A/N: A million thanks to Glow593 for editing this bad boy!


"Tasha? Are you okay? You look exhausted..." Bruce puts a firm hand on her slumped shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. They exit the doors of the room where they just held their meeting. It was a long one, much to the pinkette's dismay.

No. She isn't okay. Not at all...

The last few days felt like they'd go on forever. That night she found the note in her apartment, there was no chance of sleeping soundly after that. Every time the darkness crept over the city, she's paranoid about that man showing up unannounced and uninvited. He's made it very clear that he can slip into her home without anyone noticing. Now, she really has no control of anything anymore, not even in the privacy of her own home.

As far as Tasha knows, no one came again... After getting home from work every day, she looks all over the apartment for anything out of place or wasn't there before.

'So far, so good...'

However, the pinkette can't forget one line in the letter... 'I'll be seeing ya later!' When she first saw him during the bus incident, he said the same thing and showed up that night in her hospital room. The Joker seems like the type of man who keeps his word... or threat. If he said he'll see her later, there's no doubt he means it.

"Tasha?"

She looks up in surprise, not realizing he was talking to her. Lost in her own thoughts, he probably thinks she's acting strange. Usually, the pinkette's very attentive and always pays attention to detail. It's not like her to be spacing out like this.

"Ah… I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. I've just been having a hard time getting sleep lately. Nothing to worry about." She can tell from his expression that he's not buying the lame excuse.

"If there's something bothering you, don't hesitate to come to me for help. I know I'm technically your boss, but I like to think of us as friends as well... I know Gotham's a rough city, so if anyone is causing you problems, just let me know. I'll take care of it. Okay?" His dark eyes bore into her earnestly, and she knows he means it.

Should she tell him what's going on? Yes, he's a billionaire, but what good is money when you're up against The Joker?

Tasha tears her gaze away as she remembers the letter the clown left on her coffee table just a few days ago...

'Anyone gets involved, they WILL regret it. Trust me, I'm a man of my word...'

No, there's no need to involve Bruce. What can he do anyway? Throw money at him? Ino says the Joker's notorious for being more concerned with sending a message than about cash.

After reading a few news articles about him recently, there seems to be some truth in the matter. Countless times he's murdered high-profile people and burnt money he stole, the way a lunatic would... Everyone knows that whenever the rich and powerful are in danger, they usually resort to trying to bargain for their lives using the wealth they accumulated.

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. It's nothing like that. I guess I'm just having a hard time getting used to this city. Perhaps I'm just a little homesick, that's all..." Lies. All lies. Knowing Bruce, he probably already sees through them.

"I see… And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Bruce? It makes me feel old when you call me 'Mr. Wayne'. That's what everyone called my father." A grin spreads across his face at her reaction. Despite not buying into her bogus lies, he's not going to push the subject either.

"I'll try... Bruce." The young billionaire's face lights up when she says his first name. As long as they've known each other, this is the first time she uttered his name with no prefixes or honorifics. When they met in the hospital, she used to call him Mr. Bruce. Thinking about it almost makes her chuckle.

"Well, I have to get going now if there's nothing else you need me for today." The only thing she can think about right now—that isn't somehow related to the mad clown—is going home, taking a shower and getting some sleep.

'There's still plenty of time until night falls. At least, a few hours. I can get some sleep before meeting up with Ino... I guess it doesn't really matter what time it is. It was the middle of the day when he left the note and branch...'

Tasha thinks of someone just seeing a mad clown scaling the side of a building with a cherry blossom branch in his mouth. If it was a different apartment and not hers being terrorized, it might've been funny to imagine. Unfortunately, she's the one going through this...

'Well, he could've picked the lock and just opened the window to scare me, then locked the door on the way out...'

She must be going mad to almost laugh thinking of different ways he used to break into her home. What the hell's wrong with her?

