Three hours of sleep. That was all that Clara managed to get before waking up, a violent jerk disturbing her slumber. With a deep groan somewhere within her chest, she peered her bloodshot eyes open, taking in a wet, naked man crouched in front of her. Apparently, the Joker did have a shower and now grinned at the woman like a madman, white, straight teeth bared in a nothing-good-promising smile.

"Hone-y-y-y? Are ya awake?" Jack's dark brown eyes met murderous grey gaze, accentuated by the red colour around.

"Apparently I am, sweet pea." She rolled on her other side, away from the man, tugging the covers over her head in an attempt to block out both the light, hurting her sensitive eyes, and the amused look on his face. Both were equally irritating.

"Where ya goin', toots? Don-t, uh, run away. Wake-y up, ya lazy woman." Joker dragged the cover away, exposing her skin to the cool early morning's air. "C'mon, we have a lo-t to do today."

"I already told you that I have no intentions of being a part of it."

"Nah, y'said you won't save my ass. Nothin' about helping me." Joker climbed on top of the bed, reaching for the woman, tugging her to the corner of it. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, hurry u-p."

"What the fuck are you doing, Joker? Why do you need me?" Finally, Clara surrendered, standing up, two bare bodies in front of each other, a staring competition between hooded, black abysses and bloody steel.

"I need ya. That's all you nee-d to know for now, toots." The man licked his lips, paint-free face giving away nothing but excitement. "Dress u-p. In a, uh, formal attire. Something comfortable." Not waiting for her response, he himself moved towards the wardrobe, mumbling incoherent words underneath his breath. Digging out a white button-up shirt and black, tight pants, Jack threw them at Clara. "Take a, uh, shower. Quick. Be quick."

"Will you give me my underwear, boss?"

"D'ya need any? Without it, we would be able to get to the final base faster, little assassin." Joker quirked his eyebrows, smirking and at the same time taking in the naked woman in front. He met her frosty gaze, absolutely unamused. "Okay, okay. Here ya go."

It took ten minutes to shower, and ten more to dress up and make herself presentable. When Clara emerged from the bathroom, Joker was nowhere in sight. With a hope that he grew impatient and simply left her, the woman slowly made her way downstairs, taking in the silent house.

"Come." She abruptly twisted her head towards where the nasal voice came from, seeing Jack in his purple suit, still barefaced, but already projecting the aura of a terrorist. Clara manoeuvred to where he stood, next to the open front door.

"You know that I'm not exactly a bossing-around material, right?"

"You do not come because I'm bossing around. Ya come b'cause you want to keep my ass outta trouble, little assassin."

"I have known Crane for more than a decade, and you still think I can't recognize an emotional manipulation?"

"You're, uh, paranoid."

"You keep saying that too often, J." Clara found herself on the side of Joker's black van, passenger's door already open, the man impatiently waiting for her to get in. "What a gentleman you are." After she climbed in, the man shut the door loudly, went around and also got in.

"What could I say. It's in my bloo-d." He reversed from her driveway, driving to where the city was. But instead of going to the already busy centre, they moved towards living quarters, west side of Gotham.

"Where are we going?"

"Home." Joker hummed lowly, keeping an eye on other cars around them, looking for a spot to park the van. "Home sweet ho-o-me." Grinning, the man turned his face towards Clara, motioning to a two-story, white house. "Honey-y-y?"

"Sweet pea?" She lifted one eyebrow, waiting for his answer. The man dug one hand inside a pocket of his coat, lifting hand with keys.

"I nee-d favour. Go and, uh, unlock the door. And keep it unlocked. I cannot go inside looking like me in broad daylight." Looking into his eyes, then at the hand, and then lifting them once more, Clara finally snatched the keys, stepping out of the car. She could feel Jack's heavy gaze following her, at the same time examining their surroundings. The woman reached the door, went inside and did as the Joker said. Finally, Clara took in the inside of the place that the man called his 'home'.

