Chapter Two

[A/N - OK, I brought out the next chapter, even though the last one didn't get too many reviews….readers, tell me what you think of my Joker!! Suggestions WILL be taken into account for following chapters…..read, review, and suggest things you'd like certain characters to say or do…..I'm not writing this just for myself but for all the other TDK fans out there, so if I can make you guys happy, that puts a HUGE smile on my face….love, everyone! Read and enjoy :D]

Ray fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed. Waking up after what seemed like only a few minutes, she realized that her unease had not left her overnight. Scrubbing her eyes with her knuckles, she stumbled around her apartment while she was getting ready, flicking an occasional interested glance at the stock exchange updates pop-up on her laptop. Canned juice up, ketchup down, corn up, oil up, shares for Wayne Enterprises down….no surprises there, she thought, stuffing a glamorously over size handbag with her things. Forty minutes later she was sitting in the make-up trailer of a commercial for diamond jewellery makers Swanson Éclat, and the model next to her was eyeing her shoes with exaggerated jealousy.

'They're perfect,' crooned Carlotta, her eyes darkening with envy. 'I'm in Grecian sandals too, but yours look so-'

'Kinky,' finished Ray. 'Two sizes too small and the straps will leave bruises for tomorrow. At least I'm getting paid well.'

Carlotta carefully smoothed out her lip-gloss. 'I'm completely broke, as always. Where does all my money go? Not even a thousand in the bank as of this morning-'

Ray privately thought that Carlotta would do better without her incessant Ecstasy fixes, but she discreetly handed over five hundred dollars without a word all the same. Carlotta might be a step removed from junkie, but she was a useful source of information regarding important people and events. And Ray needed contacts like that like she needed air to breathe. Her life revolved around being at the right place at the right time. Her lips twisted at the thought, and she was quite glad to slip away from Carlotta's overly bright chatter and take her turn in front of the camera.

The shot showed her silhouetted against a fake city skyline, wearing a delicately flowing toga-like dress and a Swanson Éclat necklace. The dress left one shoulder bare, and her hair was arranged so that tendrils brushed her bare neck and ears. The necklace was a gleaming chain of diamonds encircling just the base of her throat, with a single chain of platinum falling from the front and dipping one sparkling diamond down past her clavicle. The dress was in theme of a modern-day goddess, the diamonds were exquisite, and her feet hurt like hell. Fifteen interminable minutes later someone yelled 'That's it!' and she rose to go, letting an assistant remove the necklace as she rotated her neck muscles. There was a beep on her Blackberry.

'Meet me tonight?' she read, and tried to remember if she had ever seen the unidentified number before. Apparently not, as the digits rang no bells. Someone with the wrong number, probably, she thought, and texted back to say just that.

There was a reply in under a minute. 'Not a mistake, no. I just wanted to see you smile. The diamonds suit you.'

Whoever it was, was watching her? Ray rose on her toes to sweep the room with a cursory glance, knowing perfectly well that her stalker would stay out of sight. 'Who is this?' she typed out, sending it abruptly on its way.

'You looked beautiful last night, too. Like a swan princess of the night.'

What?

'Have we met?' she sent, scrambling around in the tiny trailer to get changed and clean the make-up off.

'I'd like to, angel. Ten minutes too soon for you?'

Ray stared at the screen for a full minute before flipping it shut and heading out to her car. The alarm bells in her head were ringing hard enough for her to make for the highway at full throttle. As she zoomed down to the docks for her meeting with Broxton and his men, a black truck loomed up in her rearview mirror. She swerved to the right to make room, but the truck didn't take the opening. Instead it came up so close behind it was practically nudging her bumper. She couldn't see the driver's face, just his arms and hands, and she waved him exasperatedly forwards. In reply, he slammed into her car from behind.

The Lamborghini went spinning around on the road in a screeching reflex of tires and steel. Ray's hands were shaking on the wheel in shock, and ten seconds had passed before she thought to look up. When she did, it was to see three men climbing down the back of the truck, which was now blocking her car from view of any passersby. She stepped on her gears and nothing happened. Damn.