"Oh, yeah... You're done for the day. I don't think there's anything left. The meeting went well, and you already had everything organized beforehand. I can't ask for more than that." They walk side-by-side towards the large lobby that leads to the entrance. The building is always so impressive, no matter how many times she sees it.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne"

A dark-skinned woman tears her eyes away from her computer screen and pushes up from her desk to greet the face of the company. Tasha doesn't know how Shayna can always appear so professional and courteous, especially with some of the snotty businessmen that come through the doors. A few don't have the manners to keep their sexist or racist comments to themselves, something the female employees discuss in the break room. God forbid a woman has a prominent position in a lucrative company, especially minorities at that. Tasha alone can't count the number of times someone's made an off-handed remark about being half-Asian. One can only imagine what Shayna goes through, but she always keeps her head held high and works hard. Ethnicity, gender, sexuality… None of that bullshit determines a person's worth or work ethic. Thankfully, Bruce doesn't take well to anyone discriminating his employees and

"Well- Actually Tasha, I was wondering... If you're having a hard time getting used to Gotham, maybe I could show you around?... Despite what people say, there are still plenty of good places around the city. Are you doing anything later?" Tasha's eyes widen at Bruce's offer. Is he asking as her boss, a friend, or something else? The whole situation makes her feel a little uncomfortable.

Most women would jump at the chance to spend time with the infamous billionaire playboy, Bruce Wayne. He's known for showing up to many high-profile events with multiple women on his arm. All gorgeous in their own right. Wherever he went, the beauties who tag along always have heads turning in their direction. The envy of most men... People rarely see him with the same one twice. Celebrities, dancers, actresses, models, heiresses... There are no limits for this man.

'I don't like this or want people thinking I'm one of his groupies or trying to use him to get to the top... I've heard nothing about him doing this with the other employees... They're more than willing to gossip about the boss with each other, comparing what he's done for this or that person. I really don't need bullshit rumors spread about me.'

Tasha arches a brow when he looks down at her expectantly. She realizes for the first time how much taller he is than her. With both of them standing straight, he's at least over a foot above her slight stature.

"Oh... Well, I already have plans with my friend, Ino. I'm sorry... Can we do it some other time?" The pinkette notices the disappointment on Bruce's face as she turns him down for tonight.

"I just thought I would offer... Maybe another day this week? When you're not busy?" Seeing his expression causes Tasha to feel guilty. It reminds her of a sad puppy-dog wanting attention or begging for something. He really isn't asking for much. Perhaps he just wants some company? It's not that big of a deal. Besides, this man's done so much for her...

"Sure. I guess that would be okay. I'll let you know."

Bruce smiles with satisfaction that she's not rejected the offer right off the bat. Holding the glass door open for her, they say short goodbyes as the pinkette leaves to head home.


Tasha groans as she unlocks the door to her apartment. After parting ways with Bruce, there's an extra weight added to her tired shoulders.

'I guess I'll just get it done and over with... Well, it might be fun. There are plenty of places around the city I've never been to. This will be good for me.'

Closing and securely locking the door, green eyes quickly scan around the room for anything out of place. The little gift the other day has brought on a reasonable amount of paranoia. The last thing she needs is another surprise popping out.

'Everything looks just how I left it... Good.'

Letting out a sigh of relief, the pinkette can't help wondering if she's going mad. There's no way that everything was a dream. The proof's in the top drawer of her dresser. She still doesn't understand the meaning of the branch or why he left it there at all. Does it have something to do with her hair? Some sort of ironic and sadistic joke? After all, he is a Joker. He clearly has a twisted sense of humor.

Deciding not to dwell on it for the time being, Tasha walks into her bedroom to grab a fresh pair of clothes from the dresser. Right now, a shower is exactly what she needs. Something to wash away all the troubles, even for just a little while. The heat always soothes her tense muscles, helping them to relax. That's her go-to whenever things are difficult. It's a small, quiet space all to herself and she can sit there for hours if she wants to—or until the hot water runs out. The sound of the shower running blocks out the noises from the city and lulls her into a sense of comfort and security. Similar to being swaddled with a warm blanket.

'There's still five hours until I'm supposed to meet Ino. If I shower quickly, maybe I can get four hours of sleep.'

