment and getting a heavier jacket, but threw out the idea at the thought of tackling the stairs again.

Clutching her purse and jacket closely to her, she stepped to the edge of the curb and waved a hand. The taxi driver drove past without a second glance. She glared after him, but stuck her hand out again. The second driver came to a stop and she jumped in.

"Gotham Union Bank, please," she recited and settled back in the seat.

"Right away," the driver responded and pulled back out onto the road.

Camille stared out the window and rested her chin on her fist. Homeless people wandered the streets and stared out of the allies at her as she rode by. It made her feel guilty just looking at them, but also scared her when they met her gaze. Some seemed so desperate. Just wanting food, shelter, anything.

Suddenly a man tapped on the window with a tin cup and she jumped. He pointed down into it with a dirty finger.

"Hey, get out of here!" The cab driver shouted and shook his fist.

Camille quickly locked the door and slid to the other side of the car. She looked out the front window to see why they had stopped. The traffic light shone red. Sighing and glancing back quickly at the homeless man who was now wandering down the street, she hoped the light would change soon. This area, although not near as bad as The Narrows, still made her nervous. If she had a chance, she would move into one of the nicer areas of the city. Somewhere away from the grit, criminals, and homeless people. Jason had a nice apartment in a better area of the city. She would eventually be there with him, whenever he proposed and they got married.

"Alright, lady, that'll be twenty," the taxi driver said in his obnoxious voice and held a hand back.

Camille jumped out of her thoughts at the sound of his voice. Glancing around, she saw that they really were at their destination. She fumbled through her wallet, gave him the amount owed, and got out. The bank was very large with cement steps leading up to the doors, practically the whole front wall made of glass, and big, white columns holding up fine architecture. It was a mixture of modern and old- very familiar to her.

She strode up the stairs as she had done many times before and entered through the glass doors. Several people were standing in the vast telling area, either waiting in line or writing out a check to be cashed. She hurried around them, entered behind the desk, and took her place at her regular station. Setting her purse down on the counter behind her and removing her jacket, she saw that her computer was already running. She glanced down a few empty stations at Hayden and smiled a quick thank you. The other woman smiled back.

The entire morning, Camille was busy cashing checks, withdrawing, and depositing money. Absently, she wondered exactly how much money had passed through her hands in her five years working there. A lot, no doubt. Many rich people stored their money there, including the billionaire, Bruce Wayne. She had never met him, but had dealt with his accountants many times in the past. She had handled his accounts before as well and supposed he thought he had better things to do than worry over the payment of his employees.

When the morning rush finally ended, Hayden left her station and scurried down to Camille's station. She looked eager to share something.

"Did you read the newspaper this morning?"

"No, why?" Camille answered and sat down on a stool, giving her aching feet a break.

"The Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum last night," she practically whispered, her blue eyes frantically searching her co-worker's face for a response.

Camille's eyes widened and her eyebrows rose. "Are you serious?"

The other woman nodded and pulled a neighboring stool closer. "Yeah, the article said three guards there were killed."

Camille shifted uneasily in her seat. "Well, even if he did escape, he'll lay low for a while, don't you think?"

"Not a man like that!" Ray, a man in the station to their right, exclaimed and turned to them. "He's insane, you know. He'll go out and do something big either today or tomorrow. I'll bet this month's pay on it!"

"You're that sure he will?" Hayden asked and leaned forward nervously.

He nodded and crossed his arms as if he were an expert on psychological disorders rather than a bank teller. "Yup, he's insane."

"So you've said," Camille replied and rolled her eyes on the whole subject. "Even if the Joker does do something to get attention, the chances that he'd do that here are very slim. So lets drop it, alright? He creeps me out…"

"I never said he'd rob our bank," Hayden nervously twisted a strand of blonde hair around a finger.

