If you want to survive as one of Gotham's many goons, you find ways to make yourself useful. That's what I had done: I'd made myself useful so I didn't get shot in the face. The mob bosses only knew what was useful by what they saw. My employer at the time had seen and knew that I was useful; his peers knew too.

So how do you become useful? Most will show that they are willing to do anything for the boss, others bring specific skills to the table. I'm the latter. My boss kept me around because I built explosives, but also because he could use my mundane nine to five to his advantage. I worked for the city's morgue, and assisted with autopsies. This meant that any homicides that bossman's gang committed were typically covered up by me. Missing bullets; botched fingernail swabs. You get the idea. It was a great system while it lasted.

The last time I saw my old boss was the second week of this past June. The weather was still cool and timid in the evening, and made the walk back to Herman's building a more pleasant experience. Around me, the sounds of the city echoed. All of the honking, police sirens, and gun fire made me feel more at home.

I turned down the alley that we all used as an entrance to avoid suspicion from the cover up business on the other side of the building. A night club wasn't the most inconspicuous front, but Herman liked the extra cash it brought in.

On my way in, I noticed a dirty white van that was parked outside of the door. Bossman had company over. I caught a glance inside; there were three men inside with masks strapped the the tops of their heads.

I slapped with my open palm three times and waited for tonight's door man. A small sliding panel opened and two bright blue eyes peered down at me.

"What the password?"

"Eat a dick," I said, unamused.

The door opened and my eyes adjusted to the blue-tinted LED's blaring on the other side. Ed, the door man peeked his head around the door.

"I was just kidding," he said.

I turned before heading up the stairs.

"It was funny the first two times. After ten, it gets old."

"I'll get some new material," he laughed.

I shot a big smile at him before ascending. On my way up, I heard a guttural, cackling laugh coming from Herman's office. It made me shudder. Whoever his new friend was, I hoped that it was a one and done transaction. That noise was unbearable.

I quickly walked past the slightly ajar office door.

"Oh, Kay!"

I stopped and groaned at the ceiling.

Herman yelled again,"Kay! Come here and meet our new acquaintance."

Great. Another one.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. Herman faced the man sitting in the chair in front of his desk. I could smell the cigarette smoke and sweat on his guest before approaching. The back of his head held a greasy mess of curly green hair. The man turned in his chair and faced me.

"This is Kay," said Herman. "She's our explosives, uh…person."

I nearly gasped at the sight at the man looking up at me. His face was caked in makeup. The areas surrounding his eyes were pitch black and melting into the white patchy paint on the rest of his face. His mouth was swathed by bright red lipstick. On each of his cheeks, there were scars that began on the corners of his mouth and curled up into a permanent, grotesque smile. He slowly licked at the side of his mouth and looked me up and down.

What the hell?

"Hi there," the man said.

His voice was strange. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. A deep, almost mocking tone that sounded like it should be coming out of a ventriloquist's dummy instead of a man.

"Hi," I nearly whispered.

Herman cleared his throat.

"Kay, this is the Joker."

This is creepy.

"He's going to be doing some business with us. Him and his boys need a few guns, and I thought I could interest him in some of your, um, products."

My mouth managed a half smile, and I nodded. The bag slung over my shoulder suddenly felt unbearably heavy. I pulled it up and balanced it on the edge of Herman's desk.

The Joker smacked his lips and tilted his head towards me.

"Herman tells me you're one of his best people."

I glanced over at Herman before unzipping and reaching into the bag.

"I might be, I dunno."

He raised his eyebrows at Herman and scrunched his face together before taking another lick at his facial anomalies.

"And humble," he giggled.

I pulled the favorite of my creations out of the bag.

"This is a, uh, timer bomb."

The words left my mouth, but they were unconfident and slow.

He took the device from my hands and examined it in his own, grunting in curiosity.

"How does it work?"

He licked again.

I cautiously inched closer and pointed to one side of the device.

"There's a pin. You pull it and twist the two halves in opposite directions."

He looked up at me from underneath his eyebrows instead of focusing on the device. My eyes darted from his face to the plastic in his hands and back again.

"Aaaand?"

He made me very, very nervous. I lifted my shaky hands and motioned for him to turn it over.

"There's a dial that shows you how long you have before it goes off. And when it explodes, small pieces of shrapnel are expelled."

He sat up straight and chuckled in delight before pocketing the small bomb in his long, purple coat. My jaw dropped open and I turned to check Herman's expression. He only smiled and nodded. He looked almost pleased. His passivity made me cringe.