Her body and mind are both equally exhausted. Every night, she imagines waking up to a knife against her throat and a clown cackling as he looms over her, partially hidden in the shadows. The idea alone is making rest hard to come by. Being sleep-deprived is wearing her down, making it harder to think straight.

Lately, the pinkette can't help feeling like there's a pair of eyes on her... Watching everywhere she goes, following every single movement. The sensation causes her skin to prickle with goosebumps and shivers running down her spine. Day-after-day, that feeling grows to the point she swears someone's right up behind her, only to see nothing when she turns around. It went from slight paranoia to full-on panic that only seems to get worse as time goes on.

Is she just being delusional? Or perhaps that psychotic clown's trying to drive her nuts? Maybe a little of everything.

Walking into the bathroom and locking the door, Tasha tries ignoring everything that's eating at her. Tonight will be a pleasant break. Ino always knows how to have fun and make everyone laugh. The blonde has a way of brightening up a room and making people feel at ease. That's exactly what she needs right about now.

Turning on the shower, a slim hand reaches out to check the temperature. Just right... Not too hot, not too cold. Pulling off her dress and undergarments, the pinkette absentmindedly tosses them to the floor and steps under the running water.

A groan pushes out as the warm water runs through her silky hair, trailing down the pinkette's tired body and helping her muscles loosen up. Yes, that always does the trick... Nothing's better than a nice shower and getting into bed after a long day's work.

"Ahhh..." If only the water really can wash away the problems in life. Green eyes watch the steam swirling around and dancing as it escapes from behind the curtain. She's transfixed by it, wishing it can be that easy to get out... To just disappear, and go wherever she wants without a care in the world. That's too easy though, right?

Shaking it off, she gets to work shampooing her hair, working through the long tresses. Part of her is glad she didn't cut it. For some reason, it just feels right the way it is now. Rinsing out the suds, she quickly grabs the sponge to wash her body. The warmth and solitude almost cause her to lose track of her plans. Time is of the essence, and she wants to get as much sleep as possible, before heading out. If she shows up looking exhausted, Ino will just hit her with a barrage of questions and complaints. No one needs that, and certainly not her.

'Knowing Ino, she'll drag me all over the city...'

Sighing, there's no doubt that it'll be a long night. A long one, but fun.

Quickly rinsing off, Tasha reaches out for the towel from the railing. After turning the water off, she dries herself off and changes into a pair of shorts and a cami. All she wants at the moment is to just crawl into bed.

'So tired... I need to set the alarm on my phone or I'll sleep all night.'


The door to the apartment slowly creaks open. A man quietly enters, sliding a little tool back into his pocket. It only took him a few seconds to pick the lock and wasn't a soul in the halls leading up here.

'Too easy...'

The clown steps through the threshold and closes the door, trying to be as silent as possible. He doesn't want to cause a scene… yet.

'I'll make a key when I get back. Should've just done that in the first place.'

The orange glow from the evening filters through the windows, making everything still visible. Stalking across the living room, he wonders where the pinkette is in the apartment. She's here. He watched her return home a while ago.

Different scenarios run through his mind as dark eyes flicker back and forth, taking everything in around the apartment. The little ornaments, books, the comfy furniture. The couch really draws his attention. It looks soft and plush, somewhere he wouldn't mind kicking back. There's a coffee table right in front of it with a book lying open on the surface.

It's close to winter and chilly outside. All the windows will have frost on them soon. That never bothered her, and from the temperature in the apartment, it still doesn't. The heater was always broken in that old complex and no one ever fixed it. Glancing at the furniture, he imagines Sakura sprawled out across the couch, wrapped up in a thick throw. There would be a steamy cup of coffee with hazelnut creamer—her favorite—on the table. She'll be curled up in a ball, intently reading a book. Her toes wiggle when she laughs at a funny part, not caring what anyone else thinks.

The muscle in his cheek jumps at the thought, making his lip quirk up on the side. He's seen her like that before, back when the pinkette used to devour everything from the library. It's an image he enjoyed and despised because it meant her attention was elsewhere. There were times he stole books, coffee, and creamer, just to see her face light up at the gifts. It never took much to put her in a good mood.

