Omg A new chapter? Liek Woah. ;) Hope you like it! Also, just a note to anyone who doesn't review but still reads and enjoys: I will hunt you down. :D Kay?

I don't own the Joker, Harvey Dent, GPD or Rachel Dawes but I DO own Carley. And I believe clowns are public property.

I squint as my eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark room, the sun having been blocked out of Harvey's office by the white, aluminum shades covering the large windows. Harvey and Rachel are blindfolded and bound to chairs facing away from each other back to back, duct-tape over of both their mouths. I gasped and raised a hand covered with forgotten bacteria to my mouth. Harvey wasn't moving. Thick blood was matted down the left side of his head and face but-Thank God!-he was still breathing. How long has he been like this? I must have spoken with him on the phone ten minutes ago, tops! Rachel, on the other hand was very much awake and struggling uselessly in her chair. She may have been a second thought but I'm glad she's not hurt. I'm not cold enough to want her dead.

My eyes suddenly sting with realization and I drop my purse. It was Harvey's blood I had touched on the joker card. That card was left for me by this man. I swallow thickly and glare at the grinning 'joker' who was standing not five feet away from me.

There were three other men in the room besides the two held captive and the man who had answered my question when I first, blindly entered the room. I shifted my eyes back to him. He has a small knife in his gloved hand and he's still smiling menacingly at me. I would have normally categorized him as a regular, tall criminal if not for his garish makeup and fashion sense. I'm not sure if 'makeup' is what most people would call it because it certainly wasn't put on to make him look more attractive. It was meant to frighten people and in spite of myself, I was scared. He looked like a demented clown from hell with those black eyes, the chipping white base layer and that crimson, stretched smile painted over his... are those scars? Oh god. His old fashion coat was deep plum in color which contrasted grossly with his greasy green-tinted hair. He looked like something out of a comic book, but this was all too real for me to process at one time. I tilt my head and squint at him.

His eyes shifted to the side for a second. Blinking, his messy smirk fell instantly. "You know, doll, it's rude to stare-uh." He growled, sounding like I had somehow insulted him. I'm still standing frozen in the doorway. Carley, why don't you go introduce yourself to the nice man who's holding a knife and your brother hostage? Seriously, what did he expect me to do? Of course I was going to stare at him. Didn't he know how he looked? I opened and closed my mouth a few times trying to think of something to say but nothing came to mind. I think I'm in shock. I took a tentative step forward, confusion screwing up my face, and leaving the door open incase I needed to run. The clown had his hands on his hips as though waiting for a handshake, a pat on the back, a terror filled scream. Anything.

"What's going on?" I forced out awkwardly. "What have you done to them?"

"We just played with them a bit," he spoke and his face stretched in a way that only he could call a smile. "Wouldn't want to hurt our White Knight in training, now would we?"

Rachel 'mmph'ed desperately when she heard our brief trade of words. The man with the makeup turned to look at her sharply and waved vaguely to a guy by the window. Window man rushed her quickly. "Hush-up now, doll face." I heard the masked clown grumble and with a mighty swing, whacked her in the head with the butt of his gun, seemingly knocking her out in one hit. I gasped loudly at the meaty sound the object made against her skull.

"Oh my God! What did you just do?" I'm not sure why I asked that. It was more out of disbelief and actual bewilderment. As if seeing the blood on Harvey's face wasn't enough, actually seeing some violence finally shocked me into a more solid state of realization.

"What the HELL is going on?" My voice shakes noticeably. I insist on getting some answers though I'm hardly the one who should be demanding anything in my position. This is not a dream. This is really happening. I'm not in some movie; were actually in trouble here. Trying to put on a brave face, I stand a little taller.

Ignoring my outburst, the man in charge shifted his weight onto his other foot and considered me for a moment, his knife tapping his chin in thought. Instead of answering my question he began to walk slowly in long, drawn steps, pacing the floor like a caged tiger. His shoulders were hunched and he drug his feet slightly. My mind was racing a mile a minute. I looked from him, to his knife, to the other men in the room, to my brother and back to him and his strange walking. His deep purple coat shifted with his every move. He had my full attention. A man with a clown mask coughed in the distance.

