Secrets

The night of Hannah's dress rehearsal was an endless blur of disasters. Costumes did not fit, the dancers were offbeat, and Hannah's endless stream of demands never stopped.

"You!" she shouted at a passing assistant, "Get me a smoothie!"

"You! This scarf is the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life. Burn it!"

"You! Get my agent on the phone NOW!" Hannah slammed the door of her dressing room behind her and slumped before her giant mirror, "Why can't everyone just do what I ask of them?"

Hannah removed her wig, becoming Miley once more, "And this wig friggin' sucks."

With a slight creak, Miley's dressing room door opened and a man entered the room. Miley spun around, her wig clutched in her hands, and stared at the man. His blond hair waved crazily around his eyes that were now widened with shock, and one of his hands covered his mouth.

"GET OUT!" screamed Miley, throwing a bottle of perfume at the intruder, "You saw nothing, understand? Nothing!"

The man nodded, eyes wide, and stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him. As he walked away, he removed his hand from his face, revealing a scarred smile that stretched from ear to ear. The Joker could not believe his luck. Hannah Montana? A fake? It was almost too good to be true.

Joker skipped down the hallway humming slightly. He had known that Hannah was a good target from the moment he had overheard that pompous agent arguing with her on the phone last week.

With a little twirl, Joker grabbed the shoulder of a passing dancer and steered him into an empty dressing room.

"What the hell man," the dancer snarled, "I'm on in five!"

"Oh, don't you worry," the Joker said, licking his lips and facing the dancer, "I'm pretty sure they won't miss you…at all."

The dancer yelled at the sight of the clown's face, but Joker clamped a hand over the dancer's mouth.

"Now, now, now," Joker said sternly, "Do you really wanna do that?"

In a flash, a knife was at the dancer's throat.

"I didn't think so," Joker chuckled, "Now, what would little, uh, dancer boy's name be, hm?"

"Chris," the dancer whimpered.

"Ok Chris. I'm Joker. Now we know each other. We're almost…like friends, you could say."

Chris's eyes widened as Joker pulled him closer.

"And friends do each other favors, right?"

Chris nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off Joker's blade.

"First favor. Information. When is Hannah's," Joker giggled, "final performance?"

"F…F…Friday," Chris gasped when the knife cut into his neck.

"Excellent. You're doing great. Second. How many people know about, uh, Miss Montana's secret."

Chris's face contorted in confusion, and Joker could see that the dancer did not know anything about Hannah's "secret identity".

"Never mind. Then I need to ask another favor of you…Chris, and then I'll let you go do you're little thing."

Chris relaxed noticeably at the mention of his attacker's disappearance, and the Joker's smile widened until the tips of his scars were almost touching his ears.

"I need you," Joker said, his lips at Chris's ear, "to, uh, die."

Chris's face blanched and his eyes looked as if they would pop.

Joker frowned, "Why so serious?"