He couldn't be here.

The Joker was the only person that was supposed to be locked in Arkham Asylum, and last she checked, nobody could crack the security on the mental prison.

That didn't necessarily mean she wasn't excited about meeting him. Not that she'd ever admit it.

She raised a hand and waggled her fingers, "Hello."

"Well, you're not nearly as grim as I thought." He remarked, seeming disappointed, "We haven't met but I would like to introduce myself," He held out his but let out an exaggerated whistle when she didn't take it, "Almost as stingy as dear Batsy, though." He mumbled, pushing his bottom lip into his top.

Ignoring him, she looked around, "I'm going to ask the obvious: Where are the hostages?"

He blew through a hole he formed with his lips, "That's the thing. There are none."

"What about the woman outside?"

"Paid."

"Are you going to tell me why you blew up the building?"

"Why does it feel like we're catching up over coffee?" He paused and glanced at the floor, "And why am I not bleeding yet?"

Beneath her mask she arched a brow, "You didn't answer my question."

"What's the point?" He exclaimed, "You're still going to take me away to the humble building where I have made my home amongst the delusional and psychopathic." His head dropped in mock defeat.

"You want to get caught?" She asked, uncertainty tainting her voice.

"Yes, my moral compass has been tainted by this atrocious act. Take me away, oh, take me away." The last part was drawn out, maliciously morphing from magnified desperation to something slower and more sardonic.

"I'm not bringing you back to Arkham, am I?"

"'Afraid not. Well," he spread his hands, "not unless your little 'Bat' wants to not get killed."

Her eyes widened and she lunged for him, grabbing the front of his burnt shirt and pulling him towards her and standing nose to nose , "Explain."

"Wasting time wastes opportunity." The smirk beneath the cracking make-up cakes on his face infuriated her, "It's me, or him. Oh my, this feels like déjà vu. Of course, I wasn't one of the options."

Her laugh was empty, "He can take care of himself."

"Are you completely sure about that?" The question dripped with bogus care.

It was then that she realised the extent of Blake's injury. He could barely walk let alone fight off whatever the Joker had planned. No, surely the car was secure enough to not let anyone in.

"See," he continued, "the thing is is that what's going to happen to him cannot be stopped by himself. And to be honest, you're the only one that knows he's where he is."

She grabbed a fistful of his greasy hair and pulled him to the ground, the hand clamped on his shirt pressing into his throat, "What did you do?"

"I understand how strange this may sound but I didn't do anything to him."

"You're lying."

"I may be a diagnosed psychopath but it hurts when you say such words."

Time was running out, "Then who?" She snarled. From far off the sound of rotating helicopter propellers could be heard, perhaps a news one. Nelya wasn't so sure.

"Now, was I supposed to tell who..." He trailed off into thought.

She considered his words for a moment, "Hired. Someone hired you too."

"The truth dawns!" He cackled, "Believe me I would have lived to have had a first crack at Bat.2 but to do that I had get out of the loony bin first. My short-lived 'employers' had just what I needed too. Had to do this first, but at least I met you." He glanced up, "And there's my ride."

She hadn't even noticed that the helicopter was heading straight towards them, the noise and wind increasing. Nelya looked back down at the Joker, completely at a loss of what to do.

"Tick tock, tick tock! You have seven minutes left to sav him or, you can take me in. Which will it be?"

She pushed her fist down farther, "You forgot one more thing."

"Pray, tell."

Inching closer, she whispered, "The difference between the Batman and I is that I am a killer and I don't care whether you die or not." She yanked him up with her and used him as a shield against what she assumed were armed gunmen in the helicopter, shuffling towards the door, keeping a firm hand on his neck.

Clumsily, they made their way down the steps, her making sure that it was the Joker that faced every window they passed.

"We have something in common."

"No, we don't." She heard the helicopter circling the building, trying to find a good place to land.

"I think you'll find we do. In a particularly 'killer' way." He sniggered.

"You kill because you want to, I've killed because I had to. They got to the bottom and she shoved him through the open door. When he took a breath to give answer, Nelya hit him over the back of the head, knocking him out.

Dragging him into the shadows, she left him beneath a dust in before sneaking to where the car was parked, "Quite a disappointing meeting, Joker, quite disappointing."

She stopped in her tracks. She was right, it was too disappointing. And like many things that were easy, something ugly was always round the corner. Lo and behold, when she glanced back at where she left the Joker, nobody was there.

Tampering down her rising panic, she calculated that she had four minutes left, whatever that meant. The car was just ahead of her, soon reaching it and touching the sleek panel to open it. As it slid open, the image of Blake simply got worse and worse.

He lay paralysed, his head lolling back and face clammy. The veins of his temple stood out deep purple, his wrists and neck were to the same effect too. Nelya dropped to her knees and immediately inspected his gunshot bruising. Sure enough, a small hole, the width of the the tip of a needle, was burrowed into his flesh, the purple wound becoming darker with the small rivulets of blood dripping from it. Clenching her jaw, she touched it lightly and felt something hard under the skin.

Clearly impossible to remove at such a precarious time and place, Nelya slumped on her calves, defeated. She could have stopped it, but she didn't. It happened again. She was too late. And why like this, she asked herself, why?

"It isn't too late."