Greetings! The reason being that I am days late with this is that I have not been feeling well and have been busy. I gave blood on Sunday, so now I have a bruised arm. That's my excuse. I'm helping injured people guys….just helping out some patients….don't burn me at the stake.

On the plus side, I did get to see the NA tour of Spamalot going on at the moment. I met some of the cast too, and they're lovely. That was my cheering up part of the weekend.

Reviews make me happy and work my booty off. It's almost at the close guys!

Gunshots whistled through the air. Josephine leapt out of bed instantly, motivated by the crashing waves of warfare surrounded her oasis in the outskirts. It was as she feared. The cheat didn't give her a chance. He wasn't going to wait. Jack would have the last laugh. It was up to her to make it that that didn't happen.

Luckily as she crossed the stairway, Firetongue, Dr. Crane, and the henchmen were already awake and dressed. The two lesser men stood ready with their weapons strapped to themselves.

"I'm ready to go. Anytime, man, anytime."

"You're going to have to wait while we all get ready. We don't know how many are out there." Josephine hurried all around trying to find anything that resembled a weapon. Her knife was strapped to her side as always.

Guns were needed. Guns were always needed. Most likely, the henchmen would be taking care of that, but she would need about two to fight off any of the Italians that probably showed up with her sickly rival. The professor might need one as well.

"Professor, the toxin?"

"Already, getting it," he spoke as he hurried down to the basement. He returned quickly with the canisters. "There are three completely full. That should be enough to take most out to make an escape."

"But, will there be enough for –?"

"-We're not going to the gala. We're not doing anything with Gotham anymore. Once we escape, we get out and never come back. It's the best. If our friend is tasking how I think he is, it is best that we never look back."

Josephine couldn't believe her ears, but knew he was right. She had suggested it in the first place, but now everything was falling into place so hurriedly. No final goodbyes. Here it was. In her face. The great escape of Josephine Quinzel was under way and there was a battle to be fought.

"Great, well, let's get on with it, people. Jack's got a load outside and we've got to unravel it fast."

She spied out the window. Lights flashed outside. Vans pulled in the distance. A truck with floodlight overhead lead the way. It illuminated the house, making escape an impossibility. She gritted her teeth. This wasn't going to be easy at all.

"We have no choice but to fight them. They're all around."

Jonathan was strapped into his Scarecrow persona. The canisters she filled were attached to his belt. Maybe smoking them out with fear gas might do the trick. At least it would be some kind of defense they could use.

"Professor, when they get close enough, toss one of the canisters in front of the vehicles. When they're out, they won't stand a chance. At least that can slow some of them down."

Professor Crane unlatched one canister and gripped it in his palm. The window gave a clear shot of the landscape and incoming attackers. A good throw would get it where it needed to be. He raised his arm, poising for the hurl. The vans pulled up just far enough….they were getting out….taking forever doing it….but they were making their way towards the house….

The Scarecrow broke the window and launched the canisters like a grenade. The canister flew high, unnoticed before landing unceremoniously in the dirt. The men didn't take notice of it. A couple stood near it with weary expressions. Josephine couldn't tell what dialogue was shared but one idiot kicked it, setting it off. Yellow gas spewed from the side, engulfing the front vans in a mustard cloud. Those near it began coughing terribly before wheezing and shrinking to the ground.

Many screamed. What, she didn't understand. But, it was obviously their deepest fears. Their body went into shock. Writhing and seizing were not uncommon effects of the toxin. Josephine couldn't suppress a grin as she watched the men rolling on the dirt in shame. That was what s=they got when they messed with the Scarecrow.

"When do we head out?"

"Not until that gas clears a bit. We don' want to get caught in it. There's a breeze."

"Won't we need to get going soon? If that friend of yours catches us-"

"For God's sake, he's not any friend of mine. He's come to give all of us trouble and if we leave now, we'll be in the cross fire and none of us will get back alive."

Then there was something, something off in the distance. A clicking noise, muffed calls were outside, waiting to be heard. The devil was ringing. Someone had to answer.