"I'm here because I have... a little offer to make you. Well," he squinted momentarily and licked his lips quickly, "it's not really an offerrr." Stopping walking, he looked at me. It felt like he could see inside my head. "Not unless you'd like your big brother and his girl, here, to die-uh." He giggled but it sounded nothing close to cute. It was the wheezey sort of titter of a man who had left his sanity behind a long time ago. The sound scrapes at the inside of my skull irritatingly.

His laugh dieing down he tongues the scars on the inside of his cheek and waits for a reply. He had completely ignored my question. If it wasn't an offer then it was a demand. What was this guy up to? "Who are you?" I asked, frowning and taking another step forward. I was secretly trying to edge my way over to Harv and Rachel. Ignoring me again, he watched me like a hawk. I guess I wasn't being sneaky enough. Changing tactics, I asked, "What do you want from us?"

He grinned. Apparently, I had finally asked the right thing. I was now watching the other masked men in the room. They held large, black automatic guns in their gloved hands. None of them were as 'well dressed' as the menacing man addressing me but maybe that was meant to make him the focal point of this visit. The man I have now mentally dubbed 'the Joker' pivoted on the spot and walked briskly over to Harvey and Rachel. He stood by my unconscious brother and aggressively grabbed his chin, turning his unresponsive face towards me. There was more blood than I had thought.

You see this face, he asked joyfully. I nodded hesitantly, keeping my eyes on Harvey and only Harvey.

"So does Gotham. Every day of their goddamn lives they see this guy on TV, looking important and blabbing his mouth off." He paused for what I can only assume was effect. "Most people—now, I'm not saying all people—most people look at this face, this handsome, confident face of Harvey Den-tuh and they see hope. Hope that this damned city can someday…" he struggled for the right word then used his free hand to show something coming up and out of his chest, "cure it's nasty rash it so fondly calls 'crime.'" I raised my eyebrows in speculation, but I was still looking at Harvey. I wasn't quite close enough to do anything to help him out but I was still inching my way to him. I know Harv would be furious if he were awake. The other men in the room were slowly circling us like wolves on a fresh kill.

"And you, Blondie, are going to be the one to fix that." My vision snapped back to those black hole eyes and I blurted out, what?

"You heard me." I heard him. I eyed the clowns with guns, the furthest not three feet away now. I meant, what in the Hell did he mean by it?

He grinned broadly at my bluntness. "Ahh… I mean, when you're through with him, no one is going to see anything good about Harvey Dent anymore." He abruptly dropped Harvey's head and I watched it fall limply back onto his chest. My hand reached out half heartedly as if I could save him. That when I have to go for it.

I lunge at Harvey but I'm too slow. Either that or he was too quick.

"Hey!" He snarls, "None of that!" The Joker slammed me bodily against the wall knocking the wind out of me, grabbing my jaw and brandishing a small knife at me. There was no use struggling at this point. My face in his tight grip, he used his gloved thumb to push up one side of my mouth, forcing my lips into a pained smirk. "Smile!" I glared at him, the knife that was now digging into my abdomen and my inability to do anything to stop him. My thick business jacket was thankfully strong enough to stop any real injury from occurring. For now.

"How can you expect me to smile right now!?"

"People, like you, don't know the true meeeaning of happiness."

"Oh?" I grunted the question, "And people like you do?"

