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Chapter 3: And So It Begins

A/N: Heres another revamped chapterr :] Enjoy

(Beta-read by Incarnate009)

"Hello, Beautiful."

Although the words were frightening and insulting, since they were coming from a mass-murderer, I couldn't do anything but stare at the man in front of me.

The Joker.

What does he want? Why is he here? How the hell did he get in here? Doesn't Bruce have some kind of freakin' security?!

My mind was swimming with questions, and I couldn't bring myself to verbalize any of them.

He cocked his head to the side, keeping those empty eyes focused on me. Finally, after a few minutes, he turned and began pacing among the horrified crowd as several goons with guns and knives ran through the heavy doors.

"If I'd known there was a party, I would've shown up sooner. So... is everyone enjoying themselves? Hm?"

Seeing how the everyone in the room was deathly silent, it looked like these people had working brains, after all. Unfortunately for me, my belief that these stuck-up rich folks were power-hungry idiots was shot straight to Hell.

"Anyone?" He laughed, and I knew that everyone, except Bruce, was probably on the verge of passing out. "You're kidding!! You can't all think Brucie's parties are really that bad." Dark eyes swept the room once again, and he sighed with feigned disappointment. "Well then... does this mean you're all ready to play... my game?"

The unmistakable click of a knife shattered the silence as he walked through the crowd, fiddling with the weapon as if it were some kind of toy. Despite the fact that they were face to face with a serial killer, nobody bothered to move. The fact of the matter is that they were terrified. It was there in their eyes, and this lunatic was clearly enjoying the control he had over them.

Setting aside my fear for a moment, I couldn't help but realize that there was something strangely fascinating about this man. And something inside my head made me want to know what it was.

When he had finally made a full-circle around the room, he stopped in front of a goon with a clown mask. The Joker simply made eye-contact with him, and the man made his way to the elevator with his gun ready. A clear sign that he'd shoot any idiot foolish enough to try and escape.

Hell, I thought. Why don't you just kill us now, you mass-murdering, psychotic bastard?

I glanced slowly around the room and saw that every one of the Joker's goons held some kind of machine gun. In fear, I looked behind me to where Bruce had been standing, but he was nowhere to be found. For a moment, I thought that he'd been grabbed during the chaos, but that thought was short-lived.

Batman would be here soon.

Although it was clearly stupid, I made up my mind to look for a way out. But my thought process was stopped when one of the Joker's goons pushed me towards the center of the room. Towards him.

At the moment, I knew that I had been singled out to be the "hostage." Even when I played games as a child, the idea of being the "damsel in distress" had never appealed to me. And those feelings sure as hell hadn't changed. As the goon touched my shoulder, I easily took hold of his arm, twisted it, and gave him a good elbow in the face.

He tried to pull away, but I held on to his arm, and flipped him over my shoulder towards the Joker.

After that, everything else became a blur.

A second goon came at me, and I gave him a good roundhouse kick in the face, only to lose my balance and fall to the floor with him. Sadly, I wasn't used to fighting in heels, so I hurriedly tore them from my feet, prepared to fight.

It seemed that there had only been four goons that weren't threatening the crowd or guarding doors and windows. I figured that taking out the remaining goons would be easy, seeing how I had dropped two of the muscle-bound idiots without breaking a sweat.

The third grabbed my arms from behind and tried pushing me back to the floor, but his grip wasn't very strong at all. Silently thanking my past self-defense classes, I managed to free my right arm, elbowing him in the stomach before putting him down with a fierce blow to the side of his head.

Having seen me take out his buddies, the last guy circled me cautiously, waiting for an opening. With a silent snicker, I feigned injury, watching as he came at me like a wild boar. At that point I couldn't help but laugh, as he swung. I caught his fist, grabbed his arm and pulled it behind his back before throwing his head into my knee.

As he hit the floor with a groan, I stood there with a smirk and stared at the unconscious idiots on the floor. "Wow," I said with sarcasm. "What a rush! I thought I was done for!!"

The words had barely escaped my lips when I heard a chuckle from behind me. I turned to see the Joker standing about a foot away. He closed the gap quickly and caught my wrists as I tried desperately to fight him off. Once again, I realized that I had made a very grave mistake in assuming that, because of his appearance, I could take him down.

