The truck plowed into the Taurus's right side. My head jerked to the side and hit my side window with a force that nearly knocked me out. The glass splinted into a pattern of fine cracks before scattering, spilling in and out of the car.

On impulse, my hands turned the steering wheel to the left, sharply, throwing me over toward the passenger's seat.

The Taurus spun in a half circle, counterclockwise, the backend running up on the curb. It slammed into a lamppost, bending it violently before coming to a sudden halt. I was flung back toward my door, but I cushioned my flight with my left arm, bruising it with the hit.

It took me several moments to register that it was over. My body started to tremble with the overload of adrenaline surging through my system. I glanced at the passenger's side to see its window's broken glass scattered about the floor and seat. The backseat looked almost identical to the front.

The windshield had many cracks coming from the right side, stretching across to the left. Through the cracks, I could see that the hood had popped up, crumbled on the right side.

I tried my door handle, but the door refused to budge. I heaved a sigh before turning in my seat, pulling the handle as I kicked as hard as I could. The door flew open, and I let it go, keeping my foot up a second longer to make sure the door didn't swing back to hit me as I climbed out.

I stepped out, stumbling like I was drunk. I fell to the ground but caught myself with my hands and pushed myself back up, taking a few more steps forward to regain balance. Then, I looked up at the night sky as I shook.

A creaking sound alerted me, and I turned around. The streetlight I had hit was bending, creaking under its own weight. It was leaning too far out of its base. I simply watched as it fell over, smashing into the Taurus, throwing sparks in every direction as the car's roof caved in.

Shaking my head in surrender, I just lifted my arms and dropped them in defeat.

"Oh, good, you sur-viv-ed!"

"No thanks to you," I snarled, spinning.

The Joker was grinning widely as he sauntered away from his stolen truck, skipping toward me and the totaled Taurus. "I love fireworks!"

"Why don't you go make some bigger ones and leave me alone?" I growled furiously, my anger getting the better of me.

The Joker halted, his smile faltering. Then, he started laughing. "Can't-ah you see, Tiger?" he asked, throwing out his arms to the sides. "Gotham's fireworks would be bigger if you stayed with, ah, with me."

I glared at him. "That's suggestive," I deadpanned as I turned away.

The Joker shrugged carelessly. "Think what-ah you want. You'll understand later that I just-ah can't sim-ply let you go."

I decided not to push him since he wasn't going to tell me now. "You wrecked the car," I told him, impassively.

"Just a, ah, a little scratch, Tiger," the Joker replied, gleefully.

"A little scratch?" I repeated, violently turning on him. "I was borrowing that car!"

"Borrowing without per-mission or steal-ing?" he asked, giving me a critical sidelook.

"Someone was nice enough to let me borrow it." I turned away, but the Joker grabbed my wrist. Instantly, I spun, smashing my fist into his face. He laughed the pain off, tightening his grip on me. "Get your hands off me, Joker!"

"The name's 'Mister J', Tiger."

"Let go, bastard!"

The Joker whistled, raising his dark eyebrows with amusement. "Such language," he chuckled. "Where'd you learn that-ah?"

"I've lived a criminal life," I snarled. "Foul language isn't the only thing I know."

He smirked, amused. "En-light-en me, Tiger," he said, his voice menacingly curious.

"Like all normal criminals, I know the laws that I break."

"What-ah do you mean, 'normal'?"

I narrowed my eyes, and a smile played at the corners of my mouth. "Normal, I believe, are the criminals who are not in-sane." I spat the last word at him.

The Joker's eyes narrowed as rage flashed in his expression. He grabbed me roughly, clicking open his switchblade and pressing it against my jawline, applying enough pressure to make me bleed. "Wanna know what-ah I believe, Tiger?" he growled in a low tone. "I believe…that whatever doesn't kill you sim-ply makes you…stranger."

I froze, trying to hide my fear as the Joker's switchblade bit painfully into my skin. My eyes never left his, waiting for him to hurt me more. His expression didn't soften as he continued to glare at me. Even with my attention on him, I could hear a speeding car in the distance, one that turned onto our road.

Suddenly, a sharp light moved across my eyes, and I blinked, momentarily blinded. I tried turning my head to look, but the Joker held my chin firmly, his switchblade turning slightly to cut me a little more, causing me to wince. Fear pumped through me as the speeding car moved closer until I could distinguish that it was heading straight for us. Then, I heard the squeal of the brakes as the driver slammed his foot on them.

The protesting brakes caught the Joker's attention, and he turned his head. His grip on my face softened, and I was able to see a silver car squealing to a halt about half a foot from where we were standing, the Joker and I. As the vehicle kicked back, the smell of burning rubber flooded over me.