Reaching for the automatic revolver in her glove compartment, she gave the men a pleasant smile. 'Can I help you, gentlemen?' she asked inquiringly, revolver cocked and out of sight behind her knee.

One of them opened her car door for her with exaggerated courtesy. 'The boss would like to take a ride with you, ma'am.'

'Is that right?' she said, and she was positively purring now. She stepped out of the car in a sinuous stretch, all heels and trench coat and coal black hair, and pointed her gun at the closest of them, waiting for him to try and grab her hands. Sure enough, he tried to tackle her, and only stopped when she grabbed his hair, slammed his head on to the hood of her car, sliced another one's calf open with her stiletto heel, and hit the third on the temple with the butt of the gun. Backing away from them, her eyes kept darting to the driver of the truck, who'd been drumming his fingers on the wheel all this time. He didn't look familiar at all, and the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach intensified. She knew every single 'boss' in Gotham City, by sight at least, except- except-

Well, there was this one guy who'd been put away before she ever set foot in this city. And it looked like he was the one driving the truck that just trashed her extremely expensive car. Ignoring the three men now feebly getting up from their positions on the concrete, she stalked towards him, revolver aimed firmly at what she could see of his torso. Closer, closer to the driver side, until she had to step back hastily when he flung his door open and leapt down right in front of her. She blinked as she saw his ghoulish face for the first time, recoiling from the manic gleam in his eyes. Moving back a step, she took in the long purple coat, the outlandish make-up and the stringy green hair disbelievingly.

'Is this a joke?' she asked, and immediately regretted the impulse.

The Joker whooped with laughter, but she noticed his eyes didn't change at all. Clutching his side in mock-hilarity, he straightened up and looked her up and down, practically ignoring the gun pointed straight at him.

'Well, aren't you pretty, angel? What's Marone thinking, letting you out on your own?' he said, sucking in his cheeks as he looked at her. 'If I were him I'd lock you away and never let any of the other guys even see you……I mean, they might just want to steal you away from me. Am I right or am I right, angel, hmmm?'

'You -' she stopped, realization hitting her, 'You sent me those messages.'

He cocked his head at her, still smiling. Was he smiling? It could just be the scars. Ray considered her options. She could try to make a run for it, but she was outnumbered four to one with a useless car. She could try to take them all out, but then the police would almost certainly get involved, and she'd be damned if she called in any favors from Marone. And third, she could just-

'Mr. Joker,' she said affably, pocketing her gun, 'Pleasure to see you. I believe you wanted to meet me?'

His mouth stretched into a smile, a genuine one this time, and he sketched her an odd little bow. 'Nice to meet you, ma'am,' he crooned in a high-pitched, sing-song voice, 'Isn't it a lovely day?'

Ray slanted a quick look at the cloud-laden sky, grey and impressive in its vastness. Maybe the weather had something to do with her recent obsessive worrying. 'It's beautiful. Did you want to make an appointment with Mr. Marone?'

'Is that what you do?' he inquired politely, 'Field Marone's calls?'

'No, but I can tell you how to contact the guy who does do that. I mainly just handle the money.'

He locked his glove-clad hands behind his back, hunching forwards as he did so.

'What else do you – uh - handle, angel?' he said quietly, and Ray suppressed the urge to slap him.

'Well, I get to sleep with all the big guys in turn, and if I'm very good at it I get a bonus on some of my commissions,' she said chattily, and watched his eyes darken with - something.

'That's good, that's good,' he nodded quickly, raising his eyebrows. 'Beauty and brains, angel, and a mean roundhouse punch too? Your hair's lovely,' he added, reaching out to touch it. She jerked back and stilled, her jaw clenching, her breathing a little heavier than before. He laughed.

'Well, I gotta run, angel,' he said flippantly, clambering back on to the truck. His men had somehow gotten there too without Ray noticing. 'Give Marone my love, would you?' he shouted at her, putting the truck in reverse, and in a minute he was gone.

Ray dragged in a deep breath, standing there alone on the highway beside a wrecked car with a sharp storm on its way. At the moment, she would have traded five years of her life to know just what the Joker thought he was playing at. In the meantime, she phoned for a cab and kicked her heels by the side of the road until the tow-people arrived.

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