It was nearing ten pm by the time Melvin White walked up to his apartment building in the Narrows. The smell of garbage and rot permeated the air, but Melvin didn't notice, he was used to it by now. He'd been living in this same apartment for a little over eight years, ever since his last boss used the apartment he'd rented before to hold a few hostages. He couldn't return after that obviously, but he didn't care. Rent in the Narrows was cheaper anyways.

His new boss didn't pay much, but you had to get work where you could get it these days. Luckily Melvin had a little more experience than the homeless teenagers and crack heads who wound up in the underground following the rumors of paid work. Granted that experience was with handling weapons, and assaulting people, but it just so happened that was a useful skill to the masked mercenary.

Either way, even considering all he'd done over the course of his life, the time he's spent working for Bane has been the most nerve-wracking thus far. Bane kept a very large and devoted group of men close to him. Very few of the Gothamites he'd hired graduated from drilling into concrete and shoveling dirt, and even the few who were used for other tasks were always kept under the close eye of some of those fanatically devoted mercs that kept Bane company. Melvin saw men shot like pigs for being a little too talkative on more than one occasion.

There may be moments in Melvin's life when things don't seem to make sense. When he'd see something that may not be real, or hear voices that others don't, but at least he knew how to keep his head down, and his mouth shut. And it helped him get through his most recent job. He even managed to make a few unsteady friendships along the way with some of the mercenaries he'd worked with. Though they would never tell him anything integral to their boss' plans, he did get more information than most of the peons working down there did.

Today, however, marked the last day of work for those toiling in the sewers. The job had been winding down for the last two days, and most of the people who had finished their tasks had already been told to leave and not return. Today the last of them, even the men like Melvin who had been helping to patrol the tunnels, were dismissed without any ceremony or ado. Several mercenaries had stood at the exits while they departed, dispensing a wad of bills to each of them with one hand, while training guns at the newly unemployed workers with the other. The message was clear: Get out, and keep your mouths shut. The man who handed Melvin his pay had worked with him on several occasions. He'd smirked as Melvin passed and muttered conspiratorially for him to 'tune in for the football game tomorrow'. There was no way he'd be missing that game now.

White finally reached the level his apartment was on, and turned down the hall. He stopped in front of his door, and stared down at the knob, confusion flitted across his face. His door was slightly ajar, the flimsy excuse for a lock showing signs of being forced. Melvin wondered for a moment if he should go inside. What if the thief was still in there? Robbery was certainly more prevalent then rats in the Narrows, and there were a lot of rats in this neighborhood. But Melvin was sure there was nothing of any value in the apartment, maybe with the exception of what was hidden under the floorboards of his living room, but even Melvin didn't know for sure what that was.

He took the plunge and pushed the door open all the way, stepping into the narrow, dingy hallway beyond. He could see the light on in his living room just around the corner, and cautiously walked into the room. The space was mostly bare, except for one ratty sofa, and an old T.V. sitting on a couple of cinderblocks. However much of the room was still cluttered anyways with laundry, empty pizza boxes, and dirty dishes, some still containing rotting and moldy food. The room was dimly lit by a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the only window in the apartment was boarded up due to the glass being broken, and the landlord being too cheap to fix it.

Melvin didn't pay any attention to the state of his home, however, that he was already well aware of. What had his full attention was first the number of floorboards that had been removed from their customary place and piled haphazardly across the room, and second the form that occupied his couch, examining himself in an old cracked hand mirror, while dabbing the last touches of grease paint on his face with his fingers. The Joker looked up from the mirror and smirked at him.

"Marvin old buddy. Come on in and make yourself at home."

Melvin didn't correct his old boss when he called him the wrong name. He didn't even mention how absurd it was that he was just invited to make himself comfortable in his own home. He did however manage to look slightly less than dumbfounded, and muttered somewhat hysterically under his breath.

