Bruce's eyes narrowed as the black tumbler veered through an alley, cutting across street after street with a squeal of tires and smell of burnt rubber each time he gave a sharp turn. Sometimes he'd catch a glance of a panicked citizen scrambling out of the way of his vehicle, and other times people would watch in awe or even indifference. It wasn't often the batman's car was seen prowling the streets of the diamond district…and when people did see it, that usually meant something was wrong.

Buildings whizzed by, the dark concrete and stone look growing lighter, cleaner, and more ornate as he drove along. He saw less graffiti and more banks, jewelry stores, and designer clothing stores.

The diamond district in Gotham was as hoity-toity as they came, filled to the brim with the upper-crust of society and the elite…it should have been obvious this was where the Joker would plan his next ransacking.

The sounds of an alarm wailing and police lights spinning wildly, casting red light in a dizzying pattern, caused the batman to pull the brakes, skidding across the slick, wet street. His eye caught sight of a fire hydrant spewing its contents high into the air, water showering the pavement and any people passing through it to escape.

As Batman stepped out of his vehicle, he heard a chilling laugh spill through the air and froze instinctively.

"Well well! The bat comes out to play today? Good, I could use a second opinion…"

Batman whipped around and saw a grinning Joker staring back at him. The madman's body was dripping with diamonds; rings, necklaces, broaches, everything imaginable. He held out his arm and raised an eyebrow. "Tell me what you think. Too gaudy?"

"Joker, I am not going to play games with you," Batman's stone-cold voice growled as his cape flapped behind him gently.

The Joker smiled wider, as if he needed to smile any wider, and "You didn't answer my question."

Batman scowled. This madman just always had to push him…always had to see how far he could taunt the Bat. Well, Bruce was tired of playing games, and tired of letting him get away. Batman lurched forward, his fist pulled back and tight. As he readied to strike the clown, his eyes went slightly larger and he felt a horribly strong punch to the chest. His body, stopped by the impact, was flung backwards into a somersault. Joker held a retractable punching glove and cackled like a hyena. "I said, you didn't answer my question Batsy! And now look what you made me go and do!"

"I don't need to answer your questions," Batman replied gruffly. His body, still crouched low to the ground, sprang like a panther as he lunged again. He managed to grab around the Joker's twiggy legs and sent the Clown Prince down to the cold, wet pavement with a sickening slap of soggy clothes and skin. Joker squalled with laughter instead of pain as Bruce sat on the man with a fist raised. "But you can answer a few questions of mine."

The Joker sneered and gave a barking laugh. "Okay, okay, but first, I have a joke!"

"You always do," Batman grumbled.

"It's a good one too. Listen: 'What did the bat say when he faced peril?'"

Batman's eyes narrowed as his poised fist faltered and began to lower. He didn't like the delivery of the joke…he highly doubted he'd enjoy the punchline.

Joker's eyes watered as he struggled to restrain his laughter. "Wanna know? 'Nothing! Dead bats can't talk!'" The Joker reached out, a silvery revolver in his hand, and placed it to Batman's face so quickly, the Dark Knight had barely any time to react. Batman jerked his head away, tumbling off the clown, and drew back a few feet as the madman leapt up with maniacal laughter.

He pulled the trigger and Batman clenched his teeth in hatred as a stick shot out, unfurling a flag reading BANG BANG BANG!

"Oopsies! Looks like I left the good gun at home!" He squealed with utter glee. The Joker reeled back his hand and let loose a punch, hitting the stunned Caped Crusader square in the nose with his bony knuckles. "Guess this'll have to do!"

As Bruce took several steps back, contemplating his next move, he failed to see the clown toss up a round, tennis ball-sized object from his pocket. Joker lit the little fuse and grinned maniacally. "Nighty-night Batsy…"

-------------------

The fight was in full force now; so many were busy scrambling out of the way to notice the gleaming black Hummer that pulled into the shadowy safety of one of the nearby streets.

The driver leaned back, glancing over his seat at the woman in the rear and motioned over to the brawl outside.

"Here?"

"Perfect," she murmured, her face stoic and her gleaming hazel eyes widened just slightly, barely blinking. "Just perfect."

"Ms. Al Ghul," grumbled the passenger, the same body guard from the hotel and the dinner party, "I don't think it is wise to be here. I was given specific orders for your protection and coming here strictly violates—"

"Be quiet," she hissed, glaring at him. "I don't need your protection. Do you fail to remember that my father trained me personally, and I was able to defeat all the men in the League? Yourself included?"

The man's jaw muscle ticked as he recalled his defeat to the hands of a woman and let out a breath through his nose. "No, I remember."

"Then, as I said before, keep quiet or I will not be pleased, and I might as well throw you out there with the bat and that clown. Is that understood?"

"Yes Ms. Al Ghul."

Talia focused her attention once more on the fight, her eyes dancing with glee as the bat received a firm punch to the face. Hmph…I would have thought with his expertise in training, he would have been more careful.

