Hey guyzzzz!!!

Wow. So, I love this chapter. I LOVE it. It is my favorite thing I have ever written. If you don't, REVIEW! If you do, REVIEW!

In any case... REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn't give you songs last time, so here are three...

No Fear- The Rasmus

City of Delusion- Muse

Ten Speed (Of God's Blood and Burial)- Coheed and Cambria

It's a bit of a cliffy at the end, but you can deal. :)

A loud banging woke Jess, and when Blake threw open the door and screamed "Good morning, sunshine!" as loud as he could, she rolled over onto her stomach and groaned.

Laughing, Blake and Laurence strolled brazenly into her room and ripped away her covers. She curled up, oddly cold and extremely tired, with a headache to boot. Her whole body ached and she couldn't remember why.

Damn those pills.

"Holy shit, Jesster," Blake said in wonder when he caught sight of her back, hardly concealed in a tank top.

Groggily, Jess reached around to feel her pained shoulder blade, sort of forming a picture in her head of being thrown against a wall. She brushed along her skin, feeling what had to be dried blood, the beginnings of a scab, and then rolled over.

Laurence was already halfway out the door.

"I'll get Billy," he said.

Before Jess could protest, he was gone.

Blake, swallowing any anger or disgust he might have felt, sat calmly at the foot of her cot while she sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. She always seemed to ruin their good moods…

"Is Billy mad at me?" Jess asked, knowing he might be for one reason or another.

She knew he had kissed her because it had caused such a ruckus last night. She simply didn't remember him doing so.

"I don't think so," Blake replied quietly, bringing a hand to her cheek bone, concern in his eyes.

Jess felt her cheek, testing the flesh slightly and feeling that it was a little tender, bruised.

"Is is swollen?" she asked.

Blake shook his head with a wolfish grin.

"Your pretty face is all intact, my dear. The bruise is just a little more yellow than the rest of you."

Jess rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Well, that's a relief," she said. "How would I have been able to go out with all of you if my face had been swollen?"

"Right," Blake said, laughing. "We need you. Moral support and all that."

Jess grinned, leaning into his shoulder. It amazed her that, even after all the drama she caused and all the rejections she offered, these guys were still with her one hundred percent. It was more than she deserved.

"Did he do this to you?" Blake asked, already knowing the answer as he ran a finger along the cut on her shoulder blade.

Jess nodded.

"Who else would it be?"

"What pissed him off this time?"

She shrugged.

"I don't really know," she said. "I think he insulted me so I tried to hit him. And then…" She shrugged. "I was on the ground before I knew it, of course, and being kicked like a dog." Blake frowned, his face somehow passive as though he was torn between being angry with the Joker and being completely unsurprised. "I was stupid," Jess went on. "I know I won't do it again."

Blake nodded.

"That's probably good…"

"Jess!"

Jess's eyes snapped up to Billy, standing in the doorway, a shocked, horrified expression on his face. Jesus. She must really have looked like shit.

Laurence was behind him, a wet paper towel and bandages in each hand.

"Morning, Billy," Jess said, trying to be cheerful.

He immediately came forward, followed closely by Laurence, and sat beside her, taking a paper towel and gently pressing it to her back to wipe the dried blood away. She did what she could not to flinch; she didn't want him to be even more worried for her than he already was.

"You okay, Jess?" Billy asked softly, the crease between his eyebrows not even going away when she gave him a wide, brave smile.

"I'm fine," she said. "He's not mad at me this morning, so I should be safe for the day. I just need to be more careful."

Billy pulled back, finding her eyes, his look troubled.

"I don't want you near him," he said. "Not if he's going to do shit like this to you."

"Afraid there's little that can be done about that," Blake said. "The boss is counting her in today. He sent me to wake her up."

"Listen," Jess grabbed Billy's hands and stopped him from bandaging her back. "I'll be fine, okay? I promise. I promise you and if I broke any promise I made to you I'd never be able to forgive myself. Okay? I'll stay out of trouble and out of the way. I promise." She looked down to the ground. "It's only going to be more trouble than it's worth if I refuse to go."

Billy, looking only slightly mollified, sighed but nodded. Jess slid out of bed, heading bouncily towards the door, a grin plastered on her face to show them that she wasn't nearly as scared as she felt. Every time they had a job there were jitters of course, but after last night--from which the memories were slowly returning--it seemed especially bad.

