(Hello again. I keep forgetting to say this…*clears throat*…I do not own DC Comics, or Batman, or the Joker, blah blah blah blah blah.)

Chapter Three

Samantha awoke with a start and let her eyes scan around her before pushing off the hard floor.

Her left side felt numb from how she had been sleeping. She didn't even remember lying down to fall asleep.

What time was it?

There were no windows, so she couldn't tell if it was day or night outside. Samantha regretted her choice of not wearing a watch yesterday.

Samantha stiffly got to her feet and winced at the aching all over her body. Her muscles protested the movements but she tried her best to stretch.

She limped over to the door and pressed her ear against it. Hearing no noise, she rapped her knuckles against the door.

"Hello, anyone out there?"

Samantha paused when she heard the voices of the two clowns guarding her.

"She's up."

"Go tell the Boss."

The sound of feet running off met her ears. Samantha could tell she was going to have to wait a bit.

Seven minutes passed and the door was thrown open, revealing the Joker. He was wearing a different suit this morning; a very interesting suit.

It was a long, purple coat that reached to his mid-calves, purple, pin-striped pants, a green vest, a blue hexagon patterned shirt, a blackish tie, purple leather gloves, and a pair of brown shoes.

Samantha couldn't decide whether to laugh at him or keep her mouth shut. She chose the latter and bit her bottom lip.

"Good morning, Esmeralda. Sleep well?"

The Joker walked inside the room and looked around. He pointed his index finger at her and shook it like he was getting onto an unruly child.

"You know… a, uh, girl like you shouldn't be locked away all the time. Sooo, what do you say to taking a little walk with me; hm?"

"A walk?"

"Mm-hm."

"Just a walk?"

"Yeah."

"Why am I having a hard time believing you?"

"Why, Samantha, I'm hurt," the Joker pouted.

"I bet you are," Samantha bit back sarcastically.

The Joker motioned for her to step out of the room first, which Samantha was only too happy to do. She heard him close the door behind them. When she turned to face him there was a devilish grin on the Joker's face.

"Samantha, Samantha, Samantha," he sighed, shaking his head.

Samantha folded her arms and glared at him. "Joker, Joker, Joker," she mocked.

The Joker chuckled and walked over, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Look… I know thaaat, we didn't exactly meet under good…ah…circumstances. And I thought that we should start over?"

"Oh really?" Samantha said sardonically.

The Joker stepped forward, bringing Samantha along with him. "Yeah…we should try things a little more differently." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at his henchmen. "I gotta say I wasn't exactly pleased with how my boys handled you yesterday."

Samantha pulled back to face him; he still managed to keep his arm around her shoulders. "Your boys? You were the one who had a knife up against my throat!" she scoffed.

The Joker gave her a sly grin. "Oh yeah, that was me, wasn't it?" He let out a shrill laugh.

Samantha noticed that the thugs were not following them and she and the Joker were soon walking alone. Samantha didn't like that. She didn't like being alone with him in high school when he called himself Allan Jordan and she didn't like it now when he was the Joker, the most feared man in Gotham, maybe even the country.

So why wasn't she speechless with fear? Why wasn't she begging for her life, pleading for him to let her go and not harm her?

"Because I knew him…"

A few seconds of silence had ticked past and were suddenly interrupted by the Joker clearing his throat.

"Sooooo, Samantha…How's life been to you? It's been just dandy to me! It's left me smiling!" He pointed to his scars and howled at his own joke.

Samantha waited for his laughter to subside before she answered. "It's been fine to me." She lightly bit her bottom lip before continuing. "What happened to you?"

The Joker stopped so quickly Samantha was caught off guard. He stared ahead, silent and emotionless, for almost a minute before suddenly breaking out into a grin.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" he asked her for the second time since they met. The Joker turned his head to look at her. His eyes were practically dancing with mischief.

Samantha shook her head. "No," she murmured.

The Joker's eyes dimmed at her response. "Awwww, you're no fun, Samantha."

"I'd rather be no fun than get my face carved up," She thought to herself. And she believed he'd do it too.