In a sudden burst of renewed anger, the Joker removed his grip on me, yelling at the driver as he walked around me and the front of the car.

I swayed on my feet, placing both hands on the car's hood to keep myself from falling over. As I hunched over the car, I felt something wet dripping from my nose. I wiped my nose on my jacket sleeve, registering the streak of blood. Touching my left temple, I felt the sticky feel of blood running down the side of my face.

Abruptly, the pain descended. I felt the darkness close in, narrowing my vision to a long, dark tunnel with a glinting bull's eye of the car's headlights at the far end. I blinked and took a deep breath to clear my head, leaving me with blackness in the corners of my eyes. My body started shaking as my adrenaline rush crested. To distract myself from the agony, I stared at my blood-streaked hand, but then nausea stirred.

I felt myself straighten, and then my legs gave out from underneath me. "Whoa, Tiger!" A pair of strong arms caught me before I collapsed, catching me under the arms. I closed my eyes, letting a groan escape my lips. At the same time, the Joker swept me up in his arms, cradling me securely to his chest.

Agony thundered in my head. I fell limp in the Joker's arms as he walked around the silver car, opening the backdoor and carefully setting me inside. The sudden movement beside me told me that the Joker must have joined me, particularly when he braced me against him as if to protect my hurting body from the jostling of the car.

I slipped into unconsciousness, only surfacing moments later in time to feel the slight pinch of a needle in my upper arm. I didn't have any time to form a thought before I lost my sense of reality.

Sharp knocking on metal awoke me. I opened my eyes to find my head down on a table's surface. My hands were tugged under the table, and when I moved them, I heard the soft jingle of handcuffs. Confused, I lifted my head, blinking with difficulty from the sandiness in my eyes. The lack of sleep was really getting to me, despite the few short naps here and there.

"Are we, ah, conscious? After being out-ah for several days?"

I blinked against the blinding light, searching for the Joker. I found him standing on the opposite side of the small metal table between us. His gloved hands were pressed flat into the surface as he leaned against it, looming close to me aggressively. I leaned back in my chair to get as far from him as I could without actually getting up and moving – which I was sure he wouldn't like.

"You're one tough girl to, ah, to keep locked up," the Joker remarked, licking his lips slowly.

I looked at him, my eyes hurting in the harsh light. I was tempted to cover my eyes with a hand, but I had the feeling that that's what he wanted me to do. Despite being tired and confused about his remark about me being out for days, I didn't want to let him win this round. And I would look stupid holding my handcuffed hands up to cover my eyes.

"I've had to look out for myself for years," I said simply, my voice cracking from lack of usage. "I know how to handle myself."

"I'll agree with that-ah." Wearily, I raised an eyebrow, and the Joker sat sideways on the table, pulling off a purple, leather glove. He lifted his hand for me to investigate, and the bruises on his hand were quite evident. "Don't-ah re-mem-ber?" he asked me, seeing my perplexed expression. "Even un-con-scious, you're a, ah, a rough woman."

"You're not the first to discover that," I mumbled.

"What was that-ah, Tiger?"

"Nothing…"

The Joker looked at me from underneath his white brow, and I watched as his tongue slid out over the beginning of a scar. He seemed irritated by my lack of enthusiasm, but it didn't bother me much since I had just woken up, only to react to him with slowed reflexes.

Then, he reached into his jacket pocket, and I couldn't help but flinch, thinking he was pulling out a knife. But he slapped a wallet into his other hand, and it wasn't just any wallet; it was my wallet. Even tired, I could recognize anything that was mine.

An abrupt rush of anger flooded through me. "You little-!" I growled, my handcuffed hands reaching for it.

The Joker grinned as he held my wallet just out of my reach. "Now you'll act a, ah, a little more en-thus-ias-tic-ally."

"That's mine!" I argued, standing up as I tried to reach for it again. The Joker laughed, raising the wallet over his head and shoving me back into my chair. "Give it back!"

"What-ah do you say?" the Joker chuckled, obviously enjoying this.

I glared at him, my tired body shaking with anger. "Hand it over or I'll rip your head off," I snarled.

"You dare to give me, me, a, ah, a threat?" The Joker burst out laughing, his laugh echoing in the small room. I narrowed my eyes as he hugged himself from laughing so hard. Then, I outstretched my hands for my wallet, but he abruptly ceased, snapping his gloveless hand on one of my wrists and bending it back.

I whimpered in pain until the Joker released me, pushing me yet again back into my chair. This time, I remained sitting, nursing my wrist, rubbing it roughly and causing my handcuffs to jingle.

"Bastard," I murmured, harshly.