Memory of the Joker's face as he stared at her angrily was enough to make her want to crawl back into bed, and truth be told she wasn't positive that he wasn't mad at her anymore. But she smiled through it, as she'd learned to do, and turned around to kiss Billy lightly on the cheek.

"Thanks for looking out for me," she said, patting his injured arm softly. "I wish you could come with us."

He shook his head.

"I'm glad I can't," he said, his crooked old grin returning a little. Jess was relieved to see it. "This arm has been a blessing."

"Thank the Batman," Blake laughed, standing up. "Tell him your bone allows you to sit on your ass at home base all day and watch the game while the rest of us are out working."

"I will," Billy replied with a grin, "just as soon as I see him again. I'll thank him. I might even return the favor."

Jess showered and the warm water felt absurdly good against her cold skin. She was unpleasantly surprised at the amount of blood she watched swirling down the drain, but a quick check in the mirror once she'd finished washing told her that her wound was no longer freshly bleeding. She smiled at it, proud of her body for healing so quickly, and touched her cheekbone gingerly. The bruise there was a little worse than Blake had made it out to be, but it could be easily covered up with makeup and she did so, smearing first lotion, then foundation over the tender skin.

She did her makeup as she had done the last two times: reddish purple lips, dark black eyeliner, and a little swirl under one eye.

Letting her hair loose, Jess jogged back to her room, wrapped in a robe, and pulled on her costume dress, which somehow already felt familiar and comforting, despite it being too tight and too short. She grabbed her top hat on the way out the door.

"What are you doing?" Powers demanded as soon as she stepped into the alleyway where they'd hidden the vans. Jess frowned, confused. "We're supposed to be undercover, Jesster. Even the boss is hiding who he is. You wanna get this cover blown?"

Jess raised her eyebrows, affronted, and flipping him off, turned back to go change. Powers grabbed her rudely gesturing hand and pulled her back to him.

"No time," he said, bending her finger back uncomfortably until she'd shaken out of his grasp. "Leave the hat and just put this on."

He handed her a black woolen pull over sweater.

"Wipe off the swirly bit under your eye, too. Otherwise you're fine."

Grasping the sweater tightly, Jess glared at him as he walked away, thinking what a hard ass he was. No one had told her she wasn't supposed to dress up. There was no reason he needed to be such a dick.

She pulled the sweater over her head. It was big on her but it was warm. The neck was way stretched out and flopped over her shoulder and the sleeves hung past her hands. With the short dress underneath, the look was a bit eighties but infinitely more average than the dress alone. She ran to the nearest van and used its window as a mirror to wipe off some of the excessive eyeliner, then threw the hat back into the theater. The men were mostly loaded into the cars already so Jess, rushing, didn't have time to figure out where the Joker was. She hadn't seen him all morning.

She hopped into the van and closed the doors quickly behind her. In a matter of minutes, they were off.

The parade was only just being set up when they arrived, but there were plenty of people milling around to blend into. They stashed the vans in an alleyway and split up, Blake pulling Jess off in an arbitrary direction before she could start to look for the Joker.

"We're in charge of our own cop," Blake whispered as they walked briskly down the sidewalk, the cool morning air whipping through Jess's hair.

She took a moment to appreciate the tall, glass sided buildings and far away sounds of cars along busy thoroughfares, then turned to look questioningly at Blake. Without missing a beat, he answered her unasked question.

"We're each replacing a cop in the Honor Guard. Not all of them but most of them. By the time they might notice, we'll already be in the parade and, besides, Powers says they probably just chose the shooters this morning. The men won't even know the difference. So, I have to find my guy, grab him, and somehow get him to White's apartment."

"I thought White came from Arkham," Jess said, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk and stumbling ungracefully. Blake chuckled at her.

"He still rents out that space," he said. "He and Schiff haven't been staying in the theater, thank God. I guess they camp out there."

"So, how do we know the Honor Guard from the rest of them?"

This was a good question, she thought. There were a ton of police officers and detectives and other city officials on Parkside Avenue this morning, all preparing for the parade in an hour. There were also a great number of men in kilts, each carrying a bagpipe. At the end of the boulevard, where the street met City Hall, they had arranged an enormous platform and podium, at which Jess assumed the mayor would be delivering Loeb's eulogy.

A sudden flutter of butterflies hit her stomach. That place might very well be where she would see a man die today.