Samantha was not under the false sense of security that perhaps knowing the Joker would keep him from harming her. This man beside her was not the teenage boy in high school whose flirting constantly got on Samantha's nerves. This was the Joker, a mentally unstable, sadistic, psychopathic, murdering, clown…who still flirted with her.

The Joker sighed and resumed walking with Samantha at his side. "Fiiine. You'll want to know one day."

"I doubt that."

The Joker let out a disturbing giggle. His tongue darted across his lips before pulling up to a stop next to a door with a window seeing into the room behind it.

Inside the room, was maybe over twenty men lounging around and cutting up with each other, but mostly being loud.

The Joker laughed through his nose and glanced at Samantha. "Watch this," he told her.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside, tugging her into the room with him. The moment his men realized who had walked in, the volume dropped dramatically. All heads had turned to the Joker and no one dared to make a sound. Some were frozen in whatever position they had been in before the Joker walked in.

Samantha watched as the Joker tried to hide his amusement at the thugs' fear and was failing. A snicker escaped from his lips before a serious look replaced his amusement. "Hm…" he grunted.

A small tug on Samantha's elbow told her to move forward. The Joker released her arm, only to place both hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her.

"Boys, meet Samantha Reads! She'll be staying with us for awhile, sooo, be sure to make her feel comfortable!" the Joker announced gleefully.

Samantha's green eyes swept over the faces of his thugs and felt anything but comfortable. They had to be the roughest looking group of men she'd ever seen! If the Joker had been aiming to make people feel further intimidated by his goons, he hit the dead center of the bulls eye.

Samantha winced as she felt the Joker's hands begin to massage her shoulders with more pressure than was necessary. She flinched and jerked away. He cocked an eyebrow playfully and opened his red mouth to speak, but the sound of the door swinging open, stopped him.

Red had burst in, drenched with sweat and breathing heavily. His red shirt clung to his skin and his brownish jacket was half on – half off, of his shoulders. He leaned against the opened door to support himself.

Samantha felt her fist tighten when she recognized him from part of the posse who had chased her down the other day.

Red was not even paying attention to Samantha's death glare, or anyone else for that matter. His gaze was focused on the Joker.

"Boss!" he wheezed, then sucked air into his starving lungs.

Obviously the young man had been running long and hard. He looked so exhausted Samantha couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him.

The Joker briefly looked away from Red to face his thugs. "Watch her," he ordered and swiftly made his way to the red head, leading him out of the room.

Samantha nervously glanced at the men and found herself wishing the Joker had not left her. Funny how she would rather be with the Joker than with his goons.

Samantha's eyes saw a rolling chair close by and cautiously moved towards it, fully alert if one of the men tried to stop her. She sank into the seat as the noise level rose to what it use to be before she and the Joker had barged in. Samantha kept her gaze on the floor and wouldn't look anyone in the eyes, afraid it would cause trouble. The henchmen paid little attention to her and that suited Samantha just fine.

One thug turned up the radio to the song "Feel Good Inc."

"City's breakin' down on a camel's back,
They just have to go 'cos they don't know whack,
So while you fill the streets it's appealing to see,
You won't get out the county, 'cos you're mad and free."

One clown man had been watching Samantha for awhile and finally walked behind her. He started to roll her chair around, grinning when he saw her hands clamp around the armrests at the sudden movement. He finally twirled the chair around so Samantha could see him.

"Hey," he said as he bent over her.

Samantha leaned as far back in the seat as she possibly could. Some of the clown men were watching them.

"How 'bout a kiss, huh?" the man asked, leaning closer.

"No."

"Aw, come on."

"No."

"Come on!"

The man grabbed her chin and was about to force his lips onto hers when he was suddenly pulled off. The Joker glared as he stood where the man had been. The Clown's grip was firmly on the back of the thug's shirt. The goon looked terrified.

Samantha caught sight of the Joker's face and shivered. He was staring at the man in a way that chilled her. Samantha noticed that it had gotten quiet and that everyone was watching.

The Joker released the thug and gave him a slight push. "Were you just trying to, uh, kiss Miss Samantha, here?" the Joker asked.

"No," the man lied.