The Joker stood slowly and rested his purple-gloved hands on Herman's desk.

"I would looooove to see what else your lady friend here has to offer, but unfor-tune-ate-ly, I am a very busy guy."

He stood up all the way and adjusted his coat on his shoulders. It wasn't until he looked at me that I'd noticed how tall he was. He peered down at me like I was a bug he could stomp on. He licked once again and reached up to my face. I caught a whiff of gasoline mixed with cheap cologne. He pinched my cheek before turning and walking out the door.

"We'll be in touch."

"Until next time," Herman called after him.

I didn't want a next time. I was beyond disgusted.

After the door shut behind the clown, I turned to face Herman.

"You have got to be kidding me."

He chuckled and picked up a small glass of rum and Coke that he'd been nursing.

"He's harmless," he continued to laugh before taking another sip. "It's good for business."

I sat down in the chair the Joker had been sitting in and pulled the seat closer towards the desk.

"Herman. You need to be careful. There's something up with that guy, and I don't trust him."

"You don't trust anyone."

I zipped my bag.

"You used to not trust anyone either."

I threw the bag back over my shoulder and turned to leave.

"It will be fine Kay. You'll see!"

The door clicked shut behind me and I rested my hands on the railing surrounding the second floor outside of Herman's office. I looked down in time to see the Joker make his way out. He looked up at me and winked before ducking out the door.

Herman decided that I should have my own workshop in the building. It kept suspicion away from my apartment, which I appreciated. I walked in and turned on the lights. There were loose pieces of paper piled on the desks and floors, and miscellaneous scraps of junk sitting in cardboard boxes that I'd collected in order to put together my next exploding masterpiece.

I sat down at the desk, set down my bag, and removed my jacket.

The music from the club made the shared wall vibrate from the pounding of the bass.

I picked out a pencil from the cup sitting on the desk and began to absent-mindedly sketch out a new idea. In the back of my mind, all I could see was two endless black pits with eyes staring out from the centers. That man.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wanted to know more…but I didn't. Where the hell did he come from? And why have I never heard his name mentioned? I shouldn't want to know more. The Joker utterly repulsed me by both sight and smell. No other mob boss that I had encountered was as disrespectful, or filthy for that matter.

Who knows how long they'd been talking before I showed up. Whatever deal they'd worked out, Herman got the shit end of the stick.

I looked down at my paper to see that I had drawn the eyes that I couldn't get out of my head.

I stood, picked up my bag, and removed myself from the room. As I hurried down the stairs, Herman's office door opened.

"You're leaving already? Don't you have work to do?"

I stopped on the staircase and peered over my shoulder.

"I can't be here right now."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Kay. Have I ever put you in a dangerous situation?"

I raised my eyebrows at him while keeping my eyelids halfway shut.

"I mean, a dangerous situation that you couldn't get out of."

I shrugged.

"I guess not," I said.

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. His grey suit collected dust from the concrete.

"Where the hell did you even find that guy?"

"He found us."

I took a step up the stairs.

"What do you mean he found us?"

He uncrossed his arms and shifted his weight.

"Whaddya mean what do you mean?" He laughed. "He found us through a mutual acquaintance who said we could supply."

"Did he say which one?"

"No. Does it matter?"

I shook my head in disbelief and hurried my descent down the stairs.

"Kay!" He called after me.

"I'll be back tomorrow night!"

I let the large metal door slam behind me.

The next day, I had the day off from my "normal people job." I thought it would be a good opportunity to figure out who our mutual acquaintance was, and I knew just who to ask.

It was late in the evening before I had made my way to him. I stood in front of Falcone's restaurant for a few moments before considering walking in. He and I weren't on bad terms, but the last job I'd done for him didn't go well. Herman had more or less rented me out to him a few months prior, in order to take out a man that refused to pay him back. The charges detonated, but weren't enough to be lethal. The man is now severely disabled. I hadn't visited since before then.

The botched job was justice as far as Falcone was concerned, but I still felt horrible about it. Permanently maiming someone was never my objective.

The bodyguards standing outside nodded towards me and held the door once I'd finally gathered the courage to walk in.

I never had the heart to tell Herman, but I had occasionally visited with Carmine Falcone. Herman's advice was great if you were trying to make a quick buck, but he wasn't the boss that Falcone was. Carmine had been in the game for years, and he knew all of the angles.

"Kay, Kay, Kaaay."

Falcone smiled and gestured to an open seat next to him at the bar.

