It seemed my presence alone must have been annoying him, because I only sat for five, quiet, still minutes before he told me to get lost again.

I heard him talking to someone on the phone as I strolled out into the hallway once more. I wandered back to the room I'd woken in, and familiarized myself with it. The dresser/vanity was bare and, surprisingly, clean. I tried each of the drawers, only to find every one empty. I stood in front of the full length mirror—the old fashioned kind with the legs so you can twist and turn it. I twirled in front of it for a moment, goofing around, before I recalled my friend stashed away in my pocket.

I wrestled up my sweatshirt to the pocket of my hoodie and fished out my piece and lighter. As I lit it and took a hit, I glanced back to the mirror. The reflecting image unsettled me. How had I come this far? I started out with an almost consistently comfortable life, and a hell of a lot of potential. Now I'm standing in some deserted house—the Joker's head quarters—smoking pot, and waiting for something exciting to happen. Seriously, what the fuck? And, sure enough, an instant later my thoughts turned to:

I wonder how hard it would be to score some pot around here.

OoOoOoOoOoO

I had discovered a hairbrush sitting by the sink in the adjoining bathroom. I inspected it carefully and decided it looked clean enough. Therefore, I was standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom brushing my hair when he entered.

He was humming some tune unfamiliar to me, and I was slightly shocked (but secretly pleased) when his arms wrapped around my middle. He pulled me back against him and brought his lips to my ear.

"Ready for some fun, gorgeous?" He pushed his lips beneath my ear, and a shiver ran from the top of my skull to the back of my heels. He laughed softly. "I take it that's a yes."

"What are we doing?" I murmured, fighting to stay coherent while his fingers were coaxing me into a stupor. They swirled in complex patterns across my stomach.

"Inconsequential," he responded, pulling away. "Get your shoes on, we're leaving."

"Where are we going?" I tried, plopping down on the mattress and pulling on my shoes.

"Don't know yet," he laughed when I stared at him.

"Isn't that a crucial part of the plan?" I asked him, standing up and following him down the stairs.

"What makes you think I have a plan?"

Finally frustrated by his unhelpful answers, I followed him silently out the back door and into a van.

There were two other men in the back of the van with us, and both were wearing clown masks and wielding deadly looking guns. I eyed them warily, and Joker noticed.

"Ever fire a real one?" he asked me, indicating the semi-automatics.

"No," I smiled, shaking my head. "Can't say I've ever had the chance."

"Well," he started, digging into a duffel bag next to him. "Your luck is about to change." He handed me a mass of metal, and I twisted it in my arms for a minute before finding a comfortable way to hold it. Even then, I wasn't getting it right, because the clowns across from me were looking at each other, and the clown next to me was staring at my hands, smiling.

Trying my best not to feel embarrassed, I took a seat in the corner of the van. The Joker sat in the corner adjacent to me, gazing at me through dark rings. "How old are you, sweet cheeks?"

I frowned at the derogatory pet name. "Do you know my name?" I couldn't recall ever giving it to him, though I was sure if he had found my apartment he had discovered my identity.

"What does that matter?"

The clowns across from me laughed. I continued staring into the Joker's eyes; he didn't give any reaction to the laughter, looking at me intently.

Something passed between us and I understood it all perfectly. He was warning me; he could call me what he wanted, when he wanted, he was in charge, I needn't ask questions, and nothing meant anything unless he thought so.

It was the most insightful and knowledgeable ten seconds of my life.

"I'm twenty-one," I answered softly.

"Been out of high school a few years, then," he stated, and he crossed over to kneel in front of me.

"Yeah…seems like longer," I told him as he pulled the gun out of my hands.

He repositioned the weapon, wrapping my hands in the appropriate places. "Ever want to go back?" he asked. As he spoke, the van pulled to a stop.

He obviously didn't want an answer from me, because he was dialing a number on a cell phone. "Secure? Right."

He snapped the phone shut and turned to the other two men. "You know what to do," he stated. They each nodded once. "Go-uhh," he commanded softly.

They each hopped out of the van and swung the doors shut. I got a glimpse of the drive-around at the front entrance to my old high school, and suddenly realized what was going on. I turned to him, and he smiled. I knew my eyes were wide, and I tried to conceal my shock, but when I heard him laugh I knew there was no hiding it. I was alarmed, scared. What were we doing here?

He reached over and hit something on the gun. "Safety," he reminded me, his voice mocking. "Relax, beautiful," he urged, running a finger down my jaw line slowly. "You're too cute for worry lines."

He moved past me and swung the doors open once again, motioning me out. I followed him, but before we took three steps he stopped and spun around, whipping out a clown mask similar to the ones his goons were wearing. "Might want to slip that on," he suggested, and I did. My blonde locks were pulled back into a ponytail, but my bangs still fell over my eyes. The mask pushed the hair against my forehead, reaching to below my eyes.

