Only a moment after I got back to my apartment, I am taken aback by a sudden hug. Apparently, Devyn had come over to see if I was alright. She gripped me in a bone-crushing hug.
"I'm not about to lose my best friend to the Joker!" she half-shouts, placing her head onto my shoulder as she continued to hug me.
"Dev, I'm fine," I pat my best friend's back. "Joker let me go."
Devyn pulls away from me, her brow furrowed.
"He… let you go? He didn't hurt you?"
I nod. "He just made me swear not to tell Batman."
"Well, I'm pretty sure all of Gotham knows that the asshole was spotted today, so…"
I nod and limp into my apartment. Devyn's eyes widen.
"I knew you were hurt!"
"Dev, I fell in the explosion… I just twisted my ankle," I tried to calm her, showing the ACE wrap that was wound expertly around the bottom couple of inches of my leg and halfway over my foot.
"How did you get out? You can barely walk even with that wrapped."
"I, uh, was carried out," I blush at the memory of Bruce Wayne's strong, muscular arms carrying me to the awaiting ambulance.
"Was he hot?" Dev laughs, no doubt seeing the blush on my face.
"Haha, yeah, he was," I brush a hand through my hair, sweeping a couple of locks behind my ear.
"Well, who was he?"
"You wouldn't believe if I told you."
"Tell me!" Devyn folds her hands in front of her in a begging gesture.
"Alright, okay. It was…" I pause for dramatic effect. "Bruce Wayne."
Dev's hands silently fall, and her jaw hits the floor as I retell my chance encounter with the one and only Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy and business owner, Gotham City's most eligible bachelor, Prince of Gotham.
"THE Bruce Wayne?" she squeals.
I nod. "Yeah, and he's even more handsome in person. Now, can you please pick up your jaw from the floor? I just cleaned the floors," I smirk.
Suddenly she groans and throws a nearby pillow at me.
"Why do you have all the luck?"
"I wouldn't exactly call today 'good luck' Dev," I crossed my arms, my hands grabbing my elbows; my eyes widened slightly at her comment.
"Oh, you know what I mean, Eve."
"Yeah, yeah. And anyway, he was just doing the right thing," I wave my arm and flit my fingers in a sweeping motion to signal that I took it as nothing important.
"But he stayed to see if you were okay! Eve, that's something. If he were just 'doing the right thing,'" she air quoted, "then he would have just dropped you off at the ambulance and then left to help others."
She did make a fair point. I found myself nodding slowly.
"Hey, if you don't want to go out tonight, we don't have to. You've been through a lot in the past 24 hours," concern for my well-being was suddenly on my best friend's mind.
"No, I feel like now more than ever I need a drink," I sighed.
"Whiskey sours all around," Devyn laughed.
Back at Wayne Manor, Bruce had arrived back home with Alfred not far behind home. Bruce had taken the rest of the day off to make sure that Alfred would be okay; even though he was a stubborn man, he wasn't getting any younger. Eventually, Bruce had worn down the man and he finally gave in to his Master's please of him retiring for the rest of the day in order to concentrate on getting himself better. Truthfully, Bruce would be fine on his own for one day; he'd spent seven years traversing Asia. He can manage one day doing tasks around his own home.
That being said, the imminent threat of the Joker loomed over Gotham. Bruce decided to make himself a sandwich and make a pot of coffee, and took it all with him to the study. He entered the room, carefully setting the coffee and his small lunch on the piano bench before he played those cringe-worthy, awkward chords that granted access to the Bat Cave. The one section of the bookshelf clicked open, and Bruce picked up the tray holding his food, and he stepped into the shelf, securing it behind him.
It's a short trip down to the mouth of the Bat Cave thanks to the elevator. The screeching of the near-by cave residents, who oh so fittingly, well, fit, never cease to make Bruce's skin crawl. Even though he was man out on a mission to help clean up Gotham's streets dressed as a goddamn bat himself, bats still make him jumpy. He could feel their eyes watching him, and as the blaring lights of the Cave illuminate, the bats screech and take flight to find somewhere darker and quieter.
The gentle hum of the Bat Computer and the cascading water of a waterfall toward north end of the cave are soon enough the only sounds that echo in the cavern. Bruce sat at the computer and began searching for information about Joker; if there had been any other sightings or if there are rumors of his location. But his search is in vain, and he is soon frustrated to find out that no one knows about the elusive Joker. Bruce had to resist slamming a fist into the keyboard, since he knew that since Joker had broken out of Arkham again he most likely had something up his sleeve. He always did.
Bruce had found his mind wandering to what had happened in Coventry earlier that day, though, and the woman who had helped Alfred. The woman who had been hurt by Joker. The thought angered him in a manner that surprised him; he didn't even know this woman, but here he was, angry that she had been hurt. No doubt about it, there was attraction between the two of them, even he felt that, but it wasn't that uncommon for women to be attracted to him. Many of them only for his money, though. So how did he know that she would be any different? Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and began searching her name in his accessible databases.
"Evangeline Grace Price. Daughter of Steven and Judy Price, only child. Both parents are deceased," Bruce's eyes skimmed across the information on the screens. "EMT-Paramedic for Gotham's Station 17."