"Hello Carmine."

He kissed my cheeks and sat back down.

"Never thought I'd see you around here again."

"Well," I sighed. "I can't hide from the rest of you guys forever."

He threw his head back and laughed.

"Kiddo, you did us a favor."

I put my hand up.

"I didn't come here to talk about what happened."

He leaned in.

"Why the hell are you here? Ready to take me up on my offer?"

The bartender set down a stemmed glass in front of me and poured wine from a fancy looking bottle.

"I wouldn't betray Herman. He's been making some questionable decisions lately, but he takes care of me. Always has."

He grinned as he set his glass down in front of him.

"Questionable decisions?"

I nodded.

"Between you and me."

"Alright, why not?"

I took a deep breath and bit my lip.

"He's been buying cheap. Guns, grenades, even C-4. Who the hell buys cheap C-4? And it's not just that. The money that he saves by buying bullshit, he spends on parties. He's going downhill fast, and I don't know what to do."

Falcone raised his eyebrows at me in surprise.

"Jump ship."

I tilted my head at him and frowned.

"I can't do that. Besides, the money isn't even the biggest problem."

I turned my head to look around the restaurant and see if anyone was listening.

"Do you know anything about the Joker?"

His face turned solemn.

"You mean the clown in the purple suit?"

"That's the one."

He paused to take a drink.

"He's visited. I made it very clear that I would not be doing any sort of business with him."

"So you got vibes from him too?"

"Who wouldn't?"

He threw back the rest of his drink.

"He told Herman that he found us through a mutual acquaintance and wanted to buy some weapons."

Carmine carefully set the glass back down on the bar and closed his eyes.

"Stay out of there, kid. Don't go back."

"What do you know?"

"Nothing. That's the problem. No one does. But I can guarantee that there is no mutual acquaintance. Don't know how he would have known how to find you guys, but none of us sent him your way. We know jack shit."

I picked up the glass in front of me and gulped its contents.

I knew then, and especially now, that Falcone was absolutely correct. I should have listened, but I didn't want to let Herman find out the hard way. I needed to get back to his place and tell him that we needed to relocate. Maybe even hire more guys.

I quickly jogged my way up the street, but stopped short of the alleyway when I saw a familiar white van parked next to the sidewalk. I ducked into a doorway and peeked around the corner. There were men in clown masks filling the back of the van with boxes. I knew those boxes. There were guns in them.

Additional men armed with automatic rifles watched on while the others packed the van. There was no sign of their boss.

I crouched down and carefully approached. They had all turned their backs towards me and had focused their attention on tetrising everything into the van. The light from the overhead street lamps threatened to expose me as I quietly passed behind them and snuck into the alleyway. I stopped to hide behind a dumpster before moving forward. I saw that the thick steel door was wide open. It should never be open.

There were footsteps coming down the stairs. More men with more boxes to place inside the van. But that wasn't it. They had the boxes that contained the junk I collected for building bombs.

What the hell is going on?

After the men had passed my hiding spot, I stood and quickly ran past the door. I stole a glance inside the door as I passed. Clowns. Fucking clowns. Nightmare fuel.

I ran until I got around the corner to a group of windows that oversaw one of the back rooms where we all congregated. I pulled myself up on top of another dumpster. The light coming from inside the window nearly blinded me. Slowly, I peaked up over the window's ledge and inside of the building.

Inside, I saw that there were men going through the rooms on the upper floors. I inched myself up higher to look down into the room. My fears were confirmed. Down on the floor Herman, the doorman, and two more of our cohorts were kneeling with their hands above their heads. In front of them, pacing, was the Joker. He was speaking to them.

I tried to lean in so I could hear what he was saying, but I couldn't make any of it out. One of the clowns came down the stairs and handed the Joker a thick stack of papers. I recognized them right away. They were the papers from my workshop. They were my designs.

He flipped through the pages for a moment, and turned his attention towards Herman. Words were exchanged between them. Herman shook his head. The Joker threw the papers above his head and let them float towards the floor. As the pages dropped, he pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Herman.

"No!" I whispered.

I was helpless and unhelpful. Even if I had created a distraction, it only would have delayed the inevitable. I was outnumbered and suddenly overwhelmed.

The gun was fired, and the brains flying from out the back of Herman's head splattered in the faces of the men quivering behind him. He slumped forward and some of the floating papers nestled themselves on his back.

A scream escaped my mouth. I covered my face with my hands and ducked down. Bile burned the back of my throat, but did not escape.