"But you were thinking it," Camille replied knowingly and got up off the stool. "If you two want to scare each other, go ahead. I live alone, so I'd much rather not worry about the Joker being in my apartment when I get home." At the mere mention of the idea, a chill went down her spine.

"Now that's a scary thought," Hayden said and got up off her stool as well. "Do you need to stay with me and Jerry tonight?"

Camille gave her friend and coworker a kind smile. "Thanks, but no. I'm a big girl, you know."

"He's probably not even near your area," Ray said, now trying to backtrack from what he said earlier.

"Thank you, Ray," Hayden said condescendingly. Then added in her normal voice, "If the Joker's got to be in Camille's apartment, I'm sure she'd rather not be there while he is."

"Hush!" Camille hissed to them and nodded her head towards someone walking up to them. "Someone's coming."

Hayden glanced up and hurried back to her station. The man walked to Ray's station, so Camille sauntered over to her friend's station to complete their conversation.

"You honestly don't think the Joker will be in the area, do you?" Camille asked quietly, glancing behind her friend at the other tellers attending to business.

"No," Hayden laughed. "That's just Ray. You know how he always acts like he knows every-"

Suddenly there was a yelp and the sound of a stool being scraped back across the tile floor. The two women looked back at Ray's station and sudden fear gathered in the pit of their stomachs. The man, who had looked like an ordinary costumer, was pointing a gun at a terrified Ray.

Hayden screamed along with several other people around her who suddenly realized what was happening. The man jerked his gun towards them and backed up slightly. "Put your hands up! I want to see your hands! Now!"

Everybody complied immediately, keeping their eyes on the loaded weapon. The man eyed them all quickly before shoving the gun back in Ray's direction. Camille quickly slid her foot forward and stepped on the silent alarm. Suddenly a gunshot echoed throughout the large room. More screams followed. The man holding the gun fell to the floor.

Camille was about to open her mouth to speak when a slow, sinister laugh began reverberating off the walls. Nobody moved. Eyes darted around nervously, trying to find the source of the noise. Then he came into view. He walked out from beside one of the offices, where he would have had plain view of the whole scene. Purple suit, tattered green vest, dirty, matted blondish hair. White face, black eyes, evil, bright red grin plastered permanently on his face. The Joker.

Men in clown masks rushed around him on either side, each holding a gun. They quickly surrounded the group of employees and costumers and began jerking the tellers out from behind the long desk.

Camille squealed as one man jerked Hayden over the desk and onto the hard, tile floor below. Her eyes darted around for some means of escape, but the man grabbed her by the arm and jerked her forward as well. She caught herself just before her face hit the floor and remained in a kneeling position, too afraid to move.

"Looks like someone tried to beat us to the job," the Joker said with a laugh as he kicked the corpse. Camille glanced over, trying to keep from screaming. In his gloved hand, he held a knife which he flicked in and out with his thumb, almost unconsciously. He looked away from the corpse and their eyes met for a second. Instantly she looked back down, afraid he would kill her now for looking at him. He did not have to have a reason to kill.

"Tie their hands," he ordered. His footsteps drew nearer.

Camille kept her eyes glued to floor and her trembling fists clenched. If she were standing, her knees would feel weak. She could see his shoes out from under her brown bangs. They stopped in front of her. Suddenly his hand grabbed her chin and jerked her face upwards. She squealed, but managed to cut it off.

He was kneeling in front of her, a twisted smile on his face. His dark eyes pierced through hers, just causing her tremble even more. "Are you scared?"

Her lips trembled as she tried to answer, but no words would come.

"Answer me!" He shouted in her face.

"Yes!" She exclaimed almost in the same instant, flinching at the sudden increase in volume.

That same twisted smile reappeared on his face and he said in his normal voice, "You shouldn't be scared. You want to know why?"

She nodded shakily, afraid to have him yell at her again.

"Because you seem interested in what's going on," he said, snickering a bit as if it were a joke. "So I'm going to let you open the vault for us."