"The Honor Guard all have a certain uniform on," Blake said, pulling Jess suddenly around a corner, hiding from someone.

He pushed her against a wall, pressed a finger to his lips, and peeked around the corner to the street.

"There's one now," he whispered, pushing her farther back.

She crouched in the shadow of the building and watched as Blake timed his movements then, suddenly, leapt forward out of sight. After barely a second, he was back, dragging a silent, complacent man in a blue uniform who held his hands up due to the revolver Blake had pressed against his spine. The cop was plainly terrified.

"Keep quiet or you're meat," Blake whispered into his ear, dragging him backwards and then turning him around, forcing him against a wall, and frisking him, checking for any concealed weapons besides his large rifle, which he tossed to Jess. After finding none, he began to lead the man quickly down the street, keeping out of sight of anyone, taking back ways and alleys to a large apartment building down the way. He only paused to take a role of duct tape from his coat pocket and press a piece firmly against the man's mouth, then blindfold him with what Jess was pretty sure used to be one of her black socks.

They entered the building with absolutely no hiccups along the way, almost too easily, and headed down the stark white halls to the elevator.

"What's the time?" Blake demanded, sweat glistening on his brow as he pushed the cop into the lift. Craning her neck, Jess stole a glance at the digital watch around his wrist.

"8:21," she told him.

He smiled.

"Boss told us to be there before 8:30," he said. "We're perfect, kiddo."

The Honor Guard member whimpered pitifully. Jess hoped the Joker wouldn't kill him.

They arrived at a door with a covered window marked 1502 in plain black numbers. Motioning for Jess to open the door, Blake shoved the officer in roughly, eliciting a small gasp of fear from the man. Jess followed behind them, still clutching the man's rifle in her sweaty palms, growing ever more nervous as time went by.

The apartment was a studio space, bare and cold, with exposed support beams reaching up to the ceiling. Against the beam at the dead center of the room were three men, all tied at the wrists and ankles and gagged and blindfolded. They sat passively, rightly assuming they were being held at gunpoint by White and Schiff, already standing in the room.

The other man who had gotten his cop so far went by the name of Peter, an ex drug dealer and robber. He looked very nervous at being alone in the room with White and Schiff and when he saw Blake, a wide smile of relief lit up his face.

Smiling back, Blake told his cop to stand still and started to undress him quickly, throwing his clothes aside and pocketing his badge.

Soon, left in no more than a wife-beater and boxers, plus the blindfold and gag, the man began to shiver and make small noises of fear. Jess felt a little bad for him, but he wasn't being killed or anything… she hoped. He could deal.

"Wanna try your luck, kid?" Blake asked, tossing her the duct tape suddenly.

Jess caught it and frowned, not sure what he wanted.

"So, tie him up," Blake said, as though that were obviously what one would normally do in such a situation.

He immediately forced the man's hands behind his back, keeping his gun pressed against his neck to cut down on struggle. Jess tugged at the tape and felt satisfied when a long piece came off in her hands. She started to wind it around their captive's wrists, tight so that he couldn't escape, feeling a sudden rush of giddy anticipation.

She was enjoying this, she realized, and even knowing how sick that was didn't make her want to stop.

She thought back on every negative thing a man like this had done to her in her life--the cop that had given her her first ticket and no pity, the officer who hadn't even laughed at a joke she'd told him in freshman year, the one who had stared at her disapprovingly when she'd walked down the street in eighth grade smoking a cigarette with her friend, the one who'd made her cry when she was in kindergarten…

Cops were so intimidating and a lot of them knew it and used it. A lot of them loved that power play and wouldn't even crack a smile or show any kind of human emotion.

Jess hated cops.

This guy? This guy was a cop.

She pictured the smile he would have on his face as he gave a ticket to some little old lady and pulled tight, sealing his binding and making him flinch.

Getting the gist of the situation, Jess pushed him down to the ground, feeling a sick rush of sadistic power that a little thing like her could push around a big strong man, especially a cop.

It felt good, like nothing else she'd ever known, and no guilt was there to mar the pleasure of being bad. She wasn't hurting or killing him. He had it coming, she was sure.

Everyone had something like this coming.

For all she knew, this guy could be a serial rapist.