"Well, that's not much information to go on," Bruce speaks aloud. But that's a good thing, means that she's got a clean background. He smirks to himself. A photo of her flashes on his screen; one pulled from the database for Gotham's first-responders.
A terrible thought suddenly occurs to him. Something that had slipped his mind; Joker was in that store today with her. But he let her go. Why? Not that he was complaining, but why did he let her go so easily? An injured ankle is nothing compared to what Joker's done to his victims in the past…
Bruce sat at the computer, his head leaning on his hand while he thought.
A gut instinct sets him on edge suddenly, and his heart screams at him that he needs to watch over Evangeline; his logical head reasons it to make sure that Joker doesn't go after her again. But deep down, Bruce feels something different about the woman who seems to be watching him from the computer screen. There's something about those dark brown, doe eyes and her honey-blonde hair that just makes him feel weak in the knees.
"How do I look?" I asked Devyn who turns around to examine me.
It took me some time to decide what to wear, but I finally decided on a pair of high-waisted jean shorts and a nice v-neck t-shirt. I accessorized only with my purse and my mother's necklace.
"You look great. I'm still jealous of those legs, though, you know."
Devyn always teased me that I have model-like legs that are a mile long. I laugh and smile at her compliment.
"You look good, too, Dev," I compliment, noting her choice in pink canvas shorts and white tank top.
"Aw, thanks," she smiled. "So, since we're both planning on drinking, let's just take a cab there."
"Probably for the best. Can't exactly have two of Gotham's first-responders driving under the influence can we?"
"No way. Not after how hard we've busted our asses to get where we are."
We link arms and promenade out to the streets of Gotham, where the evening traffic rush had officially begun. The attack from Joker today had lessened traffic, but it was still pretty bad. At least it was a beautiful June evening. The wait for our cab wasn't too long, and soon we arrived outside of Gotham's Club Soda – a moderately priced club with good, strong drinks if you get the right bartender. It's nowhere near as glamorous as some of the other clubs in Downtown, but it was always a perfect spot for the two of us to hang out and blow off some steam.
We entered the club, the bass of a song reverberating throughout the building and my body. We step over to a table and are soon greeted by a waiter.
"Hey, Evange, Devyn, what are we getting tonight?"
"The usual, please," I respond.
"House salad, no egg with ranch?"
"That's right."
"Alright, and what about you?" he turns to Dev.
"Tomato mozzarella panini, please."
"Alrighty, coming right up," he smiles. "Can I get you ladies anything to drink?"
"Double whiskey sour," we both say at the same time.
The waiter chuckles and writes the order down and walks away.
"I didn't know that was on the menu," I smile, referring to the panini.
"Oh, it's so good, you gotta try it," she gushes.
The two of us spent a nice, relaxing evening out, the threat of the Joker once again loose in Gotham City forgotten. We drank, we danced, and we chatted just like best friends and sisters not by blood would. We drank perhaps too much, but we decided to let go and not stress about it since neither of us had to work the next day.
We sat at our table sipping our whiskey sours, completely oblivious to the world for the moment.
In another portion of Gotham, the Joker sat, brooding.
"Mr. J?" a feminine voice tainted with a Brooklyn accent reached his ears.
"Harley!" he stood, stretching his arms, enveloping the red and black clad woman in his arms.
"Whatcha doin', Puddin'?"
"Planning," he simply responded.
"Ooh, planning on takin' down Batsy?"
"In time," he not-so-gently patted her head.
"So what do we do now?"
"Us – we're gonna be royalty. No one will dare stand in our way."
Harley squealed and clapped her hands in delight before running out of the room.
Joker laughed darkly to himself as he thought about how Harley Quinn came to be. She had disguised herself as an inmate at Arkham Asylum in order to understand the criminals that she had 'helped' as a psychiatrist. Even the Warden had allowed it under the pretense of telling no one else. Joker had spotted her and quickly figured out that she was Doctor Harleen Quinzel – his own psychiatrist. The Clown Prince of Crime had chosen his partner. She had quickly become infatuated with the Joker, of which he took some pride in, and then she had changed. She was no longer the Arkham Asylum psychiatrist – she was the one who would need a psychiatrist instead. When the jig was up, after the Warden war murdered, her plan had been exposed to the new Warden, but she didn't go down without one hell of a fight; no, she shot up some guards and freed the Joker along with her. But then as a token of his thanks, Joker had thrown the woman into a vat of chemicals that made her truly become and look the way she did now – the bleached skin similar to his own, her hair permanently changing colors.
The thought and the memory of the experience made Joker throw his head back and laugh crazily into the night, his cackling echoing through the empty warehouse.
The Batman was out on the prowl that very same night, looking for anything that would help him get a lead on the Joker's location. The Bat Signal was out of commission, since Gordon had destroyed it after the events of Harvey Dent and the Batman 'officially' becoming an outlaw vigilante. However, the Commissioner and Batman still had a means of communication – just one phone number that reaches Batman directly. Batman glided over the city to the building's rooftop where he would meet the Commissioner; an old building near GCPD and actually on top of the Police Department's Major Crimes Unit (MCU) building.