Then, laughing out loud, he stood and looked around at his men's handiwork. Seeming pleased, he pointed his knife at a couple of them and said, "You two stay here. The rest, come with me."

He grabbed Camille by the arm and jerked her to her feet. She stumbled, caught herself, then was pushed forward towards the door leading to the stairs. A few of the Joker's men scurried on in front of them, guns drawn as if there were some kind of threat behind the door. They reached the door and one of the men opened it and Camille was shoved in first. It suddenly dawned on her that they did not need her to open the vault. They were using her for security.

She stumbled onwards, mentally praying that the security guards were asleep or out to lunch or something. A couple of the men ran ahead again to the corner and glanced down the stairs. Apparently satisfied that it was clear, they poked at her with their guns and she hurriedly led them down. At the bottom of the stairs was a steel door with a green touch pad next to it.

One of the men looked down at it then said a little louder than necessary. "It's a fingerprint recognizer!"

"It's a good thing we have you around," the Joker replied sarcastically and grabbed Camille's right hand. "Which finger, doll face?"

She gulped, eyeing the knife in his hand and afraid he would cut off the finger. "I-index finger."

He jerked her forward by her hand and smashed her finger into the screen. A dim, green light appeared under her finger and the door swung open silently. Again, she was pushed in first and they followed.

"Pick up the pace!" One of the men ordered and prodded her with his gun.

She yelped and jumped slightly, but obeyed. They reached another corner and she was pushed around it first once more. The two security guards who were stationed outside the vault looked up and began reaching for their guns.

"Everything ok, Ms. Houghman?" One asked uncertainly.

She bit her lip and silently prayed they would surrender at the sight of her captors. At that instant, the Joker and his men came rushing around the corner, guns firing. She dropped to the floor and covered her head, hoping against all reality that this was just a dream and she would wake up soon. Then all went silent. She hesitantly uncovered her head and glanced behind her. All but one of Joker's men were still standing. She knew the guards had not made it through the fight.

She felt a strong grip on her arm again and was easily hauled to her feet and pushed forward. She almost fell, but managed to catch herself and continue leading them to the vault.

"Somebody's done this before!" The Joker stated with a snicker. He obviously found the entire situation funny.

Camille glanced down and immediately wished she had not. The crumpled bodies of the guards lay in little pools of blood. She drew her eyes up and stepped over the men. Then, with practiced actions, she opened the vault as she had done many times before. It swung open quietly and the men went flooding in except for one who stood with his gun shoved into her back.

Then the sound she never thought she would be thankful for reached her ears. It started off quietly then grew in volume as it drew nearer. Police. A smile of relief spread itself across her lips. Rescue from this nightmare was almost there!

Suddenly the Joker paused and listened. The other men noticed and hesitated as well. Then they heard what he heard.

"Get the bags," the Joker ordered quickly and hurried out of the vault. The three remaining in the vault quickly finished filling the bags, closed them, and ran out after him. The Joker grabbed Camille's arm and began shoving her back the way they had come. She stumbled along, trying to keep her balance in the two inch heels she had stupidly decided to wear that day.

They reached the top of the stairs and met up with the two men who had stayed in the lobby with the hostages.

"The police are here!" One exclaimed and gestured back over his shoulder with his gun. "They're all out front."

"Well, doll face, it seems you've become our insurance policy," the Joker said to her and began prodding her along down another hallway.

The red exit sign at the end of the hall shone brightly over the door. Camille only hoped the police would have sealed off that exit as well. One of the men pushed open the door and then pushed her out after it. Her feet never reached the two stairs below the door. Instead, she crashed onto the dirty, wet cement below, ripping off the skin on her knees and tearing holes on the elbows of her shirt. The Joker and his men came rushing out after her. One grabbed her by her neck and forced her to run along beside him while doubled over.