"I knew it…under there all along…"

Only a few days before the Joker had finally been stopped by Batman, and dragged away to Arkham, he had visited the new apartment of his henchman, and deposited a large black duffle bag into an opening he'd created in the floorboards. He then explained to Melvin that he was never to open, touch, or otherwise even think about the bag under his floor. The first two rules were easy to follow, as the clown scared the shit out of the ex-Arkham patient. However, the last, was a little harder, especially after the Joker was captured. As the months, and soon the years, passed, Melvin began to imagine the item under his floor as being a part of his old boss, and soon began to imagine that it was the Joker, curled up snugly under the hardwood floor, biding his time until the day he would finally burst forth in violent surprise.

Melvin had even gotten into the habit of talking to his floor, filling the Joker in on the daily news, or whatever was going on in his life at the time. So now that Melvin stood staring at the Joker in the flesh, same garishly colored outfit, and the old black duffle bag empty at his feet, the idea didn't seem quite so farfetched.

"Say again?" The Joker cocked his head at Melvin, as if to hear him better from one ear.

"Under the floor-you were hiding there all along. I knew you were, it was brilliant. They'd never found you…" Melvin rambled.

Joker cocked one brow and smirked at White as if, of the two men in the room, the one not wearing makeup was the crazy one. "Of course I was Marv," he said cheerily, suddenly flinging the hand mirror behind him, where it crashed on the floor somewhere behind the sofa. "By the way, you really should sweep under there more, lots of dust bunnies and little people living down there with me." He chuckled mockingly before continuing. "So, what's been going on around Gotham while I slumbered? I want all the juicy gossip."

"Well, uh, I've told you about everything that's happened since your capture already," Melvin mumbled. Observing the confused expression on the clown and recognizing it as one step away from annoyance, he tried to clarify. "I mean, whenever I came home, I told you about what was going on in the news and all," he explained rationally.

"Let's just say, for the fun of it, that you haven't, and fill me in again hmm? Humor me." The Joker began pulling knives out of the black duffle bag at his feet while he waited, laying them on the couch one at a time like he was inventorying them.

Melvin fidgeted nervously, not quite sure where to begin. "Well, a lot's gone on in eight years," he said lamely. "Uh, I think whatever Bane has been planning will go down soon…"

One black kohl circle expanded as the Joker raised his brow in curiosity. "Who?"

Right, start at the beginning. Melvin finally found a trail of thought to follow, and haltingly sputtered out everything he knew about Bane, starting with when he'd first got word of someone hiring people in the sewers, and finishing with how his last day of work ended. It was a short story, as there was really not a lot more he knew about the masked man now, than the first day he'd wound up in the underground.

"So this Bane fella is the one who brought Batman out of his little guano-covered hiding place," Joker said after a short silence in contemplation. "Can't see why, the man seems as vanilla as they come. But hey, maybe he'll keep the Bat occupied for a little while until I can grab the spotlight again."

Melvin smiled suddenly, remembering one more thing he hadn't told his old boss yet. "I don't think Batman will be a problem actually," he said with thinly veiled excitement. He paused a moment for suspense, but the only reaction he received from the Joker was his unnervingly intense gaze as he waited for him to continue.

"Uh, Bane killed the Bat," Melvin blurted out, hoping the good news would shift that penetrating black gaze from his person. After the revelation he grinned wide, and nodded franticly, sure the Joker would be pleased by the news.

"What?"

The question was deadpan, and the only smile on the man's face came from the red painted, puckered scars on his cheeks. If it were possible, Joker's already black eyes seemed to get darker as they narrowed, the whites of his eyes disappearing, leaving the only light from the pits the inhuman glint of rage. This was not the reaction Melvin had expected.

"Uh, it was, um, it was a rumor really," he stuttered helplessly. "But the guy that told me, he was one of the men who worked for Bane, he said he saw the whole fight. Of course, the only people who would know for sure are Bane and his men, but the word got out the next morning. They all said he did it. Bane killed the Batman with his own hands. Broke him in two!"

The Joker continued staring at Melvin, his tongue the only thing moving as it darted in and out of his mouth, and pushed at the scars on his cheeks from the inside. He sucked loudly on his yellow teeth, and smacked his lips. "When?"

Melvin was wringing his hands franticly. Why wasn't the boss excited? Batman was the one who'd stopped him eight years ago, not to mention the guy Joker was trying to kill in the first place. "A-about two days ago."

