This is an actual chapter update 8D.

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Disclaimer: Do not own. Except Evelyn, Issac and Michelle 8D

Needless to say, Isaac was mildly concerned when I returned to the apartment crying my eyes out. After I told him what had happened, he was out for blood and on top of his hit-list was the billionaire I'd just left.

"Calm down, Shorts," I said, sniffing afterward and wiping my nose on the sleeve of my jacket.

"You expect me to calm down after that arrogant rich guy so blatantly told you he didn't give a care about anybody and that you should just leave? Hah!" He let loose a most uncharacteristic snort, and I began to giggle.

"Eve, this is not the time for laughter. He was a total jerk to you, and you most certainly deserve a better treatment than that," said my friend, brows creased in frustration. "Sunshine, honestly." I wiped my nose again, my giggle dying away in my throat.

"He's just a conceited playboy, Shorts," I said. "No reason to get all up in a hissy about it."

"Eve, sweetie, it matters to me when people make you cry. When somebody makes you cry, I feel it deep in my soul that it is my civil duty to talk to them about it," Isaac began. "Whether you approve or not is not my concern, but I'll be paying Bruce Wayne a visit soon."

"I take it that she won't be back anytime soon, sir?" Alfred said as he followed Bruce toward the dining room.

"I should have said something, Alfred," Bruce uttered quietly. Alfred placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"You did what you needed to, sir," said the old butler. Bruce nodded, then took his seat at the dining room table.

"I have the distinct feeling that I'll be up all night trying to locate Joker. There hasn't been any sight of him since the bank robbery," he said, taking a bite of the linguini that Alfred had prepared.

"Will you be needing help, sir?"

"I don't believe so, Alfred. Though whoever the Theatric Phantom is, I'm sure we'll be after the same goal. I have a feeling I'll be seeing her again soon."

"If I were a sadistic psycho villain who robbed banks and murdered people, where would be the most likely place to hide?"

I was perched carefully atop a tall skyscraper, near downtown Gotham. I had finally procured a pair of black, flat-bottomed boots that were comfortable enough for me to squirrel around it, but durable enough that they could take a beating and still be wearable. The only thing that stood out on my outfit now was the bright LED light from my watch whenever I had to check the time.

I was positive that the Batman didn't have a watch; that he had some sort of mechanism in his cowl that he wore that told him the time. I bet it was never wrong.

My little digital was at least waterproof.

I glanced down at the screen, pressing a side button and seeing 12:26 am appear with a ghastly green glow.

"Hmmm…well, it seems nothing really important is going on," I murmured to myself.

"Do you always stand in plain sight when you're on surveillance?" came a cold, even voice from behind me. I turned quickly, nearly loosing my footing on the edge, but caught myself and faced my intruder.

The black cowl he wore hid the upper half of his face, only revealing his lips, which were pressed tightly in a thin line. Behind the cowl I could make out a pair of steely eyes, staring at me. I was simply perplexed a moment, yet again awed by the terror that struck through me whenever he was present, yet at the same time relieved that he was indeed alright after the bullet went through him.

"Do you make it a habit to sneak up on girls in the middle of the night?" I questioned, my attempt to keep my voice steady and even working. For now, anyway.

No reply.

I sighed, standing.

"Alright, I guess I'll go somewhere else and look for the Joker, seeing as you've come to claim this corner of town." I carefully tried to make my way past him, to the fire escape. His firm grip grabbed my arm, the simple gesture making his cape billow around his lower half like a dancing demon.

"It's too dangerous to go after him alone," he said in the same voice as earlier. There was something eerily familiar about it.

"Are you proposing that you come with me?" I questioned, the weight of his hand on my arm was almost overwhelming, but not entirely unpleasant nor unwelcome.

"No. I'm suggesting that you leave the characters such as the Joker to me."

"Oh, so you're saying I'm not cut out to be a superhero?" I countered.

"No. You don't understand. Criminals like the Joker, Two-Face, Scarecrow. They're not petty thieves and con artists. They have multiple homicides, robberies, anything you can name under their belt. They are not a force to be trifled with by someone such as yourself. You will end up getting killed if you try to face them head to head."

"Then why don't you help me?" I questioned. His grip on my arm loosened, and his hand went back to his side, beneath his demonic cape.