One man jumped in the driver's seat of a dirty grey van that was parked at the entrance of the ally. A couple more men piled in the back. Suddenly shots rang out around them. The Joker and two men left standing outside the van scurried around to the front of it for protection, pulling Camille with them.

"Let me see your hands!" A couple police men were screaming from outside the ally.

The Joker quickly grabbed Camille around the waist, turned her around so she was not facing him, and put a knife close to her throat. She screamed and he did not stop her, apparently wanting to alert the police to the fact that he had a hostage. He suddenly stepped out from in front of the van and she squealed again.

"Hold your fire!" One police shouted out.

"He's got a hostage!" Another one cried.

Camille desperately wanted to scream for help, but now the blade's razor sharp edge was poking uncomfortably hard into her skin. She feared if she spoke, it would easily slit her throat.

"If anyone tries to follow us, the girl is dead," the Joker shouted and jumped in the van then dragged Camille in after him. The two men remaining outside hurried in as well and pulled the door shut. Camille found herself being pushed and shoved until she was in the very back of the van. The driver started the engine and the van jerked to a quick start. The police sirens sounded again and she knew they were giving chase.

"I love a good car chase!" The Joker exclaimed and jerked the man out of the front passenger seat. He plopped down in the seat, rolled down the window and dropped something out. At that moment, the driver sped up and swerved out into the street.

Camille found herself being flung to the other side of the back of the van. An explosion sounded in the ally quickly followed by one more. She pulled herself to her knees and peered out the back window. Black smoke rolled out the ally, but out of it, a couple polices cars came rushing forward. She grinned from pure joy at the hope of being rescued.

The Joker was laughing. She turned to see him leaning partially out the window holding a gun. He fired. The bullet hit one car square in the windshield, shattering it completely. The car swerved and hit a light post. The second car moved over to the other side of the van. Another shot, this time from the driver. The police car retreated back several feet directly behind them.

Suddenly, the van swerved around a corner, half of it jumping up on the curb. Camille's knees left the floor of the van then jumped on them again as the van dropped off. She groaned in pain and rolled onto her side, her hands clutching her bleeding knees. There was another explosion behind them. Her eyes widened and she scrambled back to her knees, disregarding the pain. The final police car was careening down the wrong side of the street, blazing with fire.

"No…" she whispered and shook her head. Gulping back the fear, she sat back and stared up at the blood she had smeared under the window. She just knew there would be more bloodshed. Specifically hers.

The men behind her were laughing and muttering amongst themselves. Their haul was not large, but the destruction seemed to please them. She glanced behind her to see no one was looking back at her. She bit her lip and pulled off her shoes and reached for one of the door handles to the back door. Slowly, she began turning it, but it stopped. She let it reset itself and turned it again more quickly. It was locked. Now frantic, she jerked at it, smearing blood all over it.

Finally she gave up and sat back and put her shoes back on. Tears began welling up in her eyes, but none fell. A few silent sobs shook her body and she leaned back against the back seat. No one paid her any mind. Not even the men sitting in the backseat glanced back when she tried to escape.

Eventually, the van slowed and began rolling over bumpy ground. She limply pulled herself up and looked out the windows. They were now at an old shipyard area. Long rows of abandoned warehouses surrounded them on all sides, perfect for a hide out. She slowly slid back down. No one would even know to come looking for her body out here.

Finally the van came to a halt and the men began piling out. She remained where she was, wondering and hoping that if she kept quiet, the Joker would have forgotten about her. Luck was not on her side again. The door swung open and there stood the Joker. The first thing he looked at was the blood on the door then to her hands and knees.

"Trying to escape before we've had any fun?" He asked with a laugh then reached in and jerked her out. She stumbled to her feet and he turned her around. "So, how do we get rid of you now?"

It dawned in her mind that he already knew fully well how he was going to get of her. Her eyes widened and she found herself on her aching knees. "Please, don't kill me! I can help you!"

He raised an eyebrow at her and smirked at her desperate plea for mercy. "How could you help me?"