"Let me get this straight. This rank amateur waltzes into my town, has a little fun motocrossing through the city, and then just kills the Batman?" His face was nearly blank, however Melvin could sense the subtly hidden rage bubbling beneath the surface.

"Uh, I guess…" Melvin felt like he'd somehow fallen into a 'shoot the messenger' type of situation. He wished there was some way he could redirect the Joker's anger from himself, but he knew that was impossible. There was very little Melvin had learned about the Joker after having worked for the man, but one of those things he had noticed was that the Joker was amazingly good at reading people, and he would see through any half-assed diversion Melvin could come up with in a heartbeat. The man's mind was like an Escher print. Chaotic and random at first glance, but infinitely detailed once you got a closer glimpse.

Luckily for Melvin however, the Joker's wrath already seemed to be focusing on Bane. "You said whatever he's planning is going down tomorrow?"

Melvin knew something was going to happen tomorrow at the Rogues Stadium, though whether it was a major part of Banes plans or not, he had no idea, but he nodded in assertion anyways.

"Well, it's a good thing you're unemployed now isn't it? Because I might just have work for you Marv. Maybe we'll just throw a wrench into this little, uh, game he has planned."

Melvin looked unsure. "I dunno boss, have you seen this guy? He's built like a tank, and he's smart too. Not to mention Bane's got a couple hundred guys ready and willing to jump in front of a bullet for him."

"Marvin, Marvin, Marvin. There's more than one way to skin a prostitute, or was that to gut a cat?" He looked pensively into space for a moment, as if actually trying to remember the idiom, then stood up suddenly causing Melvin to flinch, and started stashing his knives in various pockets on his person. "Either way, I'll need some insurance before I go toe to toe with the guy. Something important enough to him to make a good shield, preferably a meat shield. Any of his soldiers seem very special?"

Melvin shook his head slowly. "His men will die for him, but I don't think Bane feels the same way about them." He felt very insecure about all this, and about working for the Joker again. Melvin ran with the clown before, and it had been the most disorienting experience of his life. Before then he had been wandering the streets for nearly a year, having escaped Arkham following the terrifying events in the Narrows. So at that time, working for a murderous man painted up like a circus act was the most logical course for his life.

Melvin would like to believe he'd made some progress over the years though. That he felt a little saner these days. Then again, that just might be a pile of clothes in the corner, or a man melting into the floorboards. It was hard to tell right now…

"Well come on Marv, you gotta help me out here a little bit. Give me something to work with."

Melvin snapped his attention back to his boss, and racked his memory. If Bane had anything important in his life he certainly wouldn't have shared it with the group of degenerates and tramps who did the grunt work for him. Then memory came to the rescue, and Melvin recalled the meeting Bane had several days ago.

"Wait! There might be something, uh, there were these two women he'd met with." The Joker watched him intently as he mulled over that night. "They were both kind of, Middle Eastern looking. One of them I never got the name of, but the other one, was younger, and her name was Nyssa Rat-something or other. Raatko! That's right, one of the guys said she was his student or something like that. I couldn't get a peep out of him about the other chick, and I wasn't about to get my brains blown out for being too nosey, so I dropped the whole subject right after that."

Melvin quit rambling and looked up expectantly at his grinning boss.

"That just might do the trick," he finally responded with a wink. "So, did you happen to know just how easy it is to break into the DMV Marv ol' pal?"

Melvin sighed inwardly, and slowly shook his head in defeat. Apparently he had a new job, whether he wanted it or not. Hopefully this time around the boss wouldn't torch his pay.

-0-

Nyssa reclined comfortably on the battered but sturdy old sofa in her apartment, reading one of her favorite books. Her home was minimally decorated, most of the furniture showing the aged appearance of having been acquired from antique shops, and thrift stores. Her walls were barely visible behind a multitude of bookshelves, each filled with books, and only a few knickknacks here and there for decoration. The small townhouse-style building was quaint, and located about fifteen minutes from Gotham University. Quite a few students rented from apartments in this area, though Nyssa never went out of her way to get to know any of them.

