DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Joker or any other DC characters, only Julie and other OC's I implement into this book.

Crime & Chaos

" STRANGER DANGER "

by alwaysgeia

The next day, Julie's classes in college were a biological bore. The day afore, however, was a plethora of exhilaration and activity and... terror, she supposed.

Right now, though, she had a class to try and participate in. Biology was her least favourite subject in the course she was studying: Animal Management.

Even though Gotham City's cull of inculcation and regalement was limited, at least it had a college with a zoo. The animals there weren't kept in the best conditions, but it was enough that they were fed and watered conventionally. Their less-than-the-minimum-size enclosures cleaned every couple or so days. Albeit it should be every day, she cerebrated frequently.

Julie had repined multiple times about the animals' rudimental needs not being met, but alas, she was always ignored or chastised for saying anything about it. For challenging the 'authority'. As much as the staff of the zoo pressed about revering ascendancy, she had been swayed the other way around by the very same people. Call it what you will: anti-authoritarian, incompliance, yadda yadda yadda. It came as a surprise to her, but not to her mother, she had kenned that Julie was always a fiery soul, despite being a Pisces. In high school, she had often back-chatted those superior in those four or so years, an infamous line she had always said was 'respect goes both ways'. Of course, now that she was virtually an adult, she had toned down. Slightly.

"Juliette, are you paying attention?"

Julie digressed away from the window she was so intrigued by; her thoughts had been clouded by recollections of her late dad, overlapped with her latest capture of the bank heist and the larceny of her video. Her sage orbs switched to her Biology professor (Mr Lloyd), followed by a nod. She hated it when people used her full name.

The professor wasn't satisfied with that, ostensibly, "what did I just say?" Julie sneaked a glance at the board, memorising a few words.

"Something about the musculoskeletal system of a horse." She answered perfunctorily, she could research this by herself at home anyway. With a sigh, Mr Lloyd crossed his arms.

"I said, how is a horse's skeleton better adapted to running than a dog's skeleton?"

Contemplating it for a few seconds, she optically canvassed the professor, "well, they have longer legs to cover more ground when running, they have more astronomically immense shoulder blades for better kineticism... should I add some more?"

"No. Thank you, Juliette," he interrupted, a minute raise in his left eyebrow, "take notes."

On a Tuesday, all of her classes were work after work after work. On other days, like Wednesday and Thursday, there were at least two classes of working with the zoo animals. Maybe three, if the teachers were feeling altruistic themselves. In the early days of February, temperatures dropped, the sky became dull and cloudy and the latest the sunset was around 6 pm. The clock turned its hands to 16:00 pm. The terminus of that dreadful - and thankfully her last - Biology class. As Julie accumulated her folder and bag, the professor ambulated over, his face a canvas; painted with callous and firm expressions. "Do you think you're smart?" (Think you're smart, huh?) She didn't answer, just wanted to be out of the stale classroom. As she slung her chalky bag over her shoulder, she looked up at him.

"If you think that I think I'm smart, I most likely am." Without another word from either of them, Julie sauntered out of the classroom in a haste, fixated on catching the earliest bus from the college.

Unbeknownst to her, the clown she had encountered had been keeping tabs on her. The feisty little redhead had fascinated the criminal. He had had one of his men pretend to be a visitor of the college, passing Julie in the hallways and peeking through her class door windows.

The bus had arrived just as she reached the sheltered bus-stop. Sticking her arm out, the bus slowed, and the public chauffeur's doors opened for her to step on. Walking down the narrow corridor of the bus, she found a seat next to the window and claimed it as hers until she reached her destination.

Julie reposed her arm on the minuscule armrest that was propped against the window, cupping under her chin to peer outside. As repugnantly grim and infested with bacteria the armrest was, she was too tiresome to argue against it; the magnitude of writing she had done today should've been recorded in the Guinness World Records. Her other arm was occupied with her Biology folder, tapping it with her polish-chipped fingernails and her mind occupied with cussing out the reporters at The Gotham Times, repeating bastards over and over again.

With a puff of engine exhaust, the bus set into motion, the action made her head fall back gingerly against the seat.

A couple of stops passed (several passengers boarded, filling up most of the seats) and the bus ceased abruptly, causing many of the passengers to jolt forward, including Julie. She glanced over at the doors before a man boarded on to the conveyance, his purple outfit was like a vivid rainbow behind sombre clouds. Not wanting to stare, she averted her optics to peer out of the grubby window. The man looked around, spotting a seat next to a certain irritated redhead (a carrot-top, he thought funnily).

"You mind if I sit here?"

Julie glanced briefly at the vacuous seat and inched more towards the window, "sure, go ahead."

She felt his weight fall into the seat beside her; he was definitely larger than she was. Leaning her head against the window - her hair utilised as a shield against the grime - the same boring buildings filtered past, traffic lights and streetlamps became blurred and streaked because of her astigmatism and the haste of the bus, painted nails tapped apprehensively on bendy plastic. She didn't once look at him, only the faint outline of his face and the effulgent purple suit he wore was in her peripheral vision.