"Well, uh, I love to clean," she lied, trying to get her mind to find something she was actually good at. "I can cook. I'm a really good cook. You would love my food!"

"How about something helpful, hm?" He interrupted, becoming uninterested.

Her eyes darted around, her mind seemingly stuck on cooking. Finally, she blurted out, "I'm good with computers. I know how to hack into things. I can sharpen knives-"

"You know how to hack into bank systems?" He asked, interrupting again. Now she seemed to have caught his interest.

It seemed like it took her mind hours to catch hold of what he had just asked. The chance of life was just one word away. "I-I'm sure I can, yes."

He pursed his bright red lips to one side and looked up away from her. She followed his gaze to see a man standing to her left, pointing a gun at her. Her breath caught in her throat and she brought her eyes back up to the Joker. He looked back down, studying her with his piercing, dark eyes. "Thanks to the police, we didn't manage to get as much as we wanted. Think you can fix that?"

She bit her lip and nodded furiously. "Yes."

"For your sake, you'd better be right," he looked up and nodded towards the other man with the gun. The second man grabbed her up off her knees and began dragging her along towards the abandoned warehouse near the water's edge. The only sounds were her heels clacking on the broken concrete beneath her feet, the other man's shoes, and the quiet lapping of the water against the concrete wall.

He took her inside and through a messy lounge area. Trash littered the floor and tattered couch and chairs. The whole room smelled of stale food and sweat. She crinkled her nose as they passed through. They hurried down a small hall way and around a corner into an almost empty room. A tattered looking sheet was wadded up in one corner and a few pieces of trash were scattered around. A couple windows stood on the far wall and near them there was a single mirror.

"Here's your room," the man said grudgingly and pointed his gun into the room. He seemed angry that he had not been able to use it earlier.

She entered cautiously and glanced around. It was slightly chilly and the floorboards creaked under her feet. The door behind her slammed shut and she jumped and looked back. She watched it a moment before turning and walking to the windows. The cracked pavement extended all the way to where the building began. An old, iron tower stood a few feet away. Rust was clinging to it. Beyond that, several yards away, was another old shack. The one window she could see was missing a pane of glass.

She sighed and traced her finger along a crack in the window. She knew she was not in the clear yet. It had been years since she had hacked into anything and she had no idea if she still could. Technology had advanced; firewalls and other security systems now protected valuable information. She bit her lip, looked down at her knees, and winced. Numerous bits of gravel clung to the blood and dirt from the back of the van stuck in the scrapes. She looked up to the door and wondered if she were allowed to leave the room. Doubting it, she pulled off her shoes, letting her toes stretch.

Then an idea dawned on her. Gasping she grabbed up one of her shoes and darted to the door. She cracked it open and peered out into the hall. No one. As she hurried back to the window, she noticed the floor seemed to crack and pop more than it had earlier. One more glance over her shoulder to the door, she touched the pointy heel of her shoe to the window. She gripped it tighter, pulled back slightly, and touched it to it again. Sucking in her breath, she swung hard. The shoe bounced back off the glass, leaving a small chip in the pane.

Camille frowned at it and glanced back at the door. Silence. She took a couple steps back, aimed, and lunged forward while swinging the shoe. It bounced back again and she stumbled back a few steps. There was now a crack running from the middle up to the top right corner. Half of her was thrilled at the crack, but the other half was terrified she would be heard. Another quick glance out the door confirmed she was still alone.

Gulping, she took a running start and crashed her shoe into the edge of the window. She mentally cursed herself for her bad aim. Then the dreaded sound of footsteps reached her ears. Panicking, she threw the shoe on the floor next to the other one and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. A cockroach scurried out of one fold, but she barely noticed as she leaned casually against the cold wall.

The door opened and she looked up. There was the Joker, not looking entirely pleased. She gulped and forced herself not to look at the cracked window. His eyes went from her to the newly cracked window. He started walking in, slowly. She bit her lip and dropped her eyes, focusing on her own feet.