A simple hallway met her, clean and lightly coloured. Not waiting for the owner, she moved deeper into the house, examining, taking mental notes of what was around her. Lots of the times the environment that one created to live in could characterize the owner pretty well. But when it came to Joker, she just couldn't be sure about anything, so the surgeon didn't dig too deep behind the possible meaning of his house's furnishing.

When Clara reached the living room, cosy and also milky coloured, bright with the morning sun shining inside, she took a seat on a comfortable-looking couch. Momentary closing her eyes, she let out a tired breath. It was rather familiar, this constant feeling of exhaustion that she was experiencing since meeting the Joker. The surgeon remembered feeling the same in Israel, in Vietnam, in Iraq. Constant danger, keeping her up at night, resulting in foggy brain and less than optimal bodily functions.

When she opened those steely orbs once more, the Joker laid on the same couch as herself, his feet on a coffee table, staring intently at the woman next to him. "Had a nice na-p?"

"I did."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Go-o-od." He grinned, mirth glinting in the depth of his eyes. "My, uh, friends will come here soon. I need to dress up before meetin' them." Jack caressed the lower-lip scar with his tongue, at the same time drumming at his thighs lightly. Clara noticed his nails, unlike most of the times, were clean, paint-free.

"Well, not that I'm holding you. Free to go." Clara lifted her long legs, twisting the whole body to one side, putting them behind Joker's back and nudging him with the sides of her calves, encouraging to stand up. Following his movements, the woman saw him do exactly that, throwing an amused look towards her. Muttering something incoherent, Jack made his way towards the stairs. This time when the surgeon closed her eyes, she continued listening to the sound of a half-empty house. It was surprisingly calming to hear pipes gurgling underneath the house, muted voices of people outside, sounds of cars and probably even birds. A vibe of normality.

Suddenly, someone started banging at the front door. Someone, who probably was one of the 'friends' that the Joker was previously talking about. Opening her eyes, Clara took in a formally-dressed man stepping down the stairs, longish brown hair tamed and clean, void of previous green colour. Lifting one eyebrow, she examined this change in attire, guard's uniform, polished, shiny shoes, a beautiful, long-barreled gun in his hand. "Who are you, stranger?"

"A stranger-r-r." Only the grin was familiar in his otherwise distinct appearance. 'Guard' moved towards the door, opening it and letting in eight other men, dressed just like him. They entered the house, keeping their heads down, fingers clenching barrels of guns. It was interesting enough to watch how Joker's goons behaved around the man when they actually knew who he was. "Have ya done what I asked you to do?"

"Yes, boss. The guards are taken care of. Easier than shooting fish in a barrel." One of them, a man with salt-and-pepper in his hair, answered, casting a curious glance to the woman on the couch. "Boss, what..."

"And the window? Did ya pu-t a timer for exactly how much I sai-d?"

"We did, but boss, why is the surgeon of Gotham General with us?"

"Shut u-p. Have you blindfolded the, uh, guards?"

"Yes, boss."

"Now, the surgeon is a very dear friend of mine. Don't overthink i-t. Will, uh, overheat the porridge in your heads." The Joker let out a maniac chuckle, showing that, despite being dressed in entirely different attire, he was nevertheless the same lunatic. "The ceremony starts in two hours. Take enough bullets, an-d lets-s-s go." He turned towards Clara who was still laying on the couch, hands above and underneath her head, analyzing keenly the situation in front of her. "Little assassin." When he made sure he had her attention, the Joker motioned towards the men with his head. "Ya go with me and blackie one here." Indicating a sweaty, dark-haired man with a long, pointy nose, he waited for the woman to obey. As she stood up, they all exited the house, locking it before making their way to three black cars, parked just outside the building. Clara opened the passenger's seat to one of them, getting in and making herself as comfortable as possible in the tiny space. Joker was the driver, leaving the backseat for the silent man. The woman could feel his gaze on the back of her head, making tiny hairs stand up in unease. She didn't like those attentive, crazed eyes. Not one bit.

"Will the secret of my role in this masterplan be revealed?" The Joker kept his eyes on the road, his attention was unwavering. He was silent for so long that Clara started losing her hopes of getting any type of information from the man. Until he abruptly spoke in a low voice, void of any nasality or humour.