"Heh." The clown's mind shifts to a different scene. One of her in the kitchen, whistling a soft tune to herself. Lost in her own little world, making something to eat... She turns on her heel to grab a small container of seasoning, just to see him standing there.

Oh, the scream she'll let out...

'Hahahaaa...'

Just thinking about her surprised expression alone is enough to get him excited.

'Hmm... Nice place. No doubt the playboy had a hand in it.'

Bruce Wayne's helping her in many ways. Joker did his research and knows what's going on. For someone like him, finding information is easy.

Thinking about the playboy sets his blood boiling. It's his fault Sakura left Gotham. If she didn't leave the country, he would have found out she's alive years ago... No one can hide anything from him in this city.

Seven… Seven long years.

His ears perk up at the soft sounds of breathing and he follows them towards the bedroom. Well, there goes any chance of scaring the pinkette out of her skin in the kitchen...

Trudging across the floor, he glances around curiously, observing the surroundings. Every object, book, picture... Just a choice in decor can tell him more than anyone probably realizes. Each little detail tells its own story about who Sakura is now, what kind of woman she's grown into. It's like sneaking into someone's diary, trying to lift their secrets in a roundabout way.

The clown wants to know more about the stranger lying in the other room.

'... Stranger...'

No, Sakura's not a stranger... Tasha is. One that will be dealt with.

Rounding the corner from the living room, the door to the pinkette's bedroom is wide open. Part of him expected it to be closed and carefully locked. Maybe even barricaded, considering the way she's been acting the last few days. Going without sleep is making her careless. Is it because he hasn't shown up since that night in the hospital? Does she really think if he didn't come yet, then it won't happen?

Oh, how blissfully wrong his little bunny is... Just because the clown hasn't revealed himself, that does not mean he isn't there. Joker's always there... He sees and hears everything. Nothing and no one can escape him.

He stands in the doorway, silently observing the sleeping beauty. Sakura is laid out across the bed with a blanket barely covering her. Taking a few steps across the carpeted floor, his head shifts to the side, allowing his dark eyes to roam over the mattress, and the small body sprawled out on it. She appears to be sleeping... Wondering how deep it is, he coughs experimentally to check for a reaction.

'Nothing... Kitty's knocked out cold.'

Walking up next to the bed, he gazes down at the pinkette, studying her features carefully. For seven long years, all he had are memories from when they were younger. Now, she's an adult woman, and him, a hot-blooded man. They were different people back then.

Smacking his lips together, Joker pinches the tips of his leather glove, tugging it off his rough hand. They've become so rugged and calloused over the years... It's only getting worse as time goes on. Quietly, the clown lowers himself to the edge of the bed, next to the woman slumbering soundly. For some reason, he hopes she stays asleep for now. That way, he can stay there undisturbed for a little while. If she's awake, there will only be screaming and chaos...

While he thrives off chaos and initially hoped to scare the shit out of her, this little reprieve is a welcome change of pace. From observing the last few days—in between the little rendezvous and games he's been playing with the mob bosses—he knows she's been staying on guard when night falls...

'Hah. As if the time of day changes my plans...'

It doesn't matter, day or night. Joker does as he pleases. After all, the first time he saw Sakura in seven years was right after robbing a bank in the middle of the day. The sight of her shocked him to the core... So much that he drove headfirst into the bus in front of him. If she didn't have such a unique appearance, he could've assumed it was someone similar. However, no one else looks like her... Not with that hair or birthmark.

He thought it might've been another one of those pesky hallucinations. It's been a long time since he's seen one so vividly, but they usually look the same. The pinkette was forever stuck at seventeen in his mind, the way she was when he last saw her. The one he spotted on 5th Ave was older, more mature and developed, wearing clothes he's never seen her in. That's how he knows it wasn't his imagination... He couldn't have come up with that sight on his own, and neither can his mind with its twisted fantasies.

It's like seeing a ghost. Nothing's shocked or surprised him in years. Not like that. There's no way Sakura could be casually strolling down the street in Gotham. It's impossible, doesn't make a lick of sense.