A half-hour passed. The boring bus journey was coming to an end, and to top it off, she had to sit next to a stranger for the entirety of it. A memory passed through her thoughts... What doesn't kill you makes you stranger. Such a weird thing to say.

She shivered as his face popped up in her head.

The man noticed the hairs on her arms stood up, despite it being a tiny action. He let a ghost of a smile paint his lips. She's a squirmer.

As the bus was approaching her destination, she pressed a faded-red STOP button next to her seat, pulling up her bag from the floor to sling over her shoulder. She mumbled an "excuse me," and the man shuffled out of his seat, stepping aside to let her into the aisle.

Julie assumed he had sat back down in his seat and so she slung her bag over her shoulder and ambulated down the aisle, waiting at the front of the bus. The bus slowed.

"Hey, Juuulie."

A chill ran down her spine.

She stepped forward, but she felt something press against her back, she could only assume it was a weapon of some sort.

"Now, now. Let's not make a scene, toots."

The bus stopped and the doors opened.

As Julie set foot off the vehicle, the man behind her followed. The pressure on her back vanished and she took a chance. With as much vigour as she could muster, she distributed a blow with her foot to his stomach. A disgruntled yell of pain was heard and as soon as she had the chance, she seized it and ran. Tears fell down her face as she sprinted across a path surrounded by trees (she had to walk down a forest path to get home).

She chanced a look behind her and cried out in fear of her life being short-lived.

The purple-clad man had recovered from the attack and started running. Fast.

Her adrenaline-filled stamina was failing her, decelerating little by little, out of breath. Her house was in view (please, please let me make it, she mentally begged).

A hand pushed her forward, making herself and her belongings topple over and she had hit her head on a tree root. She had to take a second to recuperate; the wind knocked right out of her. Sprawled on her front, she tried gripping something to hoist herself up with but her shoulders were prehended and a man coerced her on to her back. The man was straddling her, though it was hard to visually perceive his face because of her tear-blurred vision.

"Get off!" She screamed in exasperation, her hands balled into fists, hitting anywhere on his body. He reeked of male B/O, gasoline and... gunpowder?

Normally, she liked the smell of gasoline, but not right now.

Her chest heaved, the mass of his body was suffocating and he manhandled her diminutive wrists with one hand. If that's all it took for him to control her beating fists, she had already lost. Julie had almost beseeched for him to kill her. Almost. She wasn't going to be murdered by an ambulating grape. Well, not today, at least.

"This could've gone a lot smoother if you'd actually listened, Juliette. Ugh," the man had a look of abhorrence on his face, "no, no, no, Juuuliette-ah. No. Julieee. Julie Woolie, ain't that what your, uh, old man used to call ya?" She flailed her legs, trying to kick him off.

"Don't-"

"Don't what? Is, uh, papa Evans..." he leaned in close, smacked his lips together, his voice deep, "dead?"

Her endeavours to elude ceased, and so did her tears. Blinking them back, she had a better view of his face. Gnarly scars lined his mouth, a Glasgow grin on full exhibit. Stringy green curls fell over his face. Eyes sunken and unsettlingly fascinating, ebony irises with an allusion of chocolate. Chocolate was saccharine, but his eyes weren't. Was it..?

A burst of hysterical laughter erupted from his throat, his grip on her wrists slipping. Oh God, no. It was him, right? What other freaks wore a bright purple suit in the day? Looking away from the madman, she searched for a branch or a rock or something she could hit him with. Bingo.

"You're just a special little thing, ain't ya?" He breathed through giggles.

Ripping her arms away from him, she stretched her hand out to grab a rock before he could culminate his fit of mortifying cachinnation. Without a second's hesitation, she slammed a rock against the side of his head. He yelled out loudly in pain and hunched over. This was her chance.

Using his position to her advantage, Julie landed a sharp knee to his groin and a hard elbow to his ribs. She was sure she heard a crack, her own vigour scared her, but there was no time to cogitate that now. Managing to shove his weight off of her, she stumbled to her feet, snatched up her bag and folder and took off down the woodland path. Don't look back, don't look back.

Her house was 20 feet away. Please.

Sprinting towards it as fast as she could, she glanced rearwards and noticed he had only just stood up, dabbing his head with his sleeve. I can make it. Thank God.

Copying his actions, her hand reached up to touch her head, pulling it away when she felt warm blood trickle down her fingers. Gritting her teeth in panic, she hoped her mum wasn't home yet. How would she explain it?

Gripping her keys in her pocket, she put them in the door and swung it open, slamming it shut (locking it), her trembling frame leant against it.

A heftily ponderous and shaky sigh of mitigation left her lips as she revelled in the safety of her home. Well, that became short-lived. A bang on the living room window made her jump.

A shadow of violet ambulated past the window.

A man in purple.

A man with rigorous scars.

A man who was the Joker. She was sure of it.