"I and my men will be standing just in front of the Mayor, maintaining the, uh, disguise of honour guards, until the security is disturbed." The woman kept her steely gaze on Jack's profile, memorizing his words. "There is a window. A window of a room in which the real honour guards are tied u-p. And, uh, a timer. At a certain time, it will go off, opening the shutters and distracting all security outside. This-s-s will be our clue to take action. Are ya still followin' me?"

"I am."

"Good. And this-s-s is where you come in the game." He threw her a lazy grin, cheeky and completely malicious. "My friends have seen this, uh, handsome face of mine. Money can do only so much to keep their mouths shut when the excitement wears off. I am a man who enjoys his daylight strolls in the park, little assassin. Can't risk an idiot let loose, huh?" Clara had a presumption of what the man wanted her to do, confirmed when he took her Enfield No. 2 from his pocket, handing the revolver to the woman. She silently took it, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat.

When he came the first time, Clara had an inkling, an itch of suspiciousness that the Joker knew more about her past, long-time-buried previous life of hers than he showed in the first place, from the way he talked, looked at the woman, addressed her. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thought to realize that somebody has dug deeper than Clara would normally allow. Especially when certain somebody was a psychotic clown, a lunatic who could use the tiniest weakness of yours to swipe you off of the face of Earth.

"When?" Her voice became hoarse out of the blue, steely, hazy eyes cast on the city in front of her.

"After I shoot the Mayor. Take six standing furthest from me, and I will take care of the rest." Nodding once, the woman remained stoic, fingers clutching the gun. She felt a light poking on her thigh, quad muscles underneath unconsciously contracting. Jack hummed lowly, tapping Clara's leg with enough force to keep her attention.

"Stop thinkin', little assassin."

They drove for a few more minutes until the upcoming crowd blocked the pathway. Joker parked the black car, turning to the surgeon when he did so.

"Now, go ou-t and stay close to the front line. Follow my lead, and don't do anything before I do. Comprende?"

"Si seƱor." Clara opened and closed the door, catching a short glimpse of the man's grin cast towards her. She manoeuvred between people, not making eye contact, gun safely tugged underneath her shirt, in the waist of her pants. The woman aimlessly walked to the corner of the crowd, as she still had some time till the ceremony started. Clara kept her presence out of view so the fewer people would remember her being here. The less, the better.

"Clara!" The woman closed her eyes for a moment, a wave of irritation overcoming the woman immediately. So much for the attempt. Turning around, she saw no one else but Bruce nearing her, dressed in the weirdest clothes possible. Well, not exactly. Clara herself rather enjoyed leather jackets, which was exactly what Wayne has put on, but the casual, biker-like appearance just disputed with its wearer's personality and position in society. Sudden amusement came, making the surgeon smile. It seemed that not only the Joker took an outfit of a different character today.

"What a surprise. So now you belong to some kind of biker club, huh? What's next? Becoming a stripper?" Bruce gave her a pointed look, keeping his lips tight as if swallowing down a smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Doc." The man came to stand next to her, holding a black helmet under one arm. "Didn't expect to meet you here."

"Neither did I expect myself to be here. Not exactly my cup of tea."

"What changed then? Did Lucius finally refuse to be kicked and punched like a sandbag?"

"Not really. It's my kind heart that gave him a morning off, and not his bossy personality." Clara moved her gaze towards the front, seeing the honour guards start taking their position. At the same time, the woman noticed security men standing everywhere, blended in with the environment well enough to not cause unnecessary panic. Apparently, Bruce kept an eye on them too, looking at the same direction, his jaw emptily working.

"Just this once I will allow you to keep your fantasies undamaged. We both know who's patience finally snapped." Clara got a feeling that the more humane version of Batman was here with a purpose. Even when talking to her, the man kept glancing around, examining their surroundings, looking for something invisible.