The Joker raised his eyebrows. He moved over to stand behind Samantha and placed his hands on her shoulders. He lowered his chin to rest on the top of her head, making Samantha wish the chair would swallow her.

"You meeean to tell me, you weren't about to grab her face and plant one on her? She's a very beautiful woman, right boys?" the Joker asked, looking at everyone in the room. All the men quickly nodded or voiced their agreement. The Joker's brown eyes rested on the thug again. "Don't you agree?"

The thug nervously shifted his gaze from the Joker to Samantha and then back at the Joker.

"You were going to kiss her. I mean, come on, the opportunity would be too good to pass up, wouldn't it?"

The man started to relax. The Joker lifted himself off of Samantha and slowly walked around the chair to be in front of her. "I can't blame you for wanting to kiss her…Simon, isn't it?"

"Yes sir."

"Sooo…" the Joker wet his lips. "I'm asking you, Simon…Were. You. About. To. Kiss. Her?"

Simon slowly nodded. "Yes sir," he answered.

The Joker beamed and gave Simon a pat on the back. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" He pulled out a gun and aimed at Simon.

"Whoa! Boss, I was kidding!" Simon yelped.

The Joker pulled the trigger and a BANG flag came out. Simon heaved a sigh of relief. The Joker burst into laughter as he put an arm on Simon's shoulder. "So was I," he laughed.

Simon let out an uneasy chuckle.

Samantha felt her stomach muscles tighten. Something wasn't right. Something else was going to happen.

The Joker took two steps away from Simon and paused. He casually turned around, pointed the gun at Simon and pulled the trigger.

Simon fell to the floor with the BANG flag's metal pole protruding from his chest.

"Oops… No, I wasn't," the Joker said gravely.

The Joker spun on his heels and faced the rest of the boys, pointing out two from the group. "Dopey and Stupid, take out the trash," he ordered.

The two goons jumped up and grabbed Simon's body, hurrying off to dispose of it.

All the while, Samantha had been trying to remain invisible. It didn't last long.

The Joker sauntered over to Samantha and put a hand over her shoulder on the back of the chair. "Listen, if anybody else pulls a stunt like him, you come and tell me. You got it?" he asked.

Samantha nodded, still in shock and unable to find her voice.

"Good," he said, grinning. He spun her chair around before walking away. "She's a 'No Touch Zone', boys," the Joker announced loudly for all to hear.

The thugs turned their heads as one, in Samantha's direction.

Now she really wished the chair would swallow her. Samantha looked down, avoiding their stares and noticed her hands were trembling. She tightly clutched the arm rests to make them stop.

The Joker stood in the center of the room and clapped his gloved hands together once. "Now, Red has just informed me of a meeting that's going to take place, involving some cer-tain mob leadersss. And I'll need…oh, let's just go with five, five of you to accompany me and Samantha to this said meeting."

Samantha's head snapped up. Did she hear him right? Why was the Joker taking her along with him?

The Joker chose Red and four others. They slipped on their clown masks and followed when the Joker motioned with his hand for them to do so.

Samantha was roughly pulled out of her chair and felt an arm snake its way around her waist. "Let's go, Samantha," the Joker said cheerfully.

The Joker grinned at her impishly as he led the way out of the room, down hallways, a few stairs and finally to a very empty indoor parking lot. The only thing in sight was a white working van with tainted windows too dark to see the interior of the vehicle. It was the van Samantha had been tossed around inside from the Joker's driving.

She held in a groan when she was taken to the passenger seat and found out the Joker was driving. He noticed her uneasy expression and giggled as she fastened her seatbelt.

"Don't worry, Samantha, I'll go easy on ya."

"Yeah, sure you will," Samantha scoffed.

The Joker chuckled and ran his tongue over his mouth.

"Why do I have to go?" Samantha asked hesitantly.

The Joker gave her a side long look while he put the key in the ignition. "Do you think you'd want to be alone with them while I'm gone after that little incident a few minutes ago? Hm?"

Samantha was quiet.

"I didn't think so," the Joker sighed and turned the key. The engine roared to life and the Joker cackled as he nailed the gas pedal to the floor with his foot.