Did he see me?

There was silence. No sign of anyone coming for me. I slowly began to stand again. Upon reaching the window, my eyes widened and my heart nearly stopped. The black holes were staring at me. I quickly jumped down off of the dumpster and began to sprint away. Behind me, I heard the window's glass shattering and a loud thud on top of the dumpster. He was coming.

He's going to kill me.

My lungs and legs were on fire, but I couldn't let him catch me. I ran to the next street block, hoping that I could find somewhere to hide. At the end of the next alley, the white van screeched to a halt and blocked my only exit. The doors flew open, and clowns emerged. I turned to run back, but I could see a tall silhouette standing at the other end of the alley.

I threw down my things and looked at the surrounding walls. There was a ladder leading up to the rooftop, but it was out of reach from where I stood. The Joker saw my goal and began to approach more rapidly. I backed up and started to run towards the ladder. I jumped and held fast to the rusted rungs while I used the all of my strength in order to pull myself up.

Below me a hand grabbed hold of my ankle and pressed its fingertips into my skin. I yelped and wrapped my arms around the ladder. I used my other leg to try to kick away the hand that had me.

The hand's voice cackled beneath me. I looked down to see him staring back, smiling and enjoying himself.

My foot found his face and kicked it away. He let out a frustrated yell and shook his head. Seconds later I heard a small click. Afterwards, an immeasurable and intense pain grew in my calf. He plunged a blade into me. I kicked harder at his wrist and was let go. I pulled myself up and felt the knife that was stuck into my leg pull at the muscle.

Once I reached the top, I pulled myself up and over the building's ledge. I screamed out in agony. The pain was unbearable. I pulled the blade from my oozing calf. He was still coming.

I stood and half hobbled, half jogged along the rooftop. I could hear him reaching the top of the ladder. I ducked down behind the rooftop access and listened for his advance.

"Come out. Come out, wherever you aaaaaaaare," he sang in an odd cadence.

I covered my mouth and silently wept.

The footsteps came closer.

"Kaaaaaaayyy. Where aaaare you? I'm not gonna hurt you."

I looked to my side and saw that the blood trickling from my leg had created a trail leading straight to me. The footsteps stopped.

He peered around the corner and stared down at me. I turned and began to frantically crawl away. He slowly continued his pursuit. I pushed myself up from the ground and tried to stand. His hand once again wrapped around my leg and pulled me back.

"Where are we going in such a hurry?"

I began to wave the knife in front of me in hopes that it would put some space between us. It didn't even phase him. He laughed at me.

"You should put that down. Someone could get hurt," he teased.

He took my wrist and yanked the knife from my grip. I turned my face away and covered my head with my arms as he lowered himself to straddle my waist.

"Oh, ho, ho. No, I'm gonna need you to look at me."

I curled my head down tighter into my chest.

He leaned in closer towards me and whispered in my ear.

"Look. At. Me."

He tore my arms away from my head and pinned them to my sides. I looked up to see his scrunched up face mocking my cries. I felt the edge of the blade scraping against my neck; I waited for the sting of my flesh being sliced open. His other hand held my face still.

"Shhh, shush. Don't fight now. Iiii need you to listen. To. Me," he licked his lips before continuing. "I needed Herman out of the way. The man was destructive. Can't have that."

He shook his head and studied my face.

"You, on the other hand, you're in an interesting position. You're useful," his voice raised in pitch.

He was so animated as he spoke, it was almost mesmerizing. Every carefully annunciated word that spilled from his mouth was possessive. Every syllable was punctuated by his shaking head or slithering tongue that was constantly protruding in and out of his mouth.

"What do you want," I croaked.

"So glad you asked!"

He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted. A leather-clad fist cut through the air and made contact with the side of the Joker's head.

I gasped to let out the breath that I didn't realize I was holding, and rolled to my side.

The large black figure that had just subdued my aggressor turned its entire upper body to look at me.

"You should get out of here," it growled.

I wholeheartedly agreed and complied with its advice and nearly fell back down the ladder. I dropped myself to the ground and saw that the alleyway was now covered with unconscious clown bodies. Some were still moaning out in pain.

Despite the discomfort in my lower extremity, I ran all the way back to my apartment. I didn't stop for anything. The adrenaline made my heart feel as if it would jump out of my chest.

Once inside, I slammed my front door shut. I turned the lock, slid the chain into its slot, and propped a chair underneath the door handle. My body collapsed to the floor, and I let out a mournful howl.