After realizing it really is her, hatred and resentment burned brighter than any flame he ever started before. All this time, she's been alive, and living somewhere else without even a second thought? Just moved on as if he never existed? Why didn't she return after what happened? Or at least try?

Many times after he set fire to the building they grew up in, he'd go back there, and replay memories of the two of them. It was the only way to deal with everything... Perhaps he never really coped with it, just rejected it altogether. He couldn't accept what happened. Not to him, not to Sakura, not to their lives... This city destroyed them in more ways than one.

'Now this city is mine...'

Despite the anger coursing through him, he just couldn't let go of the feelings harbored deep down in him from all those years ago. Part of him wanted to cut her up in the hospital bed and wait for the staff to see his artwork... to hear them scream in terror. For seven years, he suffered from guilt and agony that mixed into his madness, while she's living it up in Japan on Bruce Wayne's buck. There are plenty of games they could've played until her heart stopped... The same way he did at the sight of her blood all over the pavement.

Standing back in the shadows of the hospital room and watching the pinkette sleeping, something changed. Those old memories and feelings that should've been long-buried reared their ugly little heads—mocking and laughing at him. All the ideas of knives and setting the bed aflame suddenly disappeared... She looked so frail and weak hooked up to that IV, being pumped with all sorts of drugs she didn't need. It bothered him. The sight brought out a side he thought died a long time ago—Jack—and it sent him reeling.

Tasha might be the name on the file, but the body in bed is still Sakura... His Sakura.

Why did she run? How could she? Didn't any of it mean shit to her? For years, Gotham became his playground. Extortion, murder, arson, kidnapping, robbery, racketeering... Name it, he's done it dozens of times without a second thought. He wants to show Gotham what it really is. He never hesitates to murder someone in cold blood. And yet... He can't bring himself to hurt her... too much.

Seeing the pinkette standing on that street reminded him of the genuine nature of humans. When the chips are down, they take off running and will cling to anyone or anything that will take care of them. She abandoned him to let some rich bastard take care of her. Wasn't he enough? Wasn't there any faith that he will take care of her? Didn't he just put his life on the line to get enough money to support them for a while?

Finding out that Bruce Wayne has been acting as her benefactor is maddening. She might as well have stabbed him with a knife in the back and chest at the same time. Most women will choose a billionaire pretty-boy over a disfigured madman that commits crimes for a living. His Sakura isn't most women. She's supposed to be different... or at least he thought so.

Joker wanted to make her pay for the hell he endured all this time. The same way he's making Gotham suffer for what it did to them... What it turned him into. There's no denying his true nature. It's always been there, lying just beneath the surface and waiting to lash out. The city helped nurture the demon, then cries when the moment it reveals itself. They think they're better, but are all just as ugly on the inside, and he's more than happy to show them the reality of this world. The thought of Sakura becoming part of that is infuriating after all they experienced together. She knows the truth, just like he does. That she had that knowledge and still went through with it is enough to punish her for the rest of eternity.

As usual... Nothing is what it initially seems.

Sakura didn't run away or abandoned him... She didn't throw everything away for a comfortable lifestyle. No. All the memories were stolen from her. The fall took away everything that made her who she is... Her identity, their past and him. All in the blink of an eye. Gone...

Dark eyes gloss over her delicate face, watching as the little breaths escape her lips. Reaching out, his fingertips ghost along the soft skin of her cheek. The years apart have done wonders for her. The pinkette was a beauty back then, but now, she's just breathtaking...

Taking a chance, his calloused finger slowly grazes her lips, reveling in how they feel against his skin. It's been so long… too long. Part of him wants to wake her up, just to look into those green eyes one more time. He missed them. When she shifts in her sleep, he pulls his hand back quickly, curious to see what will happen.

Sakura grumbles something incoherent and rolls on to her side, closer towards him. Chuckling low, he wonders what kind of face she'll make if she wakes up with him staring down at her.

Looking at those pretty lips brings back memories of how soft they felt against his own. On his neck… chest… scars. The only person who never acted horrified by them is the woman sleeping pleasantly under his gaze. She was there when he 'received' them and didn't hesitate to kiss him while the blood was still pouring out of his face. He still remembers all the sensations to this day. The urge to have them again is overwhelming. If only...