During the whole ride, Samantha could hear the thugs' voices of annoyance or the dull thud their bodies made when they were thrown against the walls in the back of the van. Thank God she was wearing a seatbelt! All her life, she had never met a person who drove as reckless as the clown beside her. He only let out peels of laughter whenever he would narrowly avoid wrecking into another vehicle.

Samantha clutched her armrest, her knuckles soon turning white. The Joker patted her hand in a mockingly sympathetic way. "It's all right, Daddy's got it all under control," he snickered.

Samantha jerked her hand away from his touch and frowned. "If you ever refer to yourself as 'Daddy' again, I will smack you so hard, you'll be left without a punch line!" she hissed.

The Joker banged his fist on the wheel, laughing hysterically. "Same old Samantha!"

Samantha turned her face to look out the side window and ignore him.

"By the way, how is 'Daddy' and 'Mommy'?"

He saw how she stiffened and a smirk curled his mouth. Now she was probably worrying about her parents and what he would do to them.

"They're dead."

Wait, what? Did she say they were dead?

"I'm sorry?"

It wasn't an apology, it was a question.

Samantha faced the Joker. "They're dead. Because some stupid idiot was being reckless while he drove and rammed into our car; I lived but the impact killed them! Just like you'll kill us if you don't slow down!"

The Joker was surprisingly quiet after her outburst. He didn't laugh and he didn't slow down, he just kept his eyes on the road.

So Samantha's folks were dead? Hm…He had only met them a handful of times, like at big school events or when Samantha's drama class was performing. 'Allan Jordan' had even had a small talk with her old man about something unimportant.

Did he care that they were six feet under? Of course not; but it just felt…strange, knowing they were gone.

The Joker remembered once after a drama performance, that Samantha and her parents were leaving the auditorium and Allan Jordan held open the door for them. Mrs. Reads had smiled and thanked him then told her daughter in a not-too-inconspicuous way, how 'sweet and chivalrous' he was. Samantha had turned a deep shade of crimson and began increasing her walking pace.

Oh, if Mrs. Reads could see him now, she'd have an entirely different opinion and wouldn't be trying to set her daughter up with him!

The Joker gave a short laugh and turned the wheel sharply to the left. Samantha drew air in through her teeth at how sudden the turn had been. She shut her eyes and prayed she'd be alive at the end of the drive.

…

"Wakey, wakey! Open those pretty eyes, Samantha, we're here."

Samantha's eyes flew open and she looked around. Had she actually fallen asleep?

Her door opened and she was jerked out of the seat. Samantha stumbled and bumped into the person holding onto her arm. The Joker. Of course; who else would it be?

Samantha took in her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was. The Thomasina Arms, a slightly fancy restaurant and club hotspot for the people who ran questionable businesses. It wasn't exactly located in the best part of Gotham…then again; did Gotham even have a nice part?

The Joker's unique voice broke into her thoughts; barking orders at two clowns to follow him and for the other three to stay with the van and watch Samantha. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

He pulled her over to the side door, which was still open, and sat Samantha down on the floor. "Now you just sit there until I get back. 'Kay?"

The Joker gave Samantha a hard pat on the cheek and turned to leave. He stopped in front of Red and glanced at Samantha from over his hunched shoulder. "Keep an eye on her, she's a tricky little thing," he warned and continued walking away.

Samantha felt her cheeks burn. Just because he was probably 6'1, didn't mean he could call her 'little'. She was taller than most women.

"Oh let it go!" she told herself.

Samantha rolled her eyes at how she was letting something so trivial get to her. He had always been able to do that to her. Samantha couldn't help but give a wry smile.

"He hasn't lost his touch."

Samantha stared thoughtfully at the trio of clowns guarding her.

"Now to think of a way to get rid of the three stooges."

…

The lead mobsters of Gotham were gathered inside the Thomasina Arms' kitchen, along with some of their gang members to act as body guards and to show off to the other mobsters. They were all sitting at some foldable tables that had been put together to make it large enough to seat them.

Salvatore Maroni, the man who took over for Carmine Falconi after his mental breakdown, was there along with mobsters Gambol, and a Russian who went by Chechen and seemed to be friends with Maroni.

