Cool metal was suddenly at my neck. I froze. I didn't try and run. I didn't utter a word. If you had been a fly on the wall, I the expression on my face would be pure terror. I guess the Joker had seen that too, as he uttered a deep throated, squeaky chuckle that sent shivers down my spine. I knew not to move though, because if I had, he would have slit my throat right on the spot without a second thought. All of a sudden, I felt an arm snake around my waist and turn me around to face him.

"And just who might you be?" Curiosity and lust flickered in his eyes. I didn't reply. He kept asking me questions.

"You seem nervous," he said with mock worry in his voice "Is it the scars?"

I simply stared with a dumb look on my face. In my mind, however, I was scolding myself. I had worked so hard to avoid this man; hanging on the news's every word, remembering locations to stay away from. I never went out by myself at night and always traveled with a group of friends when I did. Yet still, the one place I expected myself to be safe, he shows up.

At this point, I finally got a good look at his face. It took every ounce of the will in my body not to cringe. Charcoal eyeliner lined his eyes up to his eyebrows, making them look sunken in. White face powder was plastered on his face, which made him look like a ghost. His lips were what really got me though. They were blood colored and had a Glasgow smile, something I had seen the boys do to a couple of people that hadn't paid them their money on time. Top it off with a purple and green suit and super faded green and greasy hair and you have the basic picture of the man I was body to body with. Not the most pleasant thing to look at, if you know what I mean. Unfortunately, he caught me staring, and called me out on it.

"What happened doll, you look love struck." He said, pressing the blade a little bit harder into my skin, probably for not answering his questions. He drew blood. I finally mustered up the courage to speak, knowing I couldn't stay silent much longer if I wanted to come out of this alive.

"W- What do you want?" I asked quietly and desperately, searching his eyes for the slightest twinge of sympathy. I found none.

"She speaks!" he said, breaking into a fit of laughter. I relaxed because he moved the blade away from my neck, but as soon as I did, the blade was again at my neck. He was still laughing, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world.

"I-I want HAHAHAHAHA" he said trying to regain his composure, which, by the looks of him, wasn't working too well. I felt that I was going to die, not from this clown who clearly didn't have any intentions on explaining his purposes to me, but from pure fear and shock.

All of a sudden, the maniacal laughter stopped and he was serious again. Blade, faithfully at my throat, reminding me of the very real possibility of my death, he spoke.

"What I want," he whispered dangerously in my ear "is to know where the party is. Because I know that at eight o'clock in the morning, people that drive Bentleys and Aston Martins don't usually show up at a nightclub just for breakfast and a car wax. "

Immediately I knew he was talking about Sally and Gamble. He knew about the morning meetings. But most of all, he knew that I knew where they met, and that instant I knew what he wanted me to do. But, in spite of all that, I decided to play dumb.

"What are you talking about?" I said with the best incredulous voice I could muster. I looked up at him again to see his facial expression. What I saw scared the living shit out of me. His brown eyes seemed to turn to pools of black ink and the blade was pressed up against my throat even harder than before. Any harder, and the Joker wouldn't have to slit my throat, I'd die from the pressure of the blade. He uttered a sick chuckle.

"Oh, see you're funny. You think that because I look like a clown I'm stupid. I'm not. And in all honesty, I'm getting tired of you wasting my time. Now I know you know where all the drug men of Gotham meet because you served them drinks. At this point, you're either going to lead me to them, or you die in the name of stupidity." He said, venom dripping from his words.

"So, what'll it be?" I looked up at him for about the third time in this whole exchange and saw impatience and anger mixed with mental instability, a lethal cocktail shaken into one very dangerous man. I weighed my options and sighed. I had been defeated.

"The drug lords meet every morning at nine in the kitchen. I'll lead the way."

He uttered a deep throated giggle.

"That-a girl." The blade was removed from my neck and pocketed, and I sighed with relief. My sigh was replaced with a yelp as a felt cool metal at the back of my thin t-shirt. The Joker had replaced the knife, with a loaded gun.

"Walk, beautiful. I wouldn't want to have to shoot ya…yet." I quickly ran from behind the counter, Jokers footsteps close behind mine.

Trudging along, I tripped and landed with a thud. I looked to see what I tripped on and saw Sara's body, cold and lifeless with a deep gash across her throat. I covered my mouth and screamed.

The one person who had truly cared about me was gone. Yes it's true, the mob bosses are my friends, but they are only as long as I don't rat them out, which was exactly what I was doing. The second I do, I'm a wanted girl, and the men won't stop until they see me in the grave. I got up, horrified, but kept walking. I asked him why he killed Sara.

"She was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time and I was bored." He said with such a cavalier tone that I wanted to slap him, but didn't dare try it. Groping through the darkness down the hallway toward the kitchen, there was only one thought in my mind: Please God, don't let him shoot me the second I open the door.

I made one last turn and saw the fluorescent lights, pots and pans marking the kitchen. I turned around looking for the Joker. He was nowhere in sight, which worried me because it was dark and at any moment he could have pulled the trigger on me and the only thing that would be heard was Bang!.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck raise and the inclination to scream intensify as I heard a "Boo!" and hands on the back of my shoulders, pushing me forward. The double doors parted and The lights streamed in on my face, causing me to squint from all the darkness I had previously walked through. At a conference table I saw all ten drug lords of Gotham sitting down, with a television set at the head with an Asian man speaking from it. The men's bodyguards started to approach me and I became frightened. Maroni and Gamble saw me, and while they had surprised looks on their faces, called the bodyguards off.

"Kara," Gamble said, looking at me as if I had three heads "Why are you here?"

"Umm," I replied, fumbling for words, "Someone is here to see you. I think you should speak to him." I spun around looking for the Joker. He was nowhere to be found. I'm screwed! I thought to myself. Without the Joker, I'll look like I was snooping and then they'll all sick the bodyguards on me.

Then, almost as if on queue, I hear the swish of a purple trench coat and the bellowing of a very squeaky, childlike yet dramatic voice say, "The fun has arrived!".