At the moment her apartment showed signs of her having done some packing. However, it looked more like she had packed for a weekend excursion then a permanent rehoming. A couple of bookshelves showed gaps where they had once been full, evidence of Nyssa having removed those books she couldn't leave without. Besides the box of books that were packed away in the trunk of a rental car out front, and the two large pieces of luggage waiting at the door however, the rest of the apartment looked relatively untouched.

Nyssa knew there wouldn't be room on the jet for much luggage, and she also knew she was going to have to get out quickly when the call came, something she wouldn't be able to do bogged down with about a hundred pounds of books. Still, if she could, she would have taken all of them with her. As it was she decided to take only the books that would be difficult, or impossible to replace. All the others she would have to buy again. It was hard to believe she had managed to acquire so many books in the five years she'd lived in Gotham.

She turned the page in the book she read, eyes skimming the words while her mind wandered. She knew the book by heart, and this would be the fifth time she'd read it, but Nyssa found that just holding her old, dog-eared copy of 'To Kill a Mockingbird' made her feel a little less fretful as she waited for Talia's call.

This was the first book she had ever read in English. Bane had found the copy somewhere and given it to her to help her pick up the language. She remembered how proud of herself she had been when she finally finished the book, and then turned back to page one, reading it all over again in celebration of having mastered the difficult tongue. Now she spoke English, French, Greek, and Latin, as well as Arabic, her first language.

Nyssa happily caressed a page of the book as her mind wandered even further afield.

Shortly after Nyssa's rescue by the young woman, whose name Nyssa had learned was Talia, they arrived at a neighboring village. In her distressed state she could barely make out the words that Talia whispered to her as she set her down in front of one of the elders of the village, something about Nyssa staying here.

As terrified as Nyssa was of the behemoth of a man that shadowed Nyssa's rescuer, she knew she also did not want to be parted from the woman either. As Talia moved to let go of Nyssa's hand and stand up, Nyssa had thrown herself back into the black clad arms of Talia al Ghul. She sobbed and begged her not to leave her, the addled seven-year-old worried about what would happen to her if the woman with the soft sweet words left, while simultaneously worried what would happen if she stayed.

Talia had looked helplessly up at the masked man she had called Bane, who gave her no advice. Nyssa had not learned to read Bane's expressions behind his mask yet, as she tried to look at the man as little as possible, but thinking back to that day she knew the expression he had given Talia that night was one of mild amusement, as if he was waiting to see what Talia would choose to do.

And Talia had chosen to bring Nyssa back with her.

The monastery in the Himalayans was only one of the many bases for the League of shadows, but it was also the one R'as al Ghul favored most. It had been there Talia had returned with the out of place little girl in tow, and there that Nyssa had spent most of her younger years with the League, and Talia and Bane.

R'as had been opposed to Talia's decision at first, telling her to take little Nyssa back. The League was no place for children he had said. But Talia had been persuasive, and in the end, Nyssa was put in the young woman's care.

As the weeks passed Nyssa grew more comfortable in her new home, and with her new family. She spent more time watching Talia and Bane, and their interactions, and something about the way Bane spoke with Talia, looked at her, and reacted to her, had softened Nyssa's heart to the intimidating man. Nyssa soon began to realize, even at her young age, that Bane was deeply devoted to her new sister, and as that realization took place, her fear of him went away.

One night, as Bane sat quietly reading, Nyssa approached him, and speaking to him for the first time, timidly asked him if he would read to her.

The sudden buzzing of Nyssa's cell phone made her jump. She carefully marked her place in her book, and picked up the small silver square. There was only one contact she kept in her phone, so she knew without looking at the screen that is was Talia. She hit the receive button quickly, answering with a curt greeting.

"It's time." Talia's voice was quick and to the point. "The pilot will be expecting you at 12:30, which gives you almost an hour to get to the private airstrip. You must leave now however, we begin in the morning."

Nyssa's heartbeat fluttered as she stood, slipping her book into one of her suitcases, and turning to check the room to be sure nothing important would be forgotten, she pressed the phone against her ear almost painfully. This would be the last time she'd ever hear Talia's voice again.

"Talia," she almost choked out her sister's name, and the words she had carefully crafted in her mind evaporated, but Talia finished for her.

