-1Author's note: Hmm let's see, big thank you to my Beta, SecretStrangeAngel, thank you to my reviews, I loved hearing from you and still do. Thankyou to the 20 someodd people who added this to your alerts. Enjoy and please review to tell me what you think, I love hearing from you! Oh and you might have noticed I have changed my penname from PirateStorm to Jokester666.

Chapter Two- The Devil Named Joker

The Joker closed the door with a faint thud, his dark eyes fixed on her as she backed against the wall. The lock and chain were set in seconds, and he grinned like a rabid jackal.

"Why! What a cozy little retreat we have here." He surveyed the room, his dark eyes falling on her mahogany work desk. She had left the lamp on and it shone brightly down on the clutter of drawings that seemed to make up the majority of the desk. She couldn't see what had caught his attention until she stepped closer. One of her suit drawings hadn't been put in the portfolio properly and was hanging off the table. She almost sighed in relief that she hadn't finished that drawing with the painted red grin, but tensed up again as he handled the drawing with his gloved hands.

"Lookie here! I found a little artist!" he chortled, his eyes skimming over the drawing, "What a lovely job you do, too." The Joker had picked up one of the folders, sat down on one of her kitchen chairs and propped his feet on the mahogany table. He was about to begin flipping through the sketches when he noticed she hadn't moved.

"Whatcha waiting for, doll?" he questioned. "Go change into something more

comfortable." His gloved hands shooed her off. He then winked at her. "Unless you need some help, in which case I would be more than willing to assist you."

It was those last lewd words that gave Andrea the motive to move away from him and her drawings. She hustled out of the living room and into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. Leaning against it, she wondered what the hell he wanted with her. He couldn't have known she was the designer, could he? But of course, as soon as he opened the portfolio, he would know that she had at least some sort of sick fascination with his grin. She looked around, worried that he might somehow be there, and made a mad dash to the bedside telephone. The silence that greeted her when she lifted the receiver to her ear informed her that he had cut the connection. The bastard! Slamming the phone back down in its cradle, she glared at the door angrily.

Deciding to get out of the purple dress, which ever since the elevator ride had reminded her of their taste in colors, Andrea stepped towards her closet, pulling out a pair of loose black pants, a fitted white tank top and dark orange open sweater. She had paused when she came to the sweater, but a chill was in the air and despite being a fashion designer, she was terrible at making sure all her clothes were washed and ready to go. So, of course, she was stuck with colors and clothes she didn't normally wear around company. If the Joker could be called company, of course.

Andrea let her dark brown hair out of its elegant bun, releasing the curls which fell past her shoulders and down her back in soft waves. Leaving her room, Andrea's bare feet met the carpet of the living room. She spotted the Joker immediately. He had abandoned her drawings on the coffee table in a neat pile and was now flipping through channels with a bored look set on his scarred face.

The Joker looked up at her and gave the jackal grin again. "You clean up nice, doll." He stood, and she instinctively stepped back.

"Well, that just won't do," he said, striding lightly towards her, grasping both of her shoulders. He forced her to turn to him, his eyes seeming to bore into her soul.

"What do you want from me?" she hissed, staring up at him.

"What I want? What I want?" He let go of her and swung around the room. "Well, my face on a one dollar bill would be nice. But for now, I'd like you to draw a suit for me." She looked interested now. Or, at least, the fear was absent from her pretty little face. He liked the challenging gleam that came to her eyes when the suit was mentioned.

"A suit?" She questioned, stepping cautiously towards where her sketch pad usually was. Looking down at the desk, she frowned. It wasn't there. She turned to him, hands on her hips. His mouth was twisted into a slight smile as he offered the pad of paper to her. With a huff she accepted. She pulled out a pencil before sitting down on the couch. She had already automatically began sketching out the main body frame when her gaze went to the coffee table.

There it was, the missing drawing.

Her hand stopped moving, creating a unsightly blotch where she had ceased to draw. She felt him lean over the couch behind her, his face inches away from hers. "It's yours, isn't it?"

Andrea got up from the couch, and stood at her window, back to the madman that dominated the living room with his presence.

He came up behind her as Andrea stared into the night, their reflection in the glass looking back at them.

"It's rather odd that you're not afraid of me, but I'm not going to hurt you, just as long as you give me what I want."

He had pulled her dark brown tresses to one side with light fingers, leaning close, breathing his words in her ear. She stared straight ahead, seeing him watching her face in the window.

"And what is that? Other then your face on the dollar bill?" Andrea commented dryly.