"Calling me names, now?" The Joker reached over the table and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Might want to, ah, to watch it. I might find some names ah-musing, but that doesn't mean I'll, ah, let all of them pass. Next time you call me some-thing, you'll find yourself in a sit-u-ation you wouldn't-ah like. Not. One. Bit." He licked his lips quickly, and looked hard at me. "Understood?" he asked.

His grip became firm on my chin, and I said, "Understood."

The Joker grinned and lightly smacked my cheek before moving away, sliding off the table and flipping open my wallet. "I've, ah, noticed you have quite a col-lec-tion of ID cards in here, sweetheart," the Joker said, pulling some out and placing them on his edge of the table so that he had warning as to when I tried to reach for them.

I only glanced at them, recognizing each of them from the past twelve years, since I had first come into the criminal business.

"Who'd you work for?" the Joker asked curiously, reading one of the IDs.

I shrugged, and he gave me a look from underneath his brow that revealed he wanted more than just a shrug. "I've worked for several top Mobsters in many cities around the country."

"The Mob," the Joker murmured, chuckling to himself as he flicked the ID card he was holding onto the table. He picked another one, his eyes scanning it. "How many years?"

"Why do you care?"

The Joker looked at me, hurt. "I'm just-ah ask-ing," he said, innocently.

I heaved an exasperated sigh. I just wished he'd do this later when I wasn't tired. Being tired was equivalent to me not wanting to argue. That, and the fact that he had locked me up for hours without anything substantial. Maybe during the days I was unconscious, someone has taken care of me – I discarded that line of thought. I didn't want to think of the possibilities of what could have happened – but anyway, at the moment, it seemed almost like whatever the Joker asked, he was going to get an honest response.

"Twelve years," I responded.

"Twelve years?" he repeated, giving me a wide-eyed look. Through my sandy eyes, he seemed to impersonate a puppy with his wide, coal eyes. "Long time…" he murmured, flicking another ID card on the table.

"I've managed well enough to survive."

The Joker picked another ID card, but stopped, scratching his jaw with it as his eyes looked about the room in thought.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't use my ID cards to scratch an itch," I said.

The Joker flicked the ID card at me, and I flinched as it bounced off my shoulder, making him chuckle softly. He placed my wallet on the table, but kept his hand on it to ensure I couldn't take it. "You know what, ah, I think about-ah you," he began.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I don't know. I don't have ESP!"

The Joker smirked. "The tiger has a, ah, a sense of humor. I was starting to, ah, to get worried." I narrowed my eyes at him, more to protect them from the harsh light rather than glare at him. "I bet-ah that you're a woman who isn't satisfied easily, or at least not-ah for long."

"So now you're a psychologist?"

"I do happen to, ah, to know psychosis like the back of my hand-ah." The Joker smirked for a moment, and then his grin faded, leaving only his scars to create the Glasgow smile. "You know what else I think about-ah you?" he asked.

I shrugged with the curt response of "no." He scowled – or tried to seem like he was scowling.

Violently, the Joker gripped the side of the metal table and flipped it over and off to the side. One of its legs came up and struck me in the jaw, but I had turned my head, making the hit only a scratch, no major damage, just enough to cause me to bleed along the jaw, right over the cut the Joker's switchblade had given me. I winced as the new cut stung painfully over my already sensitive wound.

As the table clanged loudly on the floor, the Joker straddled on top of me, trapping my hands between my legs. He grabbed my head on either side, stopping me from looking away from his eyes. I felt the cold touch of a blade against my left cheek, and I stiffened, my eyes locking on his.

"You don't-ah care what I have to say about you?" the Joker growled, angrily. "I was going to, ah, to give you many compliments, but now, I don't-ah think you deserve them."

"Give me insults then," I said, plainly. "I wonder if you can come up with something I haven't heard of yet. I bet you could do it."

The Joker didn't like how I was trying to lighten the mood. His grip tightened, and I felt him grab a handful of my hair behind my head. "Tiger…you wanna know how I got these scars?" the Joker asked, his tone sinister.

Trapped in my position, with my hands cuffed and the Joker sitting on top of me, there was no way I was going to tell him 'no' this time. But he wasn't waiting for a response; he dived right in.

"Back when I was in, ah, in high school," he said, licking his lips, "I was a, ah, a rather decent kid. Good grades, close friends, almost your average teen-ager." His eyes darted to the side and then upwards as he said, "But see, I had one problem. Money." His eyes met mine as he continued, his tongue sliding across his lower lip. "See, my father was…a gambler, and a, ah, a drinker…and when you combine the two…he was a fiend.