Talia blinked as the clown pulled something from his pocket. She leaned closer to the glass window, frowning as she struggled to see it.

"Ms. Al Ghul, I…I really believe we should go now."

She placed a hand to the glass, her jaw hanging slightly slack as she quirked her head. What does he have there?

"Ms. Al Ghul—"

"Repeat my name one more time and I will—"

She heard a frantic scrambling from the front seat and looked up. The driver was crouching down as far as he could and her body guard squirmed towards her, his eyes wide.

"Get down!"

She blinked. "What?"

"DOWN!" His hands firmly grasped her shoulders and she gave a startled yelp as she and the guard hit the floor, him atop her back. The moment they made contact against the solid car floor, she heard an earth-shattering BOOM! Followed by the cracking and tinkling of glass cascading around her. Her heart pounded as heat seeped in through the broken windows and she could smell smoke in the air.

"Are you alright, Ms. Al Ghul?" Her guard breathed heavily, but she merely shoved him off and scrambled upright to stare out of the shattered window. All she could see was dust and smoke.

"Get in the front seat."

The man obeyed like a loyal dog and scrambled back to his seat as her driver rose from his crouch.

"Drive back to the hotel. I have seen enough." She looked back out the window as the smoke began to clear. She could hear the insane laughter of the clown as police tackled him to the ground with handcuffs, but the Batman…she could see nothing of what happened to him.

The engine roared to life and soon the Hummer stole off through the night back to her high-priced hotel suite. She felt relief and the end of tyranny by the bat, yet also a bit of disappointment. The Bat deserved death…but not at the expense of explosives and trickery…She frowned deeper, her forehead creasing as her perfectly shaped eyebrows drew together. He deserved a fair fight…I wouldn't have minded handing over his fate personally. The fact she had also met the man behind that mask, and even enjoyed her meal with him, also sent a strange feeling of guilt in her mind. He was a fine man, doing as he pleased…He was a good fighter from what she heard. It would have been interesting to go against him in combat.

But no. He was a menace that disobeyed her father and "killed" him…he had received his just desserts. Talia looked back over her shoulder at the clearing smoke behind her and saw a large crater in the concrete slowly filling with water from the still-spraying fire hydrant. No doubt the bat was blown to kingdom come. Perhaps now her father's plans would go unhindered.

-------------------

"Hey I was reading that!" A scrawny man shouted as Jonathan's bony fingers latched on to his newspaper and tore it away from him.

"Yeah, well…you have to learn how to share," he mumbled, stealing off to a secluded corner of the room and slumping on to the floor. He watched the other inmates carefully before spreading open the paper across the floor and running his finger along the various articles.

He caught sight of the one he was looking for and hunched over to read it.

Cont. from page 1

brief battle with Batman. The Joker then unleashed a bomb on the street that managed to blow a hole in the sidewalk as well as blast through any windows within range. Debris and glass is still being cleaned up today. The jewelry store owner was able to retrieve half of his stolen goods, but the rest was thought to be caught in the blast and either destroyed or lost among the debris. He will receive insurance compensation for those pieces.

It is unsure whether the Batman survived the blast. Pieces of his costume were retrieved but no sign of a body has been found. Officials conclude that he has indeed survived the explosion, though anyone who may have seen the body is urged to contact the police immediately.

"Well of course he survived. He always survives. Then he swoops back down to terrorize the citizens again." He looked up at a man standing beside him. "Can you believe that?"

The man glared, saying nothing.

Jonathan took this to continue. "I mean honestly, how does he survive these things? Bullets, explosions…he's a regular 6 million dollar man."

Rachel looked over in his direction as Crane continued ranting to passersby. She shook her head, looking down at the newspaper he was reading before glancing up back to him. She felt herself go rigid as the man's eyes locked with hers, piercing her very soul with his cold gaze.

"What are you looking at?" He snapped.

Rachel's jaw moved unconsciously as she struggled for the right words. But she had no time to reply, for she heard a woman's voice asking for Jonathan. The young man broke his gaze and looked past Rachel at the visitor. Rachel, too, looked over her shoulder and spotted a tall, pretty woman in the doorway. A guard pointed at Jonathan and smiled oily as the woman strode through the various inmates. Some of the goons Jonathan had placed in the asylum for Falcone, and therefore the saner of them all, grinned coyly and the young woman, some cat-calling or whistling. Rachel rolled her eyes. Didn't she know a beautiful woman like herself coming in here was like throwing a steak in front of a pack of hungry dogs?

But more importantly, didn't she know who she was vying to meet with? Crane? Why meet with him? Perhaps she was one of those women who write letters to convicts and fall in love with them.