He bent down in front of her and picked up one of her shoes and held it up for examination. Finally he looked past it to her and she quickly looked away, completely terrified. "Trying to escape already, hm?"

Her eyes finally located the cockroach as it crawled down her leg, but it did not register. Her heart was pounding in her ears almost louder than in the bank.

At her silence, he jerked her right wrist forward, twisted it, and she yelped. Her eyes met his and she instantly felt herself shrinking back.

"You know," he began, his tongue darting over his lips. "It would be a shame to have to break your wrists before you get our money for us."

She felt herself either nod or begin trembling harder. Whichever it was, he grinned a crooked grin and let go. She jerked her wrist back and rubbed it, watching him carefully. He grabbed up her shoes and waved them at her tauntingly and left her alone.

For a few quiet moments, she just stood there, staring at the door. Her trembling finally subsided and her breaths returned to a normal pace. The pain in her locked knees came to the forefront of her mind and she slid down the wall so that she was seated. Everything was quiet except for the sound of a television droning on in a distant room.

She leaned her head back on the wall behind her and closed her eyes. Images of Jason flooded her mind and tears began to form in her eyes. He had dark, almost black, hair, blue eyes, and was tall. He was a successful lawyer and they had dated for almost two years now. He was so thoughtful and kind- a real gentleman in a world where that trait was fading. She had hoped to have married him by now, but he was slow in making important decisions whereas she rushed in. Now that might not ever happen. Her friends and family would worry about her for weeks. She would be either trapped in this room or dead. She figured it would be the latter. She had already seen too much, too many faces.

Quietly, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed

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Commissioner Gordon got out of his car and locked it behind him before hurrying into the mass of police cars and ambulances. His eyes scanned the crowd for the sheriff. Terrified men and women stood near the ambulances or close to a police officer. He had seen this sight many times before.

"Sheriff!" He called and picked up the pace at the sight of the man.

Sheriff Rodgers turned, but did not smile. His mouth was held in a grim line. "Yes, sir?"

"Fill me in on the details," Gordon ordered, now in front of the other man.

"Sir, two guards were killed, but no one else was hurt," he replied, then added bleakly, "It was the Joker. He has one hostage. We don't know if she's still alive as of now."

Gordon frowned and nodded absently. "Do we have a name?"

"Yes, sir, Camille Houghman," the sheriff answered.

"Family?"

"Her parents live about two hours north of here. Her boyfriend, Jason Myers, lives here in the city."

Gordon nodded again and looked around at the still frightened faces. "I'll contact Mr. Myers. See if you can find some kind of contact information for her parents."

"Yes, sir," the sheriff replied.

Gordon stepped away from the crowd and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He had had many occasion in the past where the younger man's assistance was needed. He dialed the number and waited for him to pick up. After several rings, he answered, "Jason Myers speaking."

"Jason, it's James Gordon," he said, shifting on his feet.

"Hey, how are you?" The other man asked, sounding pleased to hear from him. "Another case I need to take care of?"

Gordon smiled slightly. "Not this time. I have something to tell you about Camille."

"Is everything alright?" He asked, not sounding as pleased.

Gordon hesitated. "She's…she's been kidnapped."

There was a pause. "You're not serious."

"I hate to say it, but I am."

Another pause. "Who did it?"

"The Joker."

Jason hissed a curse to himself, but Gordon heard it. After a second the younger man asked, in a desperate voice, "What happened?"

"Apparently Joker was robbing Gotham Union and, according to what eyewitnesses say, he made her open the vault," Gordon said. "He used her as a shield from the police."

Another pause, this one longer. "Is she alive?"

Gordon bit his lip. "As of two hours ago, she was. I don't know about now."

"I'm coming down there," Jason replied quickly and the line went dead.

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A/N: Um, not much to say here. Reviews are always appreciated!