Shifting on the bed, he leans closer... Close enough to feel her warm breath wash over his skin. The little blossom smells sweet, completely the opposite of himself. He's scarred up with a hard exterior and pungent smell of smoke and the aftermath of whatever weapons he recently used. She's soft and delicate, with a comforting floral scent. However, he knows there's a fire right beneath the surface that contradicts her appearance.

'Perhaps with a push in the direction...'

Reaching up, his fingers run through the silky pink locks spilled across the pillow. The urge to wrap it around his fist and pull her up against him is so tempting. He wants to have her… again.

Joker clenches his jaw, internally fighting against the instincts that drive him all these years he's come to rely on. Whenever and whatever he wants to do, he just does it. The only one gets in his way is the Batman, but that only makes everything fun… more interesting.

Right now, she's Natasha Romov... Not his Sakura. Not yet...

'Ha, she doesn't even look like a Tasha... Must've been the playboy's idea to give her an Eastern European name. Fucking moron. That little hussy seems to have a thing for Russians.'

Grumbling, the clown sits back and runs a hand through his faded green hair. Subconsciously, his tongue snakes over his bottom lip and prods at the scar that twists up on his cheek. Glancing over, his dark eyes catch sight of a cellphone on the nightstand, next to the bed. Unable to resist, the clown reaches over to snag it.

'Let's see what our little kitty-cat's been up to.'

Scanning through the text messages, his eyes flicker from the device back towards the sleeping woman. A grin curls into the scars, enjoying the little sneak peek into her life.

'Da-da-daAh. Playboy boss… blondie… some nobodies... Here's something interesting...'

Information is power. Plans are easier to make when he knows exactly what he's dealing with.

'So... Dollface is having a powwow with blondie tonight. Hmm? Sounds fun. Perhaps I can swing by after I'm done with my own little play-date with Gambol.'

Looking out of the window, darkness is starting to fall. It's time to leave. According to the cellphone, Sakura's alarm will go off soon and there's still fun to be had throughout Gotham.

After all, he has to show Gambol his hand... After so generously offering to take care of Batman for those mob fools for a small price, that shitty gangster tries pushing his buttons. Not only did he insult and threaten him, but also put out a hit. $500,000 dead, $1,000,000 alive.

'Money, money, money. That's all these morons think about...'

Gotham deserves a better class of criminal, and he'll give it to them.

Bolting up, Joker glances down at the pinkette with a grin. One way or another, he'll force Sakura to come out and play. She's somewhere in there, he just needs to draw it out of her. She still belongs to him, whether or not she remembers that.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small chain with a charm dangling from it. The cherry blossom charm she put on him all those years ago. Not a day goes by where it's not within reach. Rubbing the charm between his fingers, he looks at it wistfully before tossing it onto the mattress.

'This is a start. It's only a straight for now... Can't expect a Royal Flush when the games just started.'

A chuckle leaves his scarred lips as he places the phone back on the nightstand. He needs to go before he ends up staying. Treading across the plush carpet, the clown suddenly stops. Turning his head back, his eyes darken as they wander over the sleeping woman one more time.

'Don't worry, Sakura... I'll save you... from yourself...'

For now, there are other things he has to do. From the text messages, he already knows where she'll be later...

Now, it's time to visit little Gambol, and have a little talk about his grandma...


BEEP. BEEP. BEEEEEEP.

Tasha rolls over, reaching for the phone to silence the obnoxious noise grating on the ears...

"Dammit. I feel like I only slept for five minutes... at most." It's already time to get up and start getting ready to go out with Ino. They're meeting up at a restaurant just a few blocks away.

"Shit... I really don't feel like getting up!" Kicking the blanket the rest of the way off, she groans and pushes herself up. Something cold sliding against her hand causes her to jump.

"What the hell is this?" Looking down at the mattress, a chain with a small ornament lies on the sheets. Tasha leans over, turning on the lamp from the nightstand.

