Disclaimer: I don't own this. Everything belongs to DC comics. The only characters i own are Brianna and company.

"Next up, Brianna Graiden from Gotham High on the uneven bars!" The announcer called in a monotone voice.

"You're up Ryan!" My coach called to me. Of course I know my name, idiot! I slipped the jacket off my pale shoulders and walked up to the bars.

Jumping up I started to swing to get some momentum going. Silently praying my hair would stay in place and I wouldn't slip off the bars. I started to go in full circles on the bar. One, two, three, four, now switch! I sent myself flying onto the next bar. My momentum carrying me perfect. After swinging and switching for a few minutes I prepared for my exit. I placed both feet on the taller bar and back flipped off.

An earsplitting bang rang through the gym as my feet landed on the floor. Okay, I know I didn't get the landing perfectly, but I didn't slam my feet down! Another bang. The second bang brought me down from the clouds and into reality land. That was a gun shot.

Chaos had broken out in the gym. I backed to the bench, debating whether or not to join the chaos. Ever since the Joker had broken out of Arkham, yet again, everyone was on edge. A simple teen cat fight was suddenly the Joker's next plot. Actually, it had been surprising quiet for the past few weeks. Maybe this was his start. But hen again, why a couple of gymnastic teams and their fans? It was too low key for him. But since when was the Joker predictable? I got up from the bench and slipped on my jacket.

"Now-ah, don't leave on my account, toots!" I recognized that voice. The words carefully chosen and spoken which such deliberation only a madman would use.

Instead of replying I just walked faster. Maybe he would move onto another loner.

"Don't be like that-ah, sweetcheeks!" the Joker shouted behind me. I walked faster, desperate to get lost in the crowd. I could see the group of people rushing. Suddenly, I felt the cool of metal on my neck. The Joker's hand sat under my chin, holding it up while his knife rested on my neck. "Hiya! Toots!" the Joker's breath brushed my ears.

"Get the hell off me!" I all but growled. I struggled against his choking grip.

"Ah, got some fight in ya, I liiiiike it!" He chuckled as I froze. "Gimme a name!"

"Screw you!" Was all the reply I gave the freak.

"I, ah, don't think-ah, that's your name, dollface! So, what's your name?"

"None of your damn business!" I screamed.

"Uh, uh, uh! No screaming!" the Joker sang as he started to drag me across the gym. Could anyone have heard me scream?

"Drop the girl, Joker" A third voice entered the conversation. He sounded like he had been smoking a pack a day since birth.

The Joker swung around with me still in a vice-like grip, giving me a sense of confusion. I was forced to look straight ahead . . . at the one and only Batman. "I, ah, don't think so, Bats!" the Joker growled. He pushed the knife harder. I felt a small trickle of blood down my neck.

"Start picking on someone your own size," the Batman rasped.

"You mean you, Bats?" the Joker giggled, "Fine-ah!" He dragged the knife across my neck then dropped me. Black slowly started to surround the edges of by vision. This couldn't be over so soon. I knew I was going to die, but I couldn't help but wonder if he had really planned to kill me, just like that. No games. No toying. Just kill me. Probably not. That didn't seem like his style. But, who could tell with the Joker. I couldn't hold back any more, I gave way to the pool black.