Commissioner Gordon stood alone for the next second on the roof of the MCU building, waiting for the Batman. He had his usual cup of coffee and he stood watching and waiting for the arrival of the Bat.
Batman easily spotted him and silently landed on the roof before just as silently walking up to the Police Commissioner.
"Commissioner," he rasped.
Gordon jumped slightly. "Damn it, you're never going to just announce that you're here, will you?"
Gordon was met with a silent gaze, a small smirk playing on the half of the Dark Knight's lips. He calmed his heart rate before diving into the situation at hand: Joker's escape.
"Joker's escape was coordinated from the inside," Gordon began. "When we went over the tapes, a woman was the one who had set him free."
He handed a file over to Batman so he could examine it. He saw a photo of the woman setting the Joker free, her back turned to the camera. The grin on Joker's face nearly sent a shiver down Batman's spine; he's once again looking for the man who had killed the once love of his life – Rachel Dawes. He did his best to keep any and all emotion out of his features as he thumbed through the file. Finally, there's a photo of the woman facing the camera as she and Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum.
"Doctor Harleen Quinzel," Batman read aloud. "I'll find her, and I'll find Joker," he declared darkly. "They won't get away, Gordon."
Gordon nodded his head. "I know you'll get them. I just don't want a repeat of the last time," he heaved a sigh, running his free hand through his hair.
"I won't let that happen," he handed the file back to Gordon, his memory absorbing every detail and sentence of the file itself.
Without saying another word, or waiting to hear Gordon's response, Batman silently turned around and threw himself off of the roof, activating the memory technology in his cape; he glided over the city, cloaked in the darkness as he began his search for Harleen Quinzel.
Devyn and I half-stumbled out of the club that night, the cool air hitting us and slightly sobering us up.
"You called our cab, right?" I slightly slurred.
"Of course – I'm a good friend, and good friends call cabs," she slurred back, slinging an arm around my shoulder.
We laughed into the night, not noticing just how empty the streets were at 1:30 in the morning.
"Well, hello, ladies," a voice purrs from a short distance away. The voice pulls our attention to the man wearing a hoodie and a pair of jeans, the hood pulled up over his head and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.
"Care to have a little fun?" he doesn't even try to hide the suggestion.
"I dun think so," I curse in my mind, hearing my words slur slightly still.
"Yeah, we're jus' headin' home," Devyn slurs but tries to look like she's serious by folding her arms in front of her.
"Oh, but two beautiful women, and just one man – we could have a whole lot of fun," he began walking toward us quickly.
"Not interested," I state, the adrenaline beginning to run through my veins and sober me up.
"Oh really?" he then grinned evilly and pulled out a knife, the light from the streetlight above glinting on the sharp-looking blade.
"Run!" I shout, turning to grab Devyn's arm.
We go to sprint down the street, but my injured ankle hampers my movement just enough for the man to grab me by the arm. I whirl back around and find myself face-to-face with the man.
"Let me go!" I shout, moving to hit him, but he grabs my wrist tightly and squeezes. I wince in response.
"You shouldn't fight it," he looks past my shoulder and look too to see Devyn running around the corner.
Please, please call the police…!
I'm thrown back to reality when I'm suddenly thrown into the alleyway. I try to scramble to my feet, but the man pushes me chest-first into the brick wall. I feel his body press into my back and his hand snakes around my waist. I whimper.
"Please, don't do this," I try to speak with conviction.
Another hand wraps itself around my throat and I feel the man's body press closer to my own, particularly his pelvis.
"Please," I whisper.
"You're going to enjoy this – too bad we don't have your friend here, too," his breath grazes my throat sending chills down my spine and I squirm in his grasp.
Unfortunately the movement only seems to arouse him even more, and his hand begins to undo my jean shorts. A few tears silently slide down my cheeks.
"Please, no," I choke out a cry, my voice louder than I thought it could be at the moment.
Suddenly the man's weight disappears from my back, the cool air making the difference striking. I whirl around and see what looks like barely a shadow standing over the man, now unconscious. Batman.
The Caped Crusader had saved me. I wanted to move to him to thank him, but my legs suddenly gave out on me and I fell to the cold, hard concrete ground. The sound didn't go unnoticed by my rescuer, as he then turned around to face me and quickly strode over to me.
"Are you alright?" his deep, raspy voice asked me.
I could only breathlessly nod, my mind still comprehending it all. I look over to the man.
"He was… he tried to… I was gonna…" I stammer, tears brimming in my eyes.
"It's okay. You're okay," his eyes gazed at me, looking me over. His dark eyes met my own.
"I… I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up," I grimace.
I'm met with a small half-smile as I absent-mindedly rub my arm where he had grabbed me so hard.
His eyes look to my arm, and he gently pulls my hand away to examine my arm. But before he can say anything more to me, the sound of a police car's sirens approach.
"You should go," I turn back to him, the sound pulling my gaze from him. But when I turned back around, I didn't expect him to leave as silently and quickly as he did. I only caught a fleeting glance of the Dark Knight's cape just tapering off of the building that I'm sitting against for support.
"Thank you," I whispered to the air around me.