Green eyes widen as she picks it up, holding it out towards the light. It's a chain with a cherry blossom charm. Staring intently, the pinkette bites her bottom lip and stares at little charm dangling between her dainty fingers.

"How did this get here?" Tasha studies it for a moment, letting it swing back and forth curiously as a sense of nostalgia washes over her.

"I-I feel like... I've seen this before... Somewhere..."


"Yo, Gambol. Somebody here for you." The crime boss looks up when one of his men calls out, drawing his attention away from a game of pool.

The diamond jewelry in his ear gleams in the dim light overhead, a fine piece of jewelry. Expensive, just like everything else he owns. A custom-made suit of the finest quality, leather shoes that cost an arm and a leg, a watch on his wrist that's worth more than what most men in Gotham bring home in a year... He had it all...

Gambol's a tall, dark-skinned man with extravagant tastes. Only the finest will do. The more money he brings in through the criminal organization, the better. Not only does he have his own expensive desires to cater to, but family as well. His grandmother hasn't been doing well recently, and the cost for decent care is like everything else in his life... costly. However, he'll spend any amount of money on her, since she's the woman who raised him. If his grandmother knew how the money's pouring in, she'd probably have a heart attack. As far as the older woman understands, he's the owner of a very lucrative business... Some things are better left unsaid.

Everything was going perfectly until those three men started messing up business. Jim Gordon, Harvey Dent, and worst of all... The Batman. Block by block, they're all moving into his territory and shutting it down. It's not only him who's at a loss. No... The Italians, Chinese, and Chechen's are as well.

They began negotiations on how to deal with this issue before they end up losing everything. It was during their last meeting together with their joint accountant, Lau, through a videoconference, revealed that he took the majority of their funds for 'safekeeping' from the police, and Batman. The damn Chinese mob boss won't let any of them know where the money's being kept. He claims it's too risky if anyone else knows, in case the police capture of one of them.

Gambol doesn't like that. Not at all. That money belongs to all of them... If that two-faced accountant wants to, he can try to keep it all for himself. That won't happen. Something needs to be done about him.

It was during this meeting the freak showed up, with no warning and uninvited. Just waltzing into the building, after killing their security guards outside.

Right when Gambol saw the clown, it filled him with disgust. Everything about the man sets his radar off. The way he looks, the way he talks, the way he acts... That thing has absolutely no respect. The crime bosses built their empires from fear and respect. There are unspoken rules among men. It's understood where someone stands, and they're to act the part.

This man has no rules. He takes them, spits on 'em, then tosses them right out the window...

From his makeup to those grotesque scars and mannerisms, Gambol already hates the clown before he said a single word. This man isn't a gentleman or a gangster, just a scarred-up freak in a clown get-up.

To have the nerve to invite himself to their meeting and demand half of their empire in exchange for getting rid of the Batman?... As if he's capable of such a thing. None of his, Maroni's, or the Chechen's men have been able to do anything, yet this bozo thinks he can? And to demand half of everything?! That's the part he just can't get over out of everything. No one's ever had the guts to say something so ridiculous in front of them without being shot.

On top of that, the clown played a sick trick on one of his men that involved slamming a pencil through his eye socket—in front of everyone present. No way. No deal. No one comes in Gambol's house to play games and gets away with it. He'll teach the clown some respect.

Before the meeting was over, Gambol announced the hit on the Joker's head. $500,000 dead and $1,000,000 alive, so he can teach him some manners. Since then, he made sure the word got out to anyone and everyone about his offer. Gangsters, hit-men, bounty hunters, the desperate... Anyone who can catch this freak. It doesn't matter who pulls it off, as long as it happens. God, he hopes someone can manage to bring him in alive. It'll be worth the million dollars... Every. Single. Cent.

"They said they've just killed the Joker." Gambol's dark eyes light up at the two men standing by the pool table.

'Damn, I was hoping they'd bring him alive... This works too. Saves me some trouble. I would've liked to cut those scars back open.'

"They brought the body..."

