Disclaimer: I own nothing but Ms. Victoria Simon. Shame.

As the door closed behind the Joker's lithe frame, the pianist flew from the stage, scrambled across the floor, and fell to her knees next to Bruce Wayne. "Mr. Wayne," she began in concern, "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine, Ms. Simon," assured Bruce, slowly reaching a hand to apply pressure to his neck. A trickle of blood leaked from where the Joker had injected him. "It's you I'm concerned about. Just as much as the Joker is known to uphold his threats, he makes good on his offhand promises."

A shadow of fear crossed her elegant features, but she bravely waved away his comment. "Thank you for your concern Mr. Wayne, we'll deal with that a little later. Let's get you fixed up – should it be Alfred that I'm looking for?" she asked worriedly as she helped him to his feet, steadying his swaying form and then easing him into a nearby chair.

"Yes, Alfred will take it from here. Looks like he'll be back in any minute," he added as the frightened guests began edging back into the room. There were marginally less of them than there had originally been, the majority having scattered after the Joker had swept out. In a manner that showed that the trust in him was well placed, Alfred was in the room and next to Bruce's side in a flash. He assessed the damage and helped his employer and friend to his feet.

"Easy, Master Wayne. We'll have you up and about in no time." As he reached to help the mogul stand up, Bruce remembered the threat of danger and turned to the musician. Alfred paused, before turning to dismiss the rest of the guests in a classy gesture, and allow Bruce and the performer to converse. Alfred politely issued a promise for a better evening to the patrons … assuming, that is, that any of them would wish to return after the night's fiasco.

"Ms. Simon – the Joker's comment … at the very least, I'd like to call you a police escort to accompany you home."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, it's much appreciated." She swallowed, scared but trying to mask it. Bruce smiled kindly.

"Not to worry, they'll ensure your safety. It's the least I can do after such a beautiful performance. I'm sorry it ended with such a catastrophe, and that you had to play an encore … under duress."

Her eyes twinkled. "As strange as this sounds, I found it quite amusing, as did … he." Bruce chuckled.

"It was a risky move, but you did well. I'll make sure you're compensated for that. If you're willing, I would be honored if you'd play at one of my functions again."

"Hey, as a musician, every gig is a bonus," she joked. "Thank you."

--

The Joker hopped out of the still-moving van, skipping with satisfaction. "Deliver instructions … check!" He had made a fun evening out of an incredibly mundane task, and he was beyond pleased with himself. His good mood lasted as his men unlocked the heavily chained front doors of the hideout, it held up as he scaled the several flights of stairs to his chambers, and was still going strong as he threw open the door and strode into one of his spacious rooms. Then, as he swung himself into his chair, it abruptly fizzled out. He chewed his lip, disconcerted. He had delivered the instructions to Bruce Wayne, and now … he had three days to kill. Now what? It's not like he could terrorize Gotham – that would put him on bad terms with the Bat before their big meeting. It would screw up everything he had been working towards. But it would be so much fun … no. Unmasking the Bat would be much more pleasurable. Gotham would have to wait. And consequently, so would he. Shit. The Joker despised waiting.

Irritated, he rustled through his pockets reflexively. They were bound to hold something that would amuse him … He pulled out one of his knives, cleaning it on his vest. Absently, he carved a demented smiley face into the surface of his table. Then, he picked it up and threw it at the wall, where it landed with a satisfying thud. Well, that was fun. Shame it only lasted two fucking minutes!

His frustration increasing, his hands searched his pockets again. Clenching his fists in anger, he was startled when they closed around a thick piece of paper. Right, he had impulsively pocketed that at Wayne Manor. Heh, a little reading material. His interest piqued, he drew it out and studied it. The heavy cream paper proclaimed:

'An Evening With Bruce Wayne, in support of the Gotham General Hospital Foundation, featuring renowned piano/vocalist Victoria Simon.'

Ah. Ah. Bingo.

"Victoria," he mouthed. "Tori."

There … there was his source of amusement for the next three days. Problem solved. Appear at her house? No, too predictable. He had a better idea.

Whirling out of the room, he banged his way down two flights of stairs and into what was best described as a living room. Two of his men were sprawled on a couch, lazily watching the flickering television. The Joker cleared his throat, and they both sprang up in fear.

"Just you," he beckoned to one of them. Barely suppressing a whimper, the man followed, the other clearly deflating with relief. The Joker allowed the man to follow him down the hall, then abruptly turned around, grabbed his shoulder and slammed him into the wall. He regarded the man intensely.

"Hey, buddy, got a little job for you. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt ya, I'm in a good mood. Trust me, its easy stuff." His eyes never leaving the trembling man's, he forced the thick paper into his hand.

"Find out where she's playing next. I want the name of the place, and I want a seat. Come and find me when you're done." He released the man, and disappeared to his rooms once more. He threw himself into his chair, tapping his foot impatiently. Impressively, his man was back within five minutes, as he should have been. Good mood or not, no one dared to keep him waiting.

"So?" he asked impatiently, rising to his feet in anticipation.

"Its tomorrow night," his henchman replied tentatively, "Here's the name of the place and the directions. Your ticket's on its way."

The Joker's eyes lit up. "Tomorrow?" he screeched, clapping his hands together and throwing his head back with a giggle. "Tomorrow?" His cracked smile widened, and more giggles bubbled up out of his throat as he reached for a small piece of paper and a pen. The man stood there awkwardly as the Joker shifted his weight from foot to foot, leaning awkwardly over the desk and laughing sporadically as he scribbled something onto the paper. Sauntering over to the henchman, he patted his head.

"Good job, now, get this – " he handed a small, folded note to the man – "Into her piano. Kill the delivery guy, steal his uniform, whatever. That's all," he finished, patting him on the head again and shooing him out. The guy was visibly relieved, recognizing that he had gotten off easy. His heels were barely off of the threshold when the Joker slammed the huge door shut behind him. Running the length of the room, the Joker threw himself into the far wall with a squeal of delight. Laughing maniacally at the sick thud, he savored the marriage of pain and pleasure as he slid to the ground. His spine-tingling laughs could be heard echoing throughout the entire building.

Looked like the next few days wouldn't be so boring after all.

A/N: Thank you so much for reviewing. So many of the reviews have commented on specific aspects of the story, and I love it. Keep 'em coming - what you love, what you'd like to see happen, what you don't find so hot, etc. Thank you guys for your motivation!!