"Do you really think so lowly of me? To physically abuse an old man?" Sarcasm was evident in Clara's voice, drawing back Wayne's attention. "I do have some honour, you know. Not everything is lost yet."

"The concept of honour varies from person to person, Clara. What one finds being honourable may not live up to other's standards. That's the cruel reality. And neither one of them will be wrong, because humans have their own perspectives that they see the world through." A weird, downcast expression made its way on Bruce's face, serious, brown eyes boring into the woman's steely ones. "You can't always live up to everyone else's expectations. But at least you can follow your own voice of justice. Morality. Honour. And if those voices say that you can kick an old man in the groin, then that probably means that you should actually do it."

"We aren't entirely free to follow those voices, Bruce."

"Oh, but we are. Unless you decide to do something absolutely horrible, of course." He quirked his eyebrows, casting that expressive face a little lower. "Are you thinking about something illegal, Doc?"

"I might be." It was said lightheartedly and with a one-sided smirk, but on the inside, Clara remained untouched and serious.

"Well, I won't report you. As long as your behaviour will be based on your own beliefs, and not somebody's else. Let your own honour guide you. If it is loud enough, then you shouldn't fear the consequences." With one last look towards the crowd, the man gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I have to go now. It was a pleasure seeing you, Doc. Stay out of trouble." The woman nodded, acknowledging his warning. Bruce turned around and quickly disappeared, leaving Clara to her own mission. And although the man was gone, his words continuously ringed inside her mind. Honour. What was the honour?

She made her way to where the Joker told her to wait, noting that the Mayor already started talking. "...and we recognize the sacrifice of these officers. We must remember that vigilance is the price of safety." The woman took a tactical position, not completely in front of everyone, but comfortable enough to take an aim.

"Stand by!" One of Joker's goons, the last fraud in line, started talking, keeping everyone's attention to himself. Now Clara was exactly beyond the man, slowly taking the revolver from underneath her shirt, clutching it tightly. Enfield No. 2 could have six bullets put inside, one for every man. She can't miss. She won't miss. Clara knew that.

They raise their guns, shoot once, and lower them once more. With the man continuously shouting, honour guards repeat the process. If Clara wasn't attentive, she would have thought that it was only the Joker and his goons shooting the second time, but she could swear hearing somebody behind her letting out a bullet too. Security guards. They lifted the barrels for the third time. Now Clara was ready, her unwavering attention concentrated on the back of the talking man. The woman's world suddenly narrowed, at the same time as the eight men turned towards the Mayor.

Noise.

Screams.

Shoots.

Chaos.

She could feel the recoil of her revolver, seeing six men dropping one after another. Mayhem erupted everywhere around her, hiding the Joker from her eyes, men blending with other guards and disappearing from view. The surgeon quickly manoeuvred towards the car, maintaining the clear, undisturbed head in the chaos that this psychotic clown initiated. People around her screamed and cried, searching for their loved ones, not paying attention to the lonely tall figure.

The thrill, excitement bubbled inside, dyeing her surroundings in much brighter colours.

When Clara finally reached the car, a certain man already sat behind the steering wheel, a wicked grin stretching his macabre scars. Jack motioned with his now bare head to the empty seat next to him, waiting for the woman to get in. When she opened the door, high-pitched giggles tore from his mouth, showing the man's high spirits. "So kind of you to wait for me, J. I feel honoured."

"I'm in a good moo-d. No need to force ya walk a long road on feet, little assassin." He quickly drove away, continuously chuckling. Chaos entertained the clown. Pain fed his twisted soul. "No Mayor. Gordon is enough for no-o-ow. Will keep the, uh, tail away."

"If that's what you say." The adrenaline rush was abruptly gone, leaving an empty shell behind. It was strange how quickly years of hard work and self-reflection could be turned to nothing. Ashes. Dust. It was so easy to become a tool, be manipulated and used. And the scariest part was that she herself took the role of a master who controlled the tool which was nothing else but her skills and mastery of assassination.

Spark becomes a flame, and the flame becomes a fire. Clara didn't know how to control that fire.

"Don-t think."

Song of the chapter: Tool - Intension