With a smirk, Gambol straightens his back. He stands tall as two of his men bring in a limp body wrapped up with trash bags into the room. A few stragglers trail in behind them, glancing around the room. They don't look like much. Probably some scumbags who got the jump on the clown. From the way they gaze around, seemingly impressed with the surroundings, they probably come from The Narrows or some other shit area.

'I suppose these are the ones who finally did that FREAK in. Ha... How embarrassing for him.'

The two men lay the body down on the pool table. Satisfaction soars through the crime boss as the black plastic bag is yanked back, revealing the clown's pallid face. He's dead, all right! Things are already looking up. The Joker's death will send a very clear message to all... Perhaps they'll cut his scars open and hang his body from somewhere high in the city. A place where everyone can see and know this is the fate of any man who dares disrespect him. That'll send one hell of a message.

"So, dead? That's $500K." He can't wipe the smug expression off his face. Not that he wants to, either. This is a great victory for the 'family' and he can rub it in Maroni's face from now on. The Italian couldn't track down even a sliver of information about this freak.

"How about alive?"

Spinning on his heel, Gambol's eyes pop open when the Joker lunges from the pool table and grabs him. His heart stops from the cold blade against his mouth and the gloved hand wrapping around the back of his neck. His men standing by the table are on the floor with knives in their abdomen.

'Fuck!'

It all happens so fast, he barely comprehends what's going on. The men who came in with the body disarmed his gang members, holding guns to their heads and making them kneel on the ground.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" The Joker says, nodding as if answering his own question. If it's even possible, he looks crazier than the last time... Gambol never expected something like this to happen...

The clown's stringy hair is wilder, matching the manic glint in his terrible eyes. The makeup haphazardly smeared across his face makes him look even more frightening...

There are very few times that Gambol truly felt terrified, and this tops all of them.

"My father was a drinker. And a fiend... And one night, he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself... He doesn't like tha-t." Gambol attempts to move, trying to get out of this maniac's grip, but he's much stronger than he looks.

"Not. One. Bit." Joker's dark eyes stare into his own, sending chills down his spine. Why is he telling him this? After every few words, the clown's tongue traces his bottom lip up to his scar, reminding him of a hungry fighting-dog licking his chops. This man's completely insane.

"So, me watching... He takes the knife to her... laughing while he does it." The mobster freezes, feeling the blade slowly inching towards the edge of his mouth.

"He turns to me, and he says, 'Why so serious?' He comes at me with the knife. 'WHY. SO. SERIOUS?" The blade's in the corner of his mouth. If the fear in the boss's eyes hasn't given him away, the small trembles throughout his body certainly do.

'No! No! No! Someone has to stop this psycho!'

"Let's put a smile on that face!" The Joker cocks his head with a big smile, shaking Gambol to his core. "Anddd..." The deranged clown's pitch-black eyes glance over towards one of the petrified men on his knees, gun pressed hard against his temple.

"Why so serious?"

The blade rips the side of Gambol's mouth, all the way up to his ear. Tearing through the muscles and tissue, straight to the bone. Blood pours out, dripping down on to the floor. The gangster's men close their eyes at the horrible sight.

Without a second glance, Joker drops Gambol's body, and it hits the floor with a sickening thud. Grabbing the rest of the black trash bag around his chest, he quickly tears it off, letting it fall to the ground next to the body on the floor.

"Now... Our operation is small, but there's a lot of potential-" Looking around, the clown picks up one of the pool sticks. "-for aggressive expansion. So, which one of you fine gentlemen would like to join our team?" Holding the pool stick in his hands, the men glance at each other in confusion.

"Oh, but there's only one spot open right now, so we're gonna have..." He snaps it effortlessly, looking at each of the broken ends. "Tryouts..."

Deciding which side is sharper, he tosses it in the middle of the three men being held. The clown's goons let go, making them fall to their hands and knees. Looking up at each other, they know what the Joker intends for them to do.

Fight each other to the death. The last man standing has a chance of getting out of there alive, even if it means working for him.

Without a second glance, Joker strides towards the door, not caring in the least what position he just put them in or the result. None of it matters. This is all just a game.

"Make it fast."