It felt odd walking through the high school hallways once again; partly because the hallways were completely deserted. This would have been normal any school day during class time, but today there were no stragglers. No bathroom breakers, no ditchers, no janitors, no teachers. We walked down the hallway, his steps sharp and confident, mine fumbling and unsure. The soles of our shoes slapped across the linoleum and echoed off of the pale walls. No lessons or lectures drifted into the hall to meet us as we passed the classrooms. The only sounds were our shoes, and the clanking of metal on metal as the Joker ran his hand along the padlocks on the wall of lockers. I looked around as we walked. The blue lockers didn't seem to have as many chips and imperfections. They must have painted in the last two years.

We continued on until we reached the office. He swung the door open and strolled in, me following swiftly behind. Instinctively, I shut the door and looked around. There were two clowns standing in the office, guns pointed at the secretary and the principal. I felt bad for poor Mrs. Worthers. You'd think being sixty and answering phones for a school couldn't possibly land you in a hostage situation. She sat at her chair now, but her eyes were closed and her lips were moving silently. One hand was fisted at her throat, and I knew she was clutching the small silver cross that she always wore.

I was distracted from Mrs. Worthers by the Joker's voice over the intercom. "Good afternoon South Gotham High," he greeted jovially. "As I'm sure you've noticed by now, each classroom has a, uh, special visitor. Don't be afraid, they're here to help you learn."

I studied the principal. I knew him by picture, but not by name. He started here the year after I left. He was of average height and slightly overweight. He wore a cheesy jacket over a cheap button up shirt. His slacks were too short, exposing two different black socks and out-of-date brown leather shoes. I could feel myself sneering in disgust. The fucking principal of the school, and he goes to work looking like that? I watched as he wiped his sweaty forehead and adjusted his collar. The clown next to him nudged him with his gun in disapproval, and he instantly settled his nervous fidgeting.

"If you could all just sit tight and let my boys do their job, things will go a lot easier. I've got to make a phone call to the mayor now, if you'll all excuse me. It's a fairly important matter."

His laugh was cut off as he switched off the intercom, and he was still laughing as he picked up the phone and dialed a number.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and I jumped. The next sounds were loud cracks as my gun fired, and a piercing scream (Mrs. Worthers, I figured); it was as if the gun controlled my arms. They swung around violently. Bullets shattered through the glass windows at the front of the office, right next to the door. I decided that I didn't like this kind of gun.

When all was quiet for a moment, I chanced a glance to the Joker. He was staring at my incredulously, the phone still to his ear.

"What the hell?" the clown responsible for startling me asked angrily.

"I can't see anything!" I defended myself, shifting the mask on my face. "My hair is in my eyes."

The Joker continued to stare, but soon started speaking into the phone. "May-yer puhleeease," he requested. "Mister Mayor! Good to hear from ya. Your pal, Joker, here, if you didn't know. So, I'm at the high school right now, and I'm a bit disappointed with the level of the test scores here. I've researched the students and teachers and decided that there's just no hope in bringing them up," he sounded distraught, and I was glad that the mask covered my smile. "But good news, Mayor, good news for you, because I've decided to take this little problem…off of your hands. I'll just go ahead and blow up the school, and we can start again from scratch."

He nudged the receptionist and she jumped up from her chair and scuttled to the corner. Joker sat down and leaned back, resting his feet on the desk. He looked comfortable, cool and confident, and I found myself both jealous and turned on. Turned on. How could someone make this look hot? I shook the thoughts out and tried to focus on his words so I would know what was going down.

"Oops, one second, Mayor," he covered the mouthpiece and turned to the door, suddenly remembering the other clown that had come in. "What's the status?"

"All set."

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Get them out," he didn't wait for a response before he turned away and put the phone back up to his ear. "Now I've just been informed that there's a bomb in every classroom. (There was a terrified sob from Mrs. Worthers) I'm going to blow up this school and everyone in it iiinnnnnn…thirty minutes. I suggest you get Gotham's finest over here quickly if there's any hope in saving these kids. Oh," he added, almost as an afterthought, "oh, and I've forgotten which high school I'm at, so you might want to send a few officers to each one just to be safe. Great day, Mayor."

He dropped the phone onto the receiver and stood, giving a slow stretch. Come on toots, boys, we're outta here."

The power cut as we made our way out. There was a clown in the entryway rigging something up. I glanced at him curiously as we passed.

"Rigging the exits," the breathed next to me, and a hand came to rest on my lower back as we walked out to the van. "Good job keeping your cool."

I pulled the mask off and tried to pretend that the flush that rested in my cheeks was from the heat, and not from embarrassment. "He startled me. My finger slipped. I couldn't see," I rattled off the excuses quickly, and I could tell he wasn't interested. Before we got into the van he stopped me and flipped the safety back on. I scowled, and he pushed me into the van.

"No time to waste. This place is blowing in a few."

"I thought you said thirty minutes?" I asked as I shifted around and made myself comfortable on the floor.