A megaphone clicked on below. From the cracked glass, Josephine heard a distinct troublesome voice clear itself over the meadow.

"Hey, Clown Princess, or should I just call you Josephine? That's all you're going to be after tonight, you little bitch. You've ruined my night and now I'm collecting my dues. You can't run. You can't hide. I know you're all cozy in that house with the professor. What's he doing? Screwing you?"

Josephine balled her fists. She was not a coward. If not for the gas, she would go down there. Sure, she was immune, but the crossfire about to occur would kill her. She wasn't Superman.

"Yeah, um, you're going to get your ass out of that house, or my boys here are going to drag you out. You got that?"

"Bastard," she hissed. Firetongue came close and leant near her as if to hear an answer that would save them all from a horrible fate. "Don't know what exactly what's going to happen, but even if there is a horrible crossfire and we all get blown to bits, we're not going out as his little bitches."

Firetongue suppressed a grin. He is too far out of his league.

"We can't hide anymore," she spoke more to herself than to him. She turned from the window and went for the door, hand resisting the handle. The men clicked their guns, ready for an assault at any moment. They nodded their heads like the macho men they tried to pull off. Scarecrow stared at her, concerned. We went up to him, peeling off his mask and kissed him. She melted into the embrace, arms firmly holding him near. He wasn't leaving her, not tonight, not ever. She was his and he was hers.

This wasn't going to be easy.

In her back pocket, she fingered a key unknown to the rest. She slipped from the grasp and rushed out the door, locking it swiftly as she could. There was commotion from the other side, but from all the external roar of the screams, the protestations went unheard. It was easier this way. She paused only once, but continued on to Jack and the mounds of henchmen waiting for her. Feet rushed into the clearing where the gas was. Men gyrated –spiraled out of control –became the madmen they feared the most. Finding that megaphone was her big concern.

There were more men than she thought, courtesy of the Italian armada hauled up in the docks. Thieves the lot. Jack was to blame in all this, hunting her, making her life miserable. And a living hell. Why couldn't she find him?

Some of the men clever enough to bring gas masks faced off against her. The sweet smell of napalm was heavy. She fished out the knife and whirled it into several of their livers, hearts, and any major artery she could strike. Blood splattered across the night, the heath over the wheat and golden locks of hay on the forestation.

Faint screams erupted over the henchmen. They were so familiar but felt so far away.

Firetongue?

Flames were all over the place. They surrounded her but she didn't fear them. It was a sign. At least one was okay.

Jonathan?

She might have heard his screams or laughter or both. He must be around her somewhere. Were they safe? Would he forgive her for what she did? She prayed –yes prayed –for something to tell her, but she didn't have the time to listen.

Life met death in a whirlwind of her hate and disgust for everything and anyone willing to face off against her. She was at her end with the battle and wanted nothing more than for it to end with her as the victor and Jack's head at the end of a spoke as she hurled it at her father's feel, proclaiming herself as the rightful heir. It was her place. Her place…her place!

She struck harder and harder. One by one they fell. She was in a blind fury and there was no stopping her. The madness had taken her. It had enveloped her mind to the point of bloodshed. It was a pattern; knife, flesh, metal, skin…more and more. She couldn't realize the sudden change in crowd control as they began to retreat. Why, she didn't know, but still fought her way, implementing more kicks and punches than she ever thought she would use in a single battle.

When she had dipped the thin metal into the last nearest henchmen, the last of them abandoned her and drove away. As the gas cleared, she realized.

The house had been ransacked. It was destroyed. Half was in a blaze; the other was in a illumination of smoke and wood falling to pieces. She stumbled as she watching the last parts fall down. The chimney once so tall and strong looking now a smoldering pile of soot and ash. She watched it in horror. The door was broken. The windows shattered. The walls beat down. What else? They could have gotten away. There were too many. Jack must have taken them too. She thought she heard….but they must be gone. Engulfed in its inhabitant's flames. What a way to die.

Nothing has quite looked so hopeless than had it in that moment. But eventually it got much worse.

She heard the purring overhead. Chop, chop, chop, chop….

Police at last. At long last.