"I can't be looking out for you or worrying about you while I'm fighting," he said. "It's…complicated."

I shook my head, taking a small step back, then turned to gaze out at the city.

"It's not complicated. I'm not sure what's going through that masked head of yours, but it can't be that complicated. If you don't want me to get hurt you can just say so," I said. When no reply came, I turned around.

I was alone on the rooftop.

"You have a knack for disappearing when the situation gets too hot for you, y'know!" I called out, my voice echoing in the emptiness of the rooftop. I sighed heavily, then sat down on the edge of the bricks, my eyes flickering back to the city.

Down in the Narrows, not too far from the asylum he should be in, in a derelict apartment, sat the Joker. He raked a hand through his green hair, mussing it up more than it was. He rested his chin on his hands, and his elbows on his knees.

"You know, Harl," he called lazily over his shoulder, "we really should find some more interesting people to torture."

From behind him came an agonizing scream, then silence. Light and quick footsteps followed, and a black and red clad figure came skipping up.

"You're absolutely right, Mister J," said Harley Quinn. "We should get some kids or somethin'."

"That's a good idea, but not quite what I had in mind, Harl," said the Joker, standing. "I was thinking more of a big wig of some kind. Y'know, someone high up there. Somebody they'd come looking for if they went missing. We can kidnap 'em, then see what we can get out of them before gassing 'em and chucking 'em away somewhere."

Harley squealed with delight.

"Y'know who I think we should get, Puddin'?" she said, bouncing up and down excitedly. The clown-faced psychopath turned to look lazily at her.

"Who, Harl?"

"The Prince 'o Gotham. Bruce Wayne."

"I'm tucking in for the night, sir," came Alfred's voice through the communicator in Batman's cowl. Batman didn't reply, but there really was no need.

He was standing atop Wayne Tower, hiding his presence amongst the Gothic gargoyles that littered the rooftop, staring down at the city laid out before him. He grasped the corners of his cape tightly, then leapt into the dark sky.

He soared down, the cape snapping out behind him like, well, like a pair of bat wings.

His dark eyes scanned the streets below him. Surprisingly enough, however, they were rather quiet.

A scream shattered that in an instant.

I screamed.

I mean, come on. What else do you do when somebody comes up behind you, silently, I might add, and grabs your around the throat, pressing something cold and metallic to your jugular?

It wasn't a very superhero thing to do.

I took a deep breath, ignoring whatever the hell the thug behind me was saying, and also ignoring the beer fumes that were emanating so heavily from his breath. I brought my arm up in front of me, then slammed my elbow into his gut. He 'oofed', moving his knife and backing away a moment.

That was all I needed.

I turned around quickly, sending a spinning high kick at the man's head. It collided, and he went down, cursing.

I fell into an offensive stance as the man stumbled back to his feet. My top hat had fallen off in the scuffle, and it lay at my feet.

"Back off," I hissed at the man. He stumbled away, toward the fire escape on the rooftop. I sighed with relief, bending to pick up my top hat.

When I straightened back up, Batman was standing before me. I must've leapt at least three feet into the air, and I dropped my top hat again.

"You like to see people jump when they see you, don't you?" I questioned. It could have been some light trick, but I could've swore that he smiled, even if it was almost unnoticeable.

"Are you hurt?"

I picked up my top hat once again, cramming it onto my heat in an exaggerated gesture.

"No. It was just some pathetic drunk anyway," I replied. He took a step toward me and I could have reached out at touched his Kevlar lined chest.

"You need to be more careful," he said. I could almost hear some concern in his voice.

"So glad you're concerned," I said. I had the most uncanny feeling inside of me at the moment, and it happened whenever Batman was around. I'm not sure if it was fear, or if it was affection. Whatever it was, it was giving my stomach quite the time with all of the butterflies. Thoughts buzzed through my head, and I'm pretty sure were running into each other because I could barely muster up a coherent reply to his answer.

"I am."

I had most certainly not expected this. Batman? Concerned? Hah! The very gall of the thought!

So why did I believe him?

"I…I have to go," I stated, then moved past him slowly. He made no gesture that he was going to stop me. I walked quickly to the fire escape and leapt over, onto the metal ladder.

He was already off the roof.

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