"Yeah…" he said slowly, taking a seat next to me. "Bad memory, you see. It's the mall that's going to blow in thirty minutes. The school goes in five."

I thought about that. Searching every high school in a city of 10 million people. They could never find the school in time, and while they were there looking for survivors, the mall would blow up halfway across town. It was horrific, but genius. I almost smiled, but stopped myself.

We didn't travel for long. Just a few turns later I was being directed out of the van and into a very tall building. We were in what looked to be the lobby of some office building, and everyone stood frozen, gaping at our small group.

"Don't mind us," the Joker said loudly, walking over to the elevators. "Just here for the view," he jabbed the call button to the elevator, and the doors opened instantly. "Oh, and the policemen are a little busy right now, so I wouldn't bother them."

We stepped into the service elevator, which seemed smaller than a regular elevator. With our group of five, I felt very claustrophobic. I was sandwiched between the driver, behind me, and the Joker, right in front and face to face with me. My heart hammered against his chest, he looked down at me, smirking. I was just trying not to kiss him.

We finally made it to the top, and step out and right up to a set of stairs. We took them up and, since I had somehow managed to come out front, I had the pleasure of pushing the heavy door to the rooftop. The driver of our van stood behind me, and leaned passed me to push a hand against it. It groaned open and I slipped through, smiling my thanks.

The men pulled off their masks as they filed out onto the roof, and my stomach flopped as I realized that I hadn't worn mine inside the building. What if they got footage of me? Could I be found out? I almost panicked and threw myself off of the building. But then I remembered who was standing next to me, and my nerves settled. Who was to mess with me while I was in the Joker's good favor?

But then, that was if I was in the Joker's good favor. If the last two days had shown me anything it was that the Joker was inconsistent. Consistently so.

I almost didn't notice his arm around my shoulder as he guided me to the edge of the roof. I glanced down, stories away from the pavement, and gulped. The Joker's arm dropped from my shoulders to my waist and pulled me closer, whispering in my ear, "Don't worry, I won't let you fall," I felt myself automatically easing at the sound of his voice, soft and protective. Then he nipped my earlobe before breathing darkly, "Unless I decide to push you." I pulled out of his grasp slowly and put a couple feet between us; he just laughed maniacally.

Then an explosion ripped through the city, and flames erupted half a mile in front of us, at the high school. I wondered if any police men had gotten any people out, and realized that they probably hadn't even arrived. I also recalled that all of the entries had been rigged to blow.

Joker just gave an insane cackle, jumping up and down as he watched. We didn't stay long. Soon the Joker was ushering me back down the stairs, and into the cramped service lift, through the lobby and back to the van. We drove quickly for a few moments, and then pulled up in front of a hotel.

"You want to get a room now?" I teased, jabbing his stomach playfully. He snatched my wrist in an almost painful vice, but smiled at me.

It was the same routine as he went directly to the service lift up to the roof. This elevator was bigger, giving us more space between us. At one point, I began to lose feeling in my hand. I yanked out of his grasp, and while I was busy inspecting and rubbing my wrist, his hand wrapped around my throat and pinned me to the wall. His men didn't react in the least, and I had no choice but to stare directly into his fiery gaze.

"I don't like this attitude you've developed," he ground out darkly. "And I don't like how quickly it set in. You've gotten too comfortable too fast, doll face. And when we get back you're gonna prove your worth."

I was saved by the doors opening with a soft swoosh, for the Joker peeled himself off of me quickly and walked out onto the roof. I followed a few feet behind him, and when he stopped at the edge, I only hesitated for a second before stepping up next to him.

He didn't look at me, but his expression still looked sour, annoyed. I chewed my lip for a moment while I thought. Then I gave a small smile and asked, "So how many bombs did you end up with?"

The corners of his lips twitched, but he stared straight ahead darkly. "Two hundred and eighty-four."

I gave a low whistle, shaking my head. I was thinking of something else to say, when a rumble shook through our building. My head snapped up to the dark plumes of smoke about a mile away. For a moment we couldn't see anything, and then the dust settled and you could see flames licking at the rubble. A parking lot of hundreds of abandoned cars stretched out beyond the destruction, and instead of feeling horribly guilty, a sick satisfaction settled in my core.

I glanced beside me, and he had relaxed visibly, the ghost of a smile on his painted face.

"Look at that," I breathed softly in admiration. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him smile. And then, seconds later, he weaved his fingers between mine softly.

OoOoOoOoOoO

That's it for now… feel free to send me reviews and really let me know what you think! Nothing inspires me to keep at it more than people telling me what works and what doesn't. And if I ever slip out of character for the Joker, please let me know right away.

I really couldn't resist the hand-holding at the end here. It just seemed like a perfect moment for the two of them, and even though it seems really gentle and lovey-dovey, I like to throw in a few moments of that here and there so when he goes off the handle it makes him look even crazier. Bye guys! Hope to update soon!