His eyes sparkled as he stepped back. "Oh, sugar doll! I want to rule Gotham City! Before I set those plans in motion, Andy Dandy, I need some adjustments on my suit here. My tailor just didn't seem to have the time." He giggled, and Andrea thought she could guess why the tailor didn't have the time – he was probably six feet under!

"Secondly, doll, I need a place to stay, and what better place then here? You, my dear, are the all elusive Andrea Masque. Your name itself radiates that fact. It also helps that people say you designed the term 'Ice Queen'!" He smiled crazily at her reflection, flopping down on the couch. Andrea continued to look forward into the glass, waiting for him to continue.

"Once I rule this city, and that won't take too long, I'm going to need someone to take around; to be a poster girl for the new Gotham, if you will. And as you proved tonight, you make wonderful…"

She cut him off, "Arm candy."

The Joker cocked his head at her, "Why yes!" He came up behind her again, lurking at her shoulder. "What do ya think?"

Andrea turned her head towards him, arms still crossed. "What's in it for me?"

Shadows played across his face, his dark eyes studying her. He then turned away and seemed to glide through the room, twirling his knife about. "Why! You get to keep your life, have your own little label or whatever if is you designers do, and best of all, you won't have to take all of those silly little orders from that Milo!"

She turned his way, frowning. "How do you know about Milo?"

He waved his arm about, "He's the one I got the drawing from. Needless to say, under my careful questioning, he was quite willing to hand over every detail about you, little Miss Andy Dandy."

Andrea thought back to the day Milo had seen her sketching the suits. He had come by to drop off a request for a movie they were costuming. That was just a week after the first attack. Now that she thought on it, the drawing had gone missing around that time, too.

"I'm employed by one of the biggest fashion companies in Gotham City. I am the Masque of Green Fashion, Joker. So why would I need you?" She watched him through narrowed eyes, not liking where this conversation was going one bit.

"Then why haven't they given you your own label? Sure, you drive a Mercedes, wear some smashing clothes, have a quaint apartment on the nice side of town, and might I ask? What do you have to show for it? Other then that little greeting card?" He tilted his head, smiling as he did so.

The Joker knew he was twisting her around his finger. It was just taking longer then expected, but he would be patient. He would have to be: he needed her. She knew the ins and outs of every joint in Gotham City, she had access to the highest security buildings. This little Andy Dandy could get into any place in this city, simply because of who she was.

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

Andrea moved silently to the door, opened it and quietly said, "Get out."

The Joker stood, his tall leering presence mocking her. He paused just as he was about to exit, handing her a card. "Here's my card when you start taking things seriously." And with that he left.

She closed the door with a soft click, locked it and put the chain in place. Not that any of those things would hold out the Joker. Andrea held up the card and a wry chuckle escaped. It was a Joker. Obviously this guy either had a share in a card company, bought a lot of decks, or got the old casino cards. She checked for the punched hole that signalled they had been used by a casino, but there was none, so she presumed it must have been one of her former assumptions.

Andrea placed the card in one of the drawers of her desk, nest to an old antique deck that was very dear to her, before sitting down on the plush couch. Bringing her knees up to her face, Andrea contemplated what she was going to do. She really ought to call the police, but her cell was downstairs in the front seat of the car, and with the lines cut… there wasn't much she could do.

She didn't want to bother the neighbours, they asked too many questions. As it was, Andrea wasn't on best terms with some of the occupants of the apartment building. She played loud music, and due to that, had already gotten a fine from the ever nosy Mrs. Phillips.

She bit her lip and got up, heading to the linen closet. For some reason she really didn't want to stay in her room tonight. There was just something about tonight that made her feel that something terrible was going to happen. She pulled out a warm blanket and paused to turn the heat up, along with hitting the on button for the electric fireplace.

Andrea curled up on the couch, staring into the faux flames that rippled away behind the glass. Slowly sleep conquered her and she drifted off.

…there were bright lights and a walkway, just like the ones she saw the models wearing her designs prowl down. It was empty and she was the only audience member except for a dark figure seated beside her. She couldn't see his features, and yet she was so sure it was a man. She wasn't afraid of him, not yet, but there was something most disturbing about his presence.

Suddenly, people began walking down the runway wearing her suits. Those brightly colored jackets with matching pants. And then there he was… wearing that jackal grin, and modeling the orange lined, green and purple suit set. Suddenly, the lights went out and all she could see was the figure beside her. He was suddenly on top of her, his face leering down, mocking her with words.

"What do you have to show for it? Other then that little greeting card?" He asked, holding his knife to the side of her pale face.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and she struggled against him, trying to push him away. He was just to strong, and she felt the metal bite into her skin, slashing its way down the side of her face, down her neck…