"How do you feel now, officer?" she asked sweetly, pulling his ankles together and starting to wind a length of duct tape around them. "Does it feel good to be helpless like this? Hmm?" She ripped the tape off the role and patted it down, running her fingers up his bare leg and tapping his knee. "Let's hope you stop making other people feel the way you do from now on." He whimpered and she raised her voice. "That goes for all of you."

She couldn't be positive he'd ever made anyone feel like that, but she was pretty sure he had. Everyone had. She had. But she felt justified somehow, and teaching him a lesson while enjoying her own evilness was kind of nice.

Really nice, actually.

She loved being a part of this. That feeling she'd had during her first criminal outing just kept growing.

Every time she'd done something bad at home, there was guilt or consequence to deal with.

Here there was none of that. Hell, this wasn't even her world. She felt more free than she ever had.

Maybe the Joker was right. Liberator indeed.

She was distracted from her thoughts when the door opened behind her and at least three more men were shoved in with little groans.

She stood up, patting her cop on the top of the head, and turned towards the entrance where Laurence, Powers and Drew were stripping their hostages for uniforms. Blake was already dressed, the suit fitting badly on his tall frame.

"Playing with your toys, Jesster?" Drew asked, motioning to the men against the beam, his smile lessening the hideousness of his words.

Her toys? Not so much. Just… targets of any anger she had towards humankind.

"They make ugly dolls," she replied, faux pouting.

The men laughed. Jess loved how easily they laughed at anything she did that they considered cute. Except for Schiff and White, of course. White was staring off into space, as usual, and Schiff was regarding her warily but with interest, his eyes darting down to her ass in a way that made her stomach turn.

"Oh, you got here before me. I'm so pleased."

The familiar voice incited in Jess a reaction she wished she didn't feel: not one of horror but of excitement. She turned towards him as he came through the door with an officer of his own, and watched almost in admiration as his painted face took on a look of giddy anticipation.

"Let's see… one, two, three, four, five, six… and I make seven. Where's the last of you?" he asked.

"I'm here!"

Out of breath and anxious, in jogged Austin, dragging a blindfolded, gagged Honor Guard member. The Joker regarded him for a moment in silence, only blinking when he muttered sorry and walked past him to start stripping his officer.

The Joker was treating his own cop with unprecedented cruelty and the men took note of this, suddenly more brutal with their own catches, growling at them to "shut the hell up and take your jacket off."

"Almost got caught," Austin whispered to Blake, wiping a fleck of sweat off his brow and glancing uneasily towards where the Joker was now busy undressing his catch. "On the street. This fucker almost yelled for help."

He slapped the side of his hostage's head and pushed him down to the ground.

Jess was turning away from Austin as he started to undress so he could change when a sudden thought burst into her head.

Spinning on her heel, she found the Joker again, his purple vest lolling open, in the process of unbuttoning his slacks, and smiled to herself as she watched him, wondering what he looked like under those yards of purple and green fabric…

He saw her watching.

He always noticed her exactly when she didn't want him to and as soon as their eyes met, he started to pull off his vest. Jess had no choice but to turn away, blushing. He was smiling in a way that made her think he knew exactly why she was looking in his direction and she turned her back on him even more firmly.

Whatever.

It was sick and voyeuristic anyway, like reading a Stephanie Meyer novel.

The thought of watching the Joker take his clothes off should not have been as appealing as it was, so in a sort of decisive self-denial, Jess walked to the window to look out at the street below.

The men were dressed and ready in a matter of twenty minutes.

The Joker had disappeared into one of the back rooms at one point and, after a while, came back with a bare face: not a single speck of makeup.

Jess loved to look at him like this.

His skin color was so interesting. She loved it. It was as if a naturally tan (bronzed was the first word that came to her mind but she refused to liken him to anything close to a god… though she supposed Loki worked…) person had stayed inside for too long and his rich pigmentation started to fade away until the color walked the narrow line between ghost white and beach dark. Distinctive.

His scars only added to his appeal now. Jess felt no revulsion upon looking at them. They just made him more unique. And his green hair was knotted back under the uniform hat, hidden from view, only the dirty blond roots showing now.

Apart from his scars and the dark circles beneath his eyes--Jess was starting to conclude that he must be an insomniac--he looked almost normal in that uniform and yet still so… uncommon.

She wanted to kiss him, she found.

