It was a chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

Wide-eyed, Nelya watched him pull back fractionally, keeping a steady gaze on each other. A mixture of uncertainty and surprise was evident on her face and Blake began to regret his spurred decision. He opened his mouth to apologise but it was his turn to get cut off. She tenderly brushed her lips against his own, and, lingering there, she pressed more firmly against him, the hand resting on his chest tightening its grip on his shirt.

They didn't progress to anything more, instead, they both moved away from each other again slightly and blushed. It seemed neither wanted to meat the other's eyes, not completely confident with what they would show.

The computer beeped and they glanced at it. An office block was being kept hostage at gunpoint, those reponsible and the amount of hostages were unknown.

Silence ensued as Nelya went to suit up, taking this evening's problem into her own hands. Blake held back, unsure of what to do after the moment they had just shared, absentmindedly scrolling through the police report that had come up.

"I'm coming with you." He finally said.

"You can barely walk." She mumbled, busying herself with tying her boots on.

"I'll stay in the car as lookout."

Before she put on her mask Blake saw the corner of her mouth kick up, "Fine."

The smaller, sleeker 'Batmobile', as Nelya liked to call it, was parked a couple of metres away from the office block, its headlights turned down. All thoughts of their personal lives were put on hold for the moment. Blake sat in the passenger's seat, pouring over the police reports again. The only news was that one hostage was sent out tied up, a bag over her head with a red face resembling a cat painted over it. A note on red paper had been stapled to her shirt with the same clumsy cat drawing and a message in cursive writing: 'Why so serious?'

Running to the back of the building, she checked behind the barbed wired fence before jumping over it, propelling herself through the courtyard to take cover in the shadows. By now she had realised how desperate the situation was but tried to not let it get to her. Spying a door a couple of meters away, she crept up to it and jiggled the handle.

It opened.

Too easy.

It was far too easy.

And for my final trick...

I'm going to make you all...

Disappear...

One...

'Click'

Two...

'Click'

Three.

Bye bye

:)

Only seconds passed before she leapt away from the building, looking up just in time to see the top floor burst into flames, large blocks of broken concrete raining down.

Watching the debris fall from the fire above and equally hot inferno boiled inside her, spurring her to the door hanging open and up the flight of stairs. It was dark save for the faint red glow outside the windows but what was the most disturbing of all of this was the silence. She couldn't hear anything; there were no shouts, no cries, nothing. She dearly hoped the hostages were just unconscious. When she reached the top floor, there was only one person stranding amidst the rubble.

The figure was facing away from her in a burnt, purple coat, the sides covered in scorch marks. They had straggly white hair, greenish in hue, their head bent down.

"My, my." They said, the ominously cheery sound was coupled with a deeper, grating noise, "You weren't who I was waiting to see."

They turned around, "No matter, we'll have a party anyway!" A wide, bloody grin stretched their face and a series of cackles was let loose.

The Joker.