"I love you Nyssa, you will live to make me proud, I know it." Her voice was soft again, like it was when she had spoken soothingly to a terrified little girl eighteen years ago.

"I love you too Talia." Nyssa whispered back to the cold plastic in her hands.

The line clicked, and Nyssa numbly slipped the phone into her pocket. Only then did the sentiments that fled her mind earlier return. Nyssa whisked away an escaped tear in frustration as she went to the door, and gathered her luggage quickly. She slid back the deadbolt and wrenched the knob, letting the door swing wide open so she could pull her bags through with her.

However she was stopped dead in her tracks before she could even cross the threshold. A dark figure filled her doorway, fisted hand raised as if to knock on the door that had just been pulled open. A face that could only originate from nightmares grinned down at her, eyes black pits like the empty sockets of a skull. The red slash across the mouth, and the greasy moss colored hair the only things ruining the skeletal appearance.

Nyssa recognized the visage of the Joker from newspaper articles she had glanced at but never paid any attention too. Why should she care, the man was news of a different time and world to her. Now she stood in absolute disbelief that such a person would ever darken her doorstep, staring up blankly at him in a state of shock. Why was he here? What possible reason could there be?

The purple gloved fist turned to knock on the molding of Nyssa's doorway instead.

"Knock. Knock."

He accentuated each spoken knock with a rap at the door frame, putting dark emphasis on the k's.

With that Nyssa's brain finally kicked into gear, she dropped her luggage, and slipped her hand into her pocket, removing her pocket knife with a speed that surprised her. The blade flipped out and streaked up to meet the enemy in a graceful arch that would have made any of her instructors proud had she ever managed to execute such a move during her myriad training sessions.

However the terrifying clown in her doorway managed to jump back in time to miss the knife's edge, throwing out a leg simultaneously, kneeing Nyssa in the gut. A hand clamped down on her wrist, twisting it painfully. She clenched onto the handle of her knife stubbornly, knowing she couldn't loose her only weapon, but another sharp twist made her fingers loosen, and the blade clattered to the ground.

"That's not how the joke goes. You're supposed to answer 'whose there?'" He called out in a sing-song voice, his hand still gripping her wrist painfully.

Nyssa responded by sending a fist into the man's solar plexus, causing him to double over with a sharp exhale, and release her wrist. The joker giggled unnervingly, and before she could turn to run, had thrown himself at her, bringing them both down to the hard floor with a crash.

"Well if you're not going to play along I guess I'll just have to cut straight to the punch line," he said as Nyssa struggled to free herself from the weight pinning her down. A damp, sweet-smelling cloth was shoved roughly into her face, and Nyssa instinctively held her breath. Her rebellion didn't last long however, as a fist to the stomach soon had her gasping for air.

The more she struggled to get out from under the soaked rag, the deeper her breathing became, and her vision started to become fuzzy. Her kicking and fighting began to grown weaker, until finally her limbs fell heavily to the floor in defeat. The unnerving feeling of falling into a black abyss overtook her, and soon after that, unconsciousness.

AN: Thanks for keeping up with me you few who are following, and sorry for the wait, this chapter turned out longer then I had originally planned.

I have this paranoid feeling that the views on this fic will plummet after I'd said it won't be a romance, but I guess I'll find out lol.

Note about the random-ass title of this chapter: I didn't know what to call this one, and a friend mentioned how the ending reminded her of taken, and we both enjoyed a nice mental scene of Bane giving Joker the 'I don't know who you are,' speech over the phone. To which I figured Joker would still answer with 'Good luck' simply because he's a troll. That's all .

Crow T R0bot: I completely agree! I was hoping for a hint at least of what the Jokers fate had been in the movie, and was also disappointed. Fortunately the book gave a teensy clue in the form of one line: "The worst of the worst were sent here (Blackgate), except for the Joker, who, rumor had it, was locked away as Arkham's sole remaining inmate."

So that's where I started with this fic. Also fortunately there is that nice little time gap in the movie between when Bane took the City and Batman comes back that you don't see much happening, so that is where this fic is being inserted.

I will not be altering the plot/outcome of the movie, but that's all the info I'll be giving away for now, the rest will be revealed as the story progresses. ;)

And thanks for the review 3