This relationship with him--if you could call it that--was different from anything she'd experienced. The fact that she couldn't easily go up to him and show her affection was odd, both because she wasn't used to having to hide it from those around her and because she wasn't used to not being sure whether or not the person who was the closest thing she had to a boyfriend would actually want her to touch him.

So she kept her distance and waited for him to approach. She wondered if that would ever affect his self-confidence.

Probably not.

He read her too well. He knew she wanted him… he had practically told her so, with that "you can't resist whatever it is you see in me" comment.

Did he get some pleasure out of that? He was such a masochist, it was hard to be sure. Perhaps he liked it more when she tried to push him away.

Ineffective, of course; the man was darkly irresistible.

As the group started to file out the door, Jess found herself subconsciously drawn to the Joker's side, sticking as close to him as she could for no apparent reason. She hoped he wouldn't notice and didn't make eye contact with him until she heard him laugh quietly and felt him pat the top of her head. She glanced up to glare at him and his eyes told her that he knew exactly what she was doing, so she started to fall behind him, back to where Blake walked with Drew.

His fingers closed around her upper arm in an instant and he pulled her back to him.

"Excited for the parade, Jesster?" he asked, an eager glint in his eye.

Jess grinned and nodded.

"Where exactly do I go, though?" she asked, her question raising itself in her head for the first time.

"Stay close," the Joker said. "Blend into the crowd." He glanced at her, amused. "If possible…" Jess rolled her eyes. "You'll know when to get back to the vans."

"What if I lose you guys?"

"Just don't, Jesster." He took a sharp corner, dragging Jess out of metal door and into the sunlight on Parkside Avenue.

The men started to split up wordlessly, going off in different directions. Jess could hear the bagpipes warming up--if that was what you could call the terrible racket from down the street--and she felt sure the parade was almost ready to begin.

Once all of the men had walked off, Jess, assuming it was time to find a good viewpoint, pulled away from the Joker and started down the street. It hadn't occurred to her that he had more to say, but when she felt him grab her wrist and pull her roughly back to him, she wasn't too surprised.

"What?" she asked as he turned her to face him, their bodies coming close to collision with the movement.

"No good byes? No fair thee wells? No tears or waves?" The Joker clicked his tongue. "Not very polite of you."

Jess tried not to let herself get annoyed. That would only catalyze any conflict with him. She wanted this day to go off without a hitch and she felt sure he'd want to ruin it somehow.

"Good bye," she replied coldly, trying to pull away again.

He giggled, his hand still vice like around her wrist, and rocked back and forth on his heels.

Jess stared at his bare face, surprised with every look to find him so human. She still couldn't be sure whether it detracted from his attraction or added to it.

God, that was so sick, that she might have found the makeup more sexy. But, like this, he was darker somehow.

The makeup was the light, whimsical, dangerous, brutal and laughing. Mania.

The face beneath was the dark, mysterious, angry, tortured and crying. Dementia.

He was caught between the two worlds of madness, torn apart even from himself, unsure where he belonged and not wanting to belong anyway.

"Now, now, now Jesster," the Joker intoned. "You know me better than that."

"Do I?" Jess asked, watching his face inch closer, stealing herself, trying not to be eager to kiss him. "I'm pretty sure I don't. I'm pretty sure I have no idea who the hell you are."

"Not my fault, Jesster. You oughta be more observant." He ended on the harsh sound of the "T" and Jess watched his eyes, finding a sign of impatience and irritation.

What did he want? Was he annoyed that she hadn't jumped him yet?

That thought sent shivers of pleasure coursing down her spine. Sticking it to the Joker was as dangerous and exhilarating as sticking it to Satan.

"Sorry," she said, still feigning innocence. He knew it, too. "Was there something else you wanted, then? We're going to be late."

The Joker's eyes immediately flicked down the street. Sure enough, people were lining up to start the parade and the entire avenue was packed with police officers, mourners, and the occasional horse or two.

The Joker giggled, thrilled to see this, and set excited eyes back on Jessica.

"So we don't have much time then," he said.

He was bending down to kiss her when a sudden shout from someone in the crowd on Parkside found its way over the din.

"Hey! Hey you!"

The Joker turned curiously, his arms still wrapped around Jess, lowering his head so his face was hidden in shadow from the man standing at the end of the block that connected Parkside from the street they were on.

"Yeah! You! Stop romancing. You have work to do!"