"Yessss," he hissed through his grinning yellow teeth. He licked his bottom lip on one quick swipe. "Little princess' like you have had everything given to them on siiilver platterrrs by their successful big brothers," he added in a mocking tone, giving the blade a little twist. I flinch in spite of myself. "When you have that taken a-way, you'll realize how uh… good you had it. Key word: Had," The last word was practically roared at me, if humans are capable of that. I averted my eyes from his pressing closeness and increasing loudness; his heavily breathing split grin spitting in my face. I couldn't stand to look into those black eyes of his any longer. They were poisoning my mind. When I looked at him I couldn't concentrate on a damn thing.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I knew exactly what he was getting at but he could have never been more wrong. I raged for a fleeting moment, attempting to push his thick hands away from my face but failed. He slammed my head into the wall for good measure causing stars to explode in my vision.

"'People like you' who have never experienced the paaain of living in the real world," he leaned more heavily onto me against the wall, blade still pressed just under my ribs, "'People like you' who have never known the suffering of—"

"You don't know me." I whispered furiously. Interrupted, he turned his head sharply, looking at me critically out of the corner of his eye. He yanks my chin down so that I had to look up at him.

His scars smiling for him he observes in an enlightened way, "Ohh… Maybe Goldie Locks has already met her big. Bad. Wol-fuh. Hm?" His sour breath is washing over me in hot waves; a hint of a smile reached his eyes, my mouth rippled in a frown as I swallowed thickly. There was a chuckle somewhere to our left and I was suddenly dreadfully aware of the other men in the room again. They had disappeared from my mind completely but you can hardly blame me. Until that moment I was much too involved with my dilemma at hand to really care about anything else but him and myself. The way he was hassing me must have been comical to his men. Bastards.

"Well, whatever happened in your precious little uh… past will have to wait because I think you have a few more important things to worry about right now. I know all about your upcoming appearance on the boob tube. I think you know what I want to happen."

I struggle again, reminding myself bitterly of Rachel while she was still conscious, and I frown in utter confusion. It's so hard to think when you're being assaulted and shouted so close to your face.

"Huh.. Maybe you don't. I thought you were smarter, babe. I won't lie. I'm a little disappointed," he says with a teasing 'tisk, tisk' tone of voice. Before I could open my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his 'disappointment', he plowed on, "I don't care what you do, tell the truth, spin me a tall tale. I luh-hu-vve stories. Honestly, I don't give a flying rat's ass. All I need you to do is make sure that Harvey doesn't get elected to be Gotham's new, honored D.A."

My frown turned into a scowl. I preferred confusion to the sordid bull shit spilling out of his scarred face.

"Make. Him. Look ba-duh." Each word was punctuated with a forced nod of my head. His grip on my jaw was becoming incredibly painful and his knife has somehow wandered up to my right cheek. I taste blood from the cuts my own teeth have carved into the maw.

"You get to play the part of the spiteful little sister. Doesn't sound too different than the usual you?" He slammed me again into the sheet rock I was already pressed to. Stars are all I can see again. He really loves doing that, doesn't he? "The only thing is: you can't tell them your working for me or else… they both die."

"Bu-but they'll hate me!"

He throws his head back and cackles. "Yep," he says between hoots, "that's the pl-an! It's either this or you don't have them at all."

I'm so glad your enjoying my misery. "I can't do that! You're insane!" I shout over his piercing laughter.

His hyena-like barking stops in an instant and I regret my accusation that very moment. By the look of death he gives me with his kohl-lined eyes I know what I just said was the absolute worst thing I could have ever uttered in his presence. He launches me to the side where I hit the rough, office carpet with bone shattering force. Without warning he dives down on top of me and straddles my hips, no, sits on my pelvis and before I can even react he takes his switchblade and plunges it straight down into my left shoulder. I shriek in agony and surprise. All lucid thoughts vanish from my brain completely. There is only pain. His purple, leather palm in presses hard into my throat to hold me down and he twists the blade and drags it out of my deltoid excruciatingly slowly. I writhe and grab for my fervently gushing muscle in vain. Hyperventilate is too weak a word for what my body is doing at this point. My vision is completely white and my ears are ringing.

