Title: Deadly Game of Cards

Chapter Completed: April 8, 2004

Two Years Later: The halls of Arkham Asylum were quiet, strangely quiet. The gothic building had an ominous feel, even without its inmates. Usually deranged laughter and cries filled the chasmic space, but on this night, at this hour, everyone was still and silent.

Boots clinked on the cold cement floor. On a typical night the guards would be making rounds now, but not tonight. She made sure of that. In her 'gifted' way she had gained the security keys and was making her way to the Violent Criminals Ward, leaving the two guards self-cuffed to their chairs. It always amused her to see what she could make men do; it was their thoughts that scared her.

She unlocked the large, heavy metal door and entered the darkest corridor of the building. It was then that she realised she didn't know where she was headed. She knew what she wanted, but not where to get it.

Carefully she crept to the first solidly encased cell. The only way to see in was through the small barred window on the door. As she peered into the dark room another pair of eyes and face popped into the rectangular space. She jumped back, more in surprise than fear.

"Pretty lady," Croc croaked, baring his gnarled teeth through grey-scaled skin – his attempt at a smile.

"Thanks doll," she smiled back, taking the time to scan his thoughts. Not so surprisingly to those who know him, Croc had none. She relaxed, leaning against the door to get a better look inside, "Can you help a girl out big fella?" Her voice took on a sweet, musical tone.

The large inmate almost looked bashful, sheepishly looking at his clawed feet.

"I'll take that as a yes," she muttered to herself, "I'm looking for someone to help me…but I don't know where to find him."

His head shot back up, "me help! Me help!"

"Okay, good start," she smiled again, big and false. "There's someone specific I'm looking for…The Joker."

The mammoth creature on the other side of the cell wrinkled his scaly brow. He was thinking. "Um…down tha hall," he pointed, although she couldn't see him from the darkness.

"Ah, thanks." She wrinkled her own nose as she stared down the dim hall. This little conversation hadn't helped her at all.

She stepped back from the door and began the trek. There was only one other time she was even in a place like this, but never LIKE THIS. Quickly she shook the memory from her head, she had a mission of sorts to finish and delving into the past wouldn't do her any good.

When reaching the end of the corridor she heard the one thing that told her she was in the right spot and hadn't wasted her night; twisted laughter. She peeked into another cell, 0801, and found the emerald haired man laid out on his cot. His head dangling over the edge in mad giggles.

She smiled in her own twisted grin and drummed her fingers on the door to gain his attention.

The ghostly pale man sat up at the noise. He cocked his head to the side, regarding the pair of eyes staring at him with curiosity.

"Trouble sleeping?" she stepped back slightly, so her face was visible through the small window, with her teasing smile.

"And miss a moment of the night life here? Never!" The Joker hopped off the tiny bed and, as best he could trapped in a straightjacket, charged the door.

She mock-pouted, "And here I was going to let you out," she held up a set of stolen keys, "while you're having so much fun."

His green eyes widened at the sight of the shiny keys, like a starving man with a steak. He licked his ruby lips, "I might be persuaded to leave the party early."

She laughed, but took the time to read the new mystery in front of her. Unlike regular minds of conscious and unconscious thoughts, this was jumbled. Laughter, ranting, creaming and words. Loud noises really.

"If I let you outta here, you have to promise to help me with something," she stated the conditions.

He scowled, as best he could with a permanent grin, "And just who are YOU to order ME around?"

"Other than the girl with the keys?" she jingled the ring in question, "Star." She gave a cheap curtsey.

"Star?" he raised an eyebrow at her, slowly looking her over, from her purple dipped hair to her black heeled boots. A large purple star adored the tight black shirt she wore, prominently over her chest.

Star crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot in lack of patience, "Make up your mind…I could always get that thing down the hall to help me." She looked down the corridor toward Croc's cell.

"Well, you have a passion for purple," he grinned with crocked lips, "Spring me doll!"

Using the stolen keys Star unlocked the massive door, unleashing the Crown Prince of Crime back onto Gotham.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" the inmate clown padded into the dark hall, barefooted, and began sizing up this new female again, only closer now. "The things I could do to her with a rubber chicken"

"First, you might wanna clean up those thoughts," the purple and black clad woman glared at him, "Then, maybe you're self?" It was her turn to size him up now. The dingy white straightjacket and grey uniform did nothing for the pale skin of the clown.

He shrugged his shoulders as if he really didn't care, almost as if bored, "Where are the guards?" the random thought popped into and out of his head.

"I told them to keep each other tied up," she shrugged now, nonchalantly.

"You don't look crazy," he switched thoughts again, as he began evaluating her.

"I'm not," she stated bluntly, "They think I am. Seems being in the same room as people who make themselves into road pizza makes some one crazy." She shrugged and smiled, "Or did she push them?" She laughed a little at her own little joke.

The Joker slipped into his own world again, having become bored with her story and began fidgeting with the cotton, backward jacket encasing him.

Star shrugged a shoulder and moved to assist him. One leather strap and buckle at a time the Arkham resident was freed, but still unfashionably dressed.

"OH! These are yours," she dropped a duffel bag to the floor and kicked it toward him.

He reached down and began rummaging through the contents: his suit, playing cards and various other confiscated trifles. He pulled out the royal purple zoot suit and stared at her.

"Don't be getting bashful on me now doll," she teased, turning her back to him, the idea of offering privacy. But Star was about to learn an important lesson when it came to the Geisha of Giggles – never turn your back on him.

As she turned away one of the newly reacquired death cards sailed by her head and wedged itself into the wall. The Joker himself was about to learn a lesson about the mysterious Star. She moved her head the quarter of an inch away from the razor edged card- just enough to avoid being sliced by it.

Star turned back around to face him, a ghost of a smile haunting her face, "You have such visual thoughts, you might want to control that." The smile slipped to a sneer, giving him a warning, "Get dressed clown." A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as a different though echoed into his head, "Maybe later, if you're a good boy." She winked at and turned back around.

Gingerly, she worked the playing card from its wedged place in the wall. She then pulled a small envelope from her person and proceeded to tack it up with the card. A good way to leave a message. The small purple envelope, addressed with a bat logo adorned with a pink bow over it's head, was stuck to the wall with a razor edged Queen of Spades. A good way to get the attention that it deserved.

"Ready to roll" Star turned around in time to watch the Joker pin the unassuming pink flower into his lapel.

"Born ready," he let out a string of giggles that meshed with the insane cries of the asylum.

The evil danger of the Joker was unleashed on Gotham, and an equally dangerous figure held all the cards.