The Joker tilted his head at the officer, obviously someone of a higher rank. Jess felt him stiffen, felt his fingers twitch against her waist, wishing he could reach for his little knife.

Jess reached down and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

He jerked away from her suddenly, turning to stare at her, obviously surprised by her move to soothe him. She cleared her throat.

"You should probably go," she said.

"Get over to your fucking position, officer!" the irate man yelled.

Jess turned to glare at him.

"One minute, I'm coming!" the Joker yelled, lowering his voice so that it was all but unrecognizable.

Jess giggled and the official stalked off, out to yell at more people who weren't where they needed to be.

"I'll see you after the show, Jesster," the Joker told her, leaning down again.

Jess, somehow touched and pitying of his reaction to her hand on his, as though he'd never experienced it before, reached up and gave him a kiss she hoped was sweet. Her lips lingered slowly on her but there was no sexuality. Only affection.

He didn't like that, either. After a moment, he pulled away and regarded her for a moment as though she was simply puzzling.

"Okay, so, listen," he said after a moment, the pause obviously needed to collect his thoughts, "when Garcia is dead, react. Be a little…" he toyed with the invisible word in the air, "uh, actress. And run to the vans."

Jess nodded and he started to turn, ready to be off down the street.

"Hey, wait, J," she called.

He stopped, his shoulder hunched in that unmistakable way and turned his head. Jess was surprised he wasn't recognized everywhere he went. She could recognize him just by looking at his shoulder blades.

He had an incredible back…

Okay, that's enough. She had a question.

"Why am I here?"

His answer was immediate. Jess wondered if he had a script for life.

"To watch," he said. "And… to enjoy."

And then he was gone, blending into the crowd gathered for Loeb's funeral. For such a disliked guy, Loeb sure had a lot of friends…

Jess could scarcely help wanting to sprint after the Joker and kiss him again, feel him hold her. She missed him as soon as he left, she realized.

Was this some kind of sick dependency thing? Was it, like, Stockholm Syndrome?

If she had it, at least she knew she did. It didn't take away the feeling of affection she had for him, regardless of how cruel he was.

Maybe she was masochistic, too.

And then the memory of how good it felt when she pushed the cop to the ground returned and Jess looked down at her pale hands.

No. Sadist.

Definitely a sadist.

Was that why she and the Joker got along?

She loved dishing it out and he loved taking it, no matter how angry he got. Jess thought he might just be addicted to the rush of emotion, the passion, the adrenaline.

Sadism was too easy for him, she realized. He liked to play and make himself a player. He loved being vulnerable but making others fear him. He loved being insulted, abused, denied and fucked with because then he could get even or he could kill or he could just laugh and love it. It was probably etched into him, a habit learned from childhood.

The man was bad for her.

Jess shook her head, wondering why she didn't just run to Wayne manor and ask for help. She was alone on the street.

Oh my God.

She was alone.

In the open.

She could escape right now!

Go, a voice urged, Just go. Run and leave this all behind. Forget him. Maybe you can shack up with Batman or something.

But her feet didn't move, didn't even twitch.

She didn't remember when she'd switched sides. Maybe it was the second time he'd kissed her. Maybe it was the first. Maybe it was when Billy's arm had gotten broken. Maybe it hadn't been until right now.

Whenever the change had occurred, it had and she was altered, deeply.

She was on the Joker's side, now, her depth of loyalty so profound it was hard to remember when she'd ever been rooting for Batman. She'd said she hadn't understood the Lucky Twenty when they started to help him. Now she did. She didn't know why, but she did.

She couldn't understand her motives. Maybe she had none. She sure as hell couldn't think of any. But she was driven to be on this side.

She was on the Joker's side!

Knowing that, realizing that, gave her freedom like she'd never experienced. Suddenly she wanted to jump and scream and fight and make love, all at the same time.

She was a bad guy! A villain!

So why didn't she feel wrong?!

Because she felt right.

Not wanting to examine the reason behind this much farther, only content with the ecstasy and freedom of the moment, Jess started to walked down the street, looking for a place to watch the festivities. She was looking forward to this suddenly, more than she could remember looking forward to anything before.

She must have been walking tall and confidently, because she attracted a lot of interested attention from men as she weaved through the crowd.

She found herself giving them small, brave, sexy smiles.

Smiles that said, "Come here. I'll show you what I can do."

Oh yes.

She could do this villainess thing quite nicely.