Ugh, she thought with utter repulsion as wave of nausea rolled over her, her? In love with CRANE? Gag me with a spoon…

The woman made her way to the young man, who rose from his spot to greet her in his usual, emotionless manner. Rachel was intrigued at how he could go from madman to gentleman in an instant. The woman cast a look at the paper by his feet and turned back to speak with him. Rachel struggled to listen to their conversation. What would any gorgeous woman in her right mind want to speak to him about?

---------

"I didn't think they allowed inmates newspapers."

Jonathan shrugged. "Well, the good boys get their daily paper. People like me must take it from them."

"I see," Talia murmured, stooping down to pick it up and read the article he had been looking at. "Hm…so the bat is tough to kill…"

Crane snorted, taking the paper from her hands roughly. "Don't remind me." His quivering blue eyes checked to see if the coast was clear before leaning towards her, head low. "May I inquire as to why exactly you are here?"

"I need a look around before coming to get any blueprints. I want to know my surroundings…what I'm up against."

Jonathan shook his head, nodding at the two guards. "Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum over there are pushovers. I'm sure you can convince them, though. They seemed to take a liking to you," he sneered. She threw a look over her shoulders at the guards, who still held greasy smiles. Talia gave a noise of disgust and pursed her lips.

"I'll take them out first. Personally."

"And…what about him? It?" Jonathan pointed to the newspaper. "He'll be here."

"We are going to go through with the plans, despite this setback of whether or not Batman is still alive. If he is, he will be busy nursing his wounds or out scouring for other criminals. If he isn't…well…that makes my job a whole lot easier."

"Ms. Al Ghul, if you don't mind me asking…is your father at all involved with this?"

"My father is back home recuperating. He has given me his blessing to continue with his plans. Father believes I can destroy the batman."

Jonathan's lips turned up with an amused grin. "You think he can be destroyed? You think it's that simple? My dear, you have a fantastic imagination." Talia's stone-cold look caused Jonathan to chuckle. "Oh now, now, don't look at me like that. I'm only saying—"

"Do not be surprised tonight if the alarms go off. My men will come for the plans, and I will be back to inform you when you need to be ready."

Jonathan nodded, but as he studied her face, he suddenly latched on to her wrist. Talia turned swiftly, her free hand ready to strike, when Jonathan pointed at her face. "My…where have you been?"

She frowned. "What?"

"You have scratches…here," he pointed to her cheek and looked down at her hand. "And there…on your palm. Care to share with the class?"

Talia smiled, snapping her wrist away from him. "I don't need to explain my whereabouts to you, Mr. Crane. Just do as you are told and we will be best of friends."

"How charming," Jonathan added snidely and smirked as she turned on her heels, her long auburn hair whipping by his face with a pleasant floral scent. She disappeared out the door, only to be jeered on by the guards and inmates. Jonathan shook his head, unfolding his crumpled paper, but felt a strange feeling. The feeling of being watched. He looked up and scowled at Rachel Dawes.

"Enjoying the view Ms. Dawes?"

Rachel smiled. "No. Just wondering what a pretty woman like here was doing talking with you." She shrugged. "Do you pay her by the hour? It must get lonely in that cell."

Jonathan's lip curled in disgust at her accusation as she continued. "Or is she just some other pathetic sap you lured in with sweet talk or psychobabble?"

Jonathan laughed gently, his eyes narrowed at her. "You think she's just another one of my playthings? Another experiment to chalk up on my wall?" Jonathan shook his head, giving up on smoothing out the newspaper. "No, she's…a friend of a friend."

"You have friends?"

Jonathan flushed a bit, and his smile faltered ever so slightly. "Fine. An associate if you will. Don't act so surprised I get visitors." He quirked an eyebrow, putting on that smug expression she hated so much. "I wouldn't be one to talk if I were you Ms. Dawes. You seem pretty alone yourself…"

Rachel stiffened slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I haven't seen pretty-boy Bruce Wayne in a while…and Harvey the Terrible is M.I.A."

Rachel glared at him. "They have busy lives…"

"Too busy for their ill friend? No," Jonathan raised his eyebrows with a knowing look on his face, "that not busy…that's indifference. And why should they care? You're sick…you're just a hindrance…"

"I'm getting better…I…I am!" She snapped, just as the guard roared for them to get up and get moving back to the cells. Jonathan smiled as Rachel heaved before him.

"You keep telling yourself that, Rachel." He reached out, patting the top of her head like one would a dog and pushed past her. Rachel scowled, glaring daggers at the back of his head. That monster…it was his fault she was here in the first place. Her friends were busy with their lives…she didn't blame them.

She blamed him.

Rachel recalled the stranger that came…the pretty woman. Something was up. She knew it. He was far too smug, to cool and casual…the old lawyer in her stirred up. She needed to satisfy this curiosity. She would find out who this woman was. And she would find out what Crane was up to.


A.N.: I'm sorry, loyal viewers, for the lack of updateness or action in the story. My mind is enslaved with school, so I'm a bit low on creativity. Hopefully setting up backstory is alright with you guys :)

Thanks for reading and please review. :)