Chechen had been the last to arrive and spotted the empty chair Maroni had been saving for him. He headed over and greeted his Italian friend by clasping his outstretched hand. Maroni used his free hand to pat Chechen's enclosed fist before he took the unoccupied chair.

Just as Chechen was settling down, two Asians entered, hauling a T.V. in and placing it at the end of the makeshift table.

The mobster to Maroni's left frowned. "What's this?" he asked annoyed, gesturing to the T.V.

At that moment, the screen clicked on, revealing an Asian in a business suit, with puffy eyes. This man was Mr. Lau, who was trying to get a joint Chinese venture with Wayne Enterprise, and also in league with the men gathered together.

Mr. Lau began speaking without introducing himself. His English was perfect but there was still a very noticeable Chinese accent.

"As you're all aware, one of our deposits was stolen. A relatively small amount, 68 million."

Chechen was hunched over the table as he rested his arms on the surface. "Who's stupid enough to steal from us?" he asked in his thick, Russian accent.

Unlike Lau, Chechen could not speak English perfectly, so his sentences sometimes came out choppy.

Maroni came into the conversation. "Two-bit wack job, wears a cheap purple suit and make up." He shook his head in a careless manner. "He's not the problem; he's a nobody."

Maroni mirrored his friend's position, hunching over the table and interlocking his fingers as he faced Lau. "The problem is, our money being tracked by the cops."

"Thanks to Mr. Maroni's well placed sources we know that police have indeed identified our banks using marked bills and are planning to seize your funds today," Lau informed them.

Maroni saw Gambol visibly stiffen from across the table in front of him. Gambol was known for having a temper. He squeezed his fists together as his chest heaved.

Lau continued on, "And since the enthusiastic new DA has put all my competitors out of business, I'm your only option."

"So what are you proposing?" Maroni asked.

"Moving all deposits to one secure location, not a bank."

"Where then?" Gambol snapped.

"No one can know but me."

Gambol and his men didn't look convinced.

"If the police were to gain leverage over one of you, everyone's money would be at stake," Lau explained.

Chechen pointed at him. "What stop them getting to you?" he asked.

Lau already had an answer for that. "I go to Hong Kong, far from Dent's jurisdiction and the Chinese will not extradite one of their own."

Maroni sat back in his chair before asking, "How soon can you move the money?"

"I already have."

Several eyebrows were raised at his statement.

"For obvious reasons, I couldn't wait for your permission. Rest assured, your money is safe."

Gambol didn't look very assured. Maroni didn't seem too worried, so Chechen wasn't bothered.

The sound of the metal door opening behind the group came as a surprise, and so was the unexpected laughter that came with it. It sounded so hollow and forced. Everyone's head turned in its direction.

"Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha …oh hee-hee, aha. Ha, ooh, hee, ha-ha, ha-ha. And I thought my jokes were bad," the Joker said as he strolled into the room and cocked his head to the right.

Gambol glared murderously at the Joker. "Gimme one reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off?" he threatened while gesturing to the man sitting at his right.

The Joker faced him, looking not in the least bit intimidated. "How 'bout a magic trick?" he asked, calmly.

Gambol was caught off guard by his random question.

The Joker pulled out a yellow pencil and brought it down hard, lead side first, into the table's surface. He let go of the pencil and it stood by itself. The Joker moved his purple gloved hands around it in a mystical manner.

"I'm gonna make this pencil disappear," he told them.

The look on Gambol's face had not changed as he signaled his man by jerking a thumb at the clown. Gambol's man silently moved from his seat and headed for the Joker.

As soon as he was within reach the man stretched out a hand to grab the Joker's throat, but the Joker blocked his arm and used his free hand to latch onto the back of the man's head, swiftly bringing it down on top of the pencil.

The Joker released him and let his body collapse on the floor, while in one fluid movement, he extended his arm out to grab a chair and sat down as he used the other to motion towards the space the pencil had been.

"Ta-da!" he sang. The Joker's eyes stared at the dent in the table and moved his hand like a magician. "It's –ah- it's gone," he said darkly.

The Joker moved his black eyes up to stare at the mob leaders, making him look menacing.