"You're a wild one aren't ya, Beautiful? I like that," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Unable to find a smart-ass comeback, I had to settle for glaring at him with every ounce of hatred I had.

After a few short minutes, I ended my futile intimidation tactic, and found my voice. "Okay, first of all: it's unbelievably rude to handle a woman, and second: what the hell are you doing here?!"

I still don't know why, but my demands seemed to come across to him as some sickening joke, since he just laughed at me and took a step back with my wrists still in his hand.

"Are you serious? You really don't get it, do you? This is what I do. For me, this--" he turned me around to look at the horrified guests "--is what I call 'fun'." He started laughing again, and it seemed as though it was crazier than before. If that was even possible.

I was horrified, but, at the same time, I wanted to laugh with him. I wanted to smile because it just sounded so damn funny.

When he finally composed himself, he looked at me and held the knife to my cheek, pressing down ever so slightly. "You're new to Gotham aren't ya, Beautiful? So what is someone like you doing at one of Bruce Wayne's little gatherings? Hm?" He stared at me, waiting for an answer. But, even against my better judgement, I remained silent, afraid that I would lose control if I didn't.

Before I knew what had happened, he was right up in my face, demanding that I give him an answer.

"I-I'm an old friend," I said, hating myself for stammering.

He just grinned and pressed the blade deeper into my cheek, still not drawing blood. "Well, isn't that convenient?" he chuckled, releasing me and walking back towards the center of the room.

I stared at him with my mouth wide open in shock. He just... let me go?

The Joker stared at the unconscious goons henchmen, and I could almost see the gears working in his head. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled a revolver from his pocket and shot one right in the head. Bruce's guests backed away and screamed. They clearly weren't used to watching people die.

But unlike everyone else, I just stood there staring, not at the dead man, but lunatic with the gun.

Three more bullets were discharged, only to be followed by more screaming. I heard the click as another bullet was pushed into the round, and I couldn't understand why he'd need a fourth bullet. It was then that the fifth goon ran in, clearly unaware that the Joker was killing his men left and right.

"Hey, Boss! We've got a pro--" the man didn't even finish speaking before the Joker shot him down... and, for some reason, looked up. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on me again.

"Well, I have to say I'm shocked. I really expected the Batman to show up, but--" he paused, loading the round again and pointing the gun at me "--it looks like he just doesn't care!"

There was the sound of gunfire as Batman swung through the window, kicking the Joker and knocking me to the ground before the bullet made contact.

The Joker scrambled to his feet and laughed. "Now there's a Batman."

Within seconds, the two were practically at each other's throats battling it out, and I couldn't even tell who, if anyone, was winning. I was sure that Bruce was kicking some serious ass until the Joker side-stepped him and shot the glass from one of the windows. I could hear sirens coming from outside, and I was sure he would be caught by the police, if not by Batman.

Bruce was on the ground struggling to get up when the Joker spoke. "Aww, don't worry about it too much, Batsy. My little game is far from over." Pointing the gun at Bruce, he turned back to me. "And as for you, princess... Don't get too stressed out if you don't see me for a while... After all, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other much sooner than you think."

With that said, he leapt out the window just as the elevator opened for the cops to charge into the room with five dead men on the floor. I looked to see if Bruce was okay, but he had already gone.

As the police questioned several people, I decided to inspect the pockets of the dead men. Of all of them, only one had a wallet. I looked inside and found just what I was looking for: his license, on which the name "Roger Grant" was printed. I glanced at the birthdate as well: twenty-eight.

Twenty-eight and dead as a door nail.

For some reason, I felt that I should have been crying, but there were no tears. Oddly enough, it wasn't sad at all as far as I was concerned. It was just the natural order of things. People live for a time, people die.

As I sat there, I could hear the sobs of people who had been genuinely afraid. The only thing I could do was stare blankly at the bodies of the men who had lost their lives. It wasn't because I was sad, or because I felt that they had deserved to die, but because it was the only thing that kept me from thinking about what I knew would be coming to "liberate" me from this life.

And what I, to an extent, wanted to liberate me: The Joker.

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