His cheek presses against mine and he seethes into my ear, "I'm not. Insane." He exhales hotly on my neck and my eyes unfocus and roll back in my head making my eyelids waver. "Now, where's your wallet?" I feel his textured cheek form a wicked smirk against my own. "I need to steal it."

"… Uh…" is the only sound I can make. Hot blood is poring over my fingers where they press over my fresh wound. Chuckling lowly he gropes into all my pockets, at least, I think that's what he's doing. I also think that he tosses my cell phone into the wall. I still can't focus on anything except my slightly twitching arm. He gives up after checking every pocket in my suit but he does a double take at my necklace. It's gold and it was my mother's. Fingering it he looks into my eyes, that inhuman smile of his spreading wider every second, yellow fangs showing like a fiend. I force my nerves to obey and shake my head 'no'.

"P-please… do… n't" I choke out, grabbing feebly for his wrist. My hand is sticky with my own blood. When did everything go so wrong?

"Hah. Shouldn't have said anything, doll face." He purrs and yanks it thin chain from my neck. I cry out, tears spring to my already pouring eyes. I didn't realize that would hurt, too, though I can't really feel much else than my throbbing shoulder. "Have to make this con-vin-cing, don't we?" He gives me a once over and looks off to the side for a flash in thought. "Oh! That's right!" He grabs my lapels but stops and gives my "I believe in Harvey Dent" button a look of disdain. He rips it off and throws it across the room hitting one of his goons in the leg. Gigging, he gives me a brief smirk, his face a little too close for comfort, he returns to my lapels and rips them apart, popping my first few buttons. What the hell is he doing?

He gets up and walks over me awkwardly. Thankfully, he seems to be done with me. Done being so close that I can't breathe. Done putting me though the worse physical pain I've ever felt. I take this time alone to curl myself into a little ball and sob. I'm still clutching onto my shoulder for dear life so I roll onto the side that doesn't rub my injury into the carpet. This also means that I can't see the Joker or anyone because I'm facing the wall. Did I mention that I'm not productive when I panic?

I hear the voice I've come to hate call back to me, "Ah! Found your wallet, Miss Carley-Charley! It was in your purse. Imagine that." I can hear him lick his lips from across the room. I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend not to hear him. I just hope he thinks I've fainted or something. I hear the men tromping around the office, destroying things. Then I see my cell phone sitting in the shallow puddle of blood I've leaked onto the floor. I need to call the police. Right now. Slowly I reach for my phone trying to move too quickly and I punch in the infamous '911.' But I don't pick it up to my face. I whisper but I know they can hear me. "We need help in Dent's office. ASAP."

Foot steps behind me tell me that someone there. A big shoe steps over me and stomps on my phone, it beeps, flustered, and crunches and when the foot lifts the phone is unrecognizable. The Joker squats down touches my wounded deltoid (I flinch at his touch and moan in pain. I'm sure he enjoys that.) and turns me towards him. "Look at me. Hey," His voice is rough. A pink tongue slips out momentarily, "I heard that little phone call but it's okay because that's what I wanted you to do. When they get here just tell the police that you were robbed. 'Cause it's not a lie. You really were!" He laughs at this. He seems to do that at the worst possible times. "Just don't tell 'em about our little uh… talk. Oh, and I'm not sure if you should show up at the T.V. studio looking like that." He pokes me in the knife-hole with his finger as hard as he can. As I whimper desperately, I faintly hear him galumphing away. And of course he's laughing.

There's a joker card in front of me. Again. It says on it in fat, black letters:

WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T TELL ANYONE

I shudder and start crying again. And I deeply resent myself for it. GPD are on their way. I don't have to think anymore. Now I can finally let myself do what I've wanted to for the last ten minutes. Pass out. Goodbye reality. I would say it was nice to meet you, but then I would be lying.

Just before I faint, an 'Alice in Wonderland' quote echoes in my mind over lapping onto itself as my mind slips.

"After this I should think nothing of falling down stairs."

Welcome to daily life in Gotham City, Carley Dent. It gets a lot worse from here on out.