Chechen found himself nodding his head, slightly impressed with the 'magic trick'.

The Joker faced forward and began to adjust his coat. "Oh, and by the way, the suit, it wasn't cheap. You outta know, you bought it," he teased.

Gambol jumped to his feet, but was stopped by Chechen. "Sit! I want to hear proposition."

Gambol glared intensely at the Joker, who merely wet his lips and pointed at Chechen as if to say, "You heard the man."

Gambol reluctantly lowered himself back into his chair, clearly loathing the Joker who sat at the head of the table.

…

Samantha put her feet down on the pavement as she sat on the floor of the van, and let her legs hang out of the open door.

The Joker had left about fifteen minutes ago and his thugs were getting restless.

Samantha had secretly given them names, based off their masks. Blue Lips, Whistle, and then there was Red, but the Joker also called him Red. Whether it was his real name or because of his red hair, it was the only name she knew him by, so that's who he was to her.

She tried to look as calm as possible so they would let their guard down; which eventually, they did. They didn't stand as close to her as they had started out and they held their guns lazily at their sides.

Blue Lips gave a sound that resembled a yawn. "Dude, how much longer is he gonna take?" he asked.

Red looked at his wrist watch and shrugged. "Who knows," he answered.

Blue Lips sighed and leaned against the hood of the van while Whistle amused himself by kicking a chunk of broken concrete across the pavement.

Red was the only one who seemed to actually be taking his guarding duty seriously, but even his attention was starting to wander as the minutes ticked by. Samantha readied herself.

When Red's back faced her, she knew it was time.

Samantha dashed out of the van and ran down the alley directly in front of her.

"Dude, she's runnin'! She's runnin'!" Red yelled. He and the two other clowns took off after Samantha.

She made it to the end of the alley but came to a high metal gate blocking her escape. Samantha climbed the gate without hesitation. Whistle jumped up and clung to her left leg. She kicked him off and continued to climb.

Blue Lips launched his body as high as possible before grasping the gate and nimbly scaled the gate. He nearly had her, but she jumped over to the other side of the fence before he could touch her. Whistle and Red ran to find another way to overtake her as Blue Lips continued to give chase.

Samantha's lungs were aching and she felt herself slowing down.

"Keep going!" she urged her legs. She needed to think of something.

Samantha rounded a corner in an alley and Blue Lips couldn't see her anymore. He turned into the corner, expecting to find Samantha, but she was gone.

There were no other turns, the only way to go was straight ahead and there was no way Samantha had made it out that fast. He stood there, dumbfounded for a moment. Then a blow to the abdomen sent him crashing to the ground.

Samantha had leapt out with a lead pipe from behind a dumpster and swung with all she had.

At that moment though, the other two clowns had shown up and spotted her.

"It just doesn't stop!" Samantha thought furiously.

Blue Lips groaned and slowly lifted himself off the pavement as Whistle and Red came closer. Soon the three of them had Samantha surrounded. She gripped the lead pipe tightly. Blue Lips took a step forward and she raised her weapon, threateningly.

"You want more?" she growled.

Blue Lips hesitated.

A movement was caught by the corner of Samantha's eye. She whirled around, ready to crack a skull, but the pipe was yanked out of her hands and her arms were caught by Red. Samantha struggled against him.

"Remember, don't hurt her, or else you'll end up like Simon," Whistle warned Red.

"I don't need to be reminded," Red mumbled. He glanced over at Blue Lips, who was hunched over, holding his stomach.

"You hurt bad?" Whistle asked.

"That little slut swings like a professional baseball player!" Blue Lips moaned, causing his comrades to laugh. "It's not funny!" he snapped.

They continued to laugh anyway as Samantha was dragged back to the van.

…..…..

The Joker made a winding motion with his left hand. "Let's wind the clocks back a year." He looked up at the ceiling briefly before returning his eyes to the mob. "These cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of to you…" The Joker gave them a questioning expression and gestured towards them as he shrugged. "I mean…what happened, di-did your balls drop off? Hm?" He raised his eyebrows when no one said a word.

The Joker looked down at the top of the table and traced something invisible with his fingers. "You see, a guy like me-."

"A freak," Gambol hissed.

The Joker continued staring at the table. "A. Guy. Like. Me…Look, listen…" The Joker leaned forward and ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. He looked up from the table and narrowed his darkened eyes. "I know why you chose to have your little-," he cleared his throat, "group therapy sessions in broad daylight."

Gambol threw the Joker a sneer that went ignored.

"I know why you're afraid to go out at night…the Batman," the Joker said dramatically.

No one said a word but he could tell he had struck the very thing that worried them.

Maroni kept his eyes on the clown as he spoke; occasionally glancing at the faces of others to see that they were hanging on the Joker's every word. Chechen was definitely listening by the way he was leaning over the table, his eyes never straying away from his painted face.

"See, Batman has shown Gotham your true colors, unfortunately. Dent," the Joker waved a dismissive hand, "he's just the beginning." He suddenly pointed a purple glove at Lau on the T.V. screen. "And as for the, uh, the television's so-called plan, Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him and make him squeal!" The Joker squeezed his fists tightly to emphasize his words. "I know the squealers when I see them, aaaannd…" the Joker merely looked accusingly at the Asian and pointed at him.

Lau covered the camera lens with his hand and the screen blinked out as he turned off the camera.

"What do you propose?" Chechen asked.

The Joker turned his attention to Chechen and the mobsters; brushing some stray green strands of hair from his face. "It's simple. We, uh, kill the Batman."

This response received some chuckles of disbelief.

"If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already?" Maroni asked in a criticizing tone.

The Joker pointed at him. "If you're good at something, never do it for free," he replied.

"How much you want?" Chechen inquired, tilting his head to the side and sitting back in his seat.

The Joker pushed his upper lip with his tongue and moved closer to the table. "Uuh, half." That got even more laughs, but he ignored them.

"You're crazy," Gambol sneered.

The Joker's eyes instantly locked on him. "I'm not. No, I'm not-ah," he said darkly, emphasizing the 't'. He chewed the inside of his right cheek. "If we don't deal with this now, soon…," he shrugged, giving a comedic look of uncertainty and then wagged a finger at Gambol. "Little, uh, Gambol here, won't be able to get a nickel for his grandma," the Joker said with a grin.

Gambol's patience had worn down. He violently slammed a palm onto the table. "Enough from the clown!" he yelled and stood up.

The Joker rapidly leapt to his feet and took a step back from the table. He grabbed the left side of his coat and extended his arm, revealing the inside of it. Grenades were attached to the pink silk lining and purple strings were tied to the pins.

The Joker hooked his right thumb into the metal ring he had at the end of all the strings. "Ah-ta-ta-ta. Let's not blow…"

The mobsters shot out of their chairs' some swore, but no one moved towards him. Gambol froze in his place as he stared at the grenades.

The Joker gently tugged on the strings as he finished his sentence. "This out of proportion."

"You think you can steal from us and just walk away?" Gambol asked incredulously.

"Yeah," the Joker said simply.

"I'm puttin' the word out. Five hundred grand for this clown dead, a million alive, so I can teach him some manners first."

The Joker was silent a moment, licking the corner of his mouth before he reached into another coat pocket. "All right. Sooo, listen, why don't you give me a call when you wanna start taking things a little more seriously." He pulled out a joker card. "Here's. My. Card."

He slowly laid the card face up, on the table, his black eyes darting everywhere. The Joker began to slowly back away. "Mm-mm," he sang softly as he gave another playful tug on the strings.

No one dared to move, not even Gambol. The Joker backed up to the kitchen door and used his foot to kick it open. He ducked inside, finally turning his back to the mobsters.

The Joker let go off the ring and began to run as quickly as possible to the stairs, passing the two goons he had waiting for him. They hastily followed after their boss.

He hummed a little ditty he made up on the spot as the Joker slid down the stair rail and gave a carefree leap when he reached the bottom.

The goons didn't slide, but chose to take the stairs two steps at a time. The Joker let out a laugh and kept walking.

(Must I really ask what I want? Okay; fine. Reviews! I want reviews! … Please. Much appreciated.)