"He'd go off to a nearby casino and gamble and drink away our money. One night, I come home late, and my parents are arguing." The Joker looked solemn as he stared deeply into my eyes, as if asking for sympathy. "My father is yelling, de-mand-ing where I was. I told him I was studying with a, ah, a friend. 'Studying for school?' he says. 'Son, you shouldn't be wasting your time. You should get-ah a job. Don't you real-ize that we're on the edge of being poor.' He had told me this many times before, and I hate being blamed for something I didn't do."

The Joker shifted slightly, playing with his mouth for a few seconds. I was mesmerized by how he told it, altering his voice with different accents in the correct places, like the story was true. "I stood up to, ah, to him and told him that he was the reason we were losing money. He didn't like that. Not. One. Bit. So, he grabs a kitchen knife. Mommy tries to, ah, to stop him. She's not strong enough, not strong enough to survive his anger." The Joker paused for a moment as he licked his lips, his eyes sorrowful, but the emotion passed quickly. "I try to, ah, to defend myself, but my father, he's far gone. He sticks the blade in my mouth and tells me, 'Son, you're in way over your head. I don't like your atti-tude; it's too seri-ous. Tell me, son, why so seri-ous?"

The Joker jerked his knife toward my mouth, and I closed my eyes in a flinch, expecting him to do it to me. I could hear his accelerated breathing with excitement and possibly the instinct to hurt, to kill. His body tensed against mine, ready to spring, and my heart pounded, pumping fear and adrenaline through my veins.

Then, the Joker's other hand released my hair and caressed my cheek tenderly. I opened my eyes slowly and noticed for the first time that the Joker's eyes weren't black like the mascara around them. They were a gentle brown, orbs that held a swirl of emotions deep inside, like they reflected the inner side of him.

I was distracted by his brown eyes, unable to comprehend what he was doing until he had leaned in and pressed his scarred lips to mine.

The rough tissue against my cheeks tore my attention away from his eyes, and I struggled, jerking my head away. The Joker looked angered by my resistance, but then he laughed a moment later.

"I don't know what-ah came over me!" he exclaimed, loudly.

I growled as I struggled, trying to free my head from his tight grip.

"Keep struggling, Tiger, it's doing wonders," he giggled.

I stopped as I remembered exactly where my handcuffed hands were. "You're sick," I spat.

The Joker shook as he laughed hysterically for several moments. I tried pushing him off me with my arms, but he still held my head, anchoring himself. The Joker wiped his eyes with his thumb, still giggling. "Oh ho, such a, ah, a witty remark. You make me laugh, Tiger." He inhaled sharply, regaining his composure. "I just might-ah keep you around."

He grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. "And that's why I'd like to, ah, to recruit you, Tiger."

"What?" I shouted, staggered.

The Joker slapped a gloved hand over my mouth, shushing me. "No need to, ah, to yell, Tiger. I'm right-ah here."

"You can't be serious?" I exclaimed as he removed his hand.

"Weren't you, ah, listening to my story?" the Joker demanded, faking an injured tone. "I've learned to, ah, to smile a great deal more and boy, does it make life brighter! You shouldn't be so seri-ous. Lighten up!"

"All this work; kidnapping me, hurting me, chasing me…just to recruit me?" I couldn't believe it. The Joker had to be kidding; he had to be playing some stupid joke.

"Yeah," the Joker said matter-of-factly. "You see, Tiger, I've never worked with a, ah, a woman before. When I first saw you, I just had this…" The Joker gestured with a hand in the air, his face scrunched up, trying to find the correct word. "…this idea popped into my head. Why not take the aver-age woman and bring her down to, ah, to my level? Get myself a, ah, a sidekick."

"You think I'm an average woman?" I said, raising an eyebrow. I let out a mocking laugh. "Turns out that your plan didn't work out in the end."

The Joker smirked. "I don't plan things, Tiger. I'm not a schem-er. I'm a dog chasing cars with only the thought of, ah, of catching it. I don't think ah-head; I just-ah 'go with the flow', as some people would say." He took a strand of my hair and twirled around his finger. "And besides, I did say 'idea', not-ah 'plan'."

I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, exhaling loudly. A headache was starting behind my eyes, building up gradually. "I'm sorry, Joker, but I'm not interested," I said.

"Oh no, 'Joker' isn't going to, ah, to cut it, Tiger. Call me Mister J."

I opened my eyes. "It doesn't matter what your name is! I'm. Not. Interested."

"Why not?" the Joker demanded, furiously.

I flinched, feeling scared, but I braced myself. "Because there's a thing about you that I don't think I can deal with." The Joker narrowed his eyes, still livid. "You kill your henchmen if they do something wrong, or even if they question you, or when you just feel like simply killing someone. I'm still young, I have many years ahead of me; I'd prefer to live."

He turned his head slightly, giving me a sidelook. "Is that what-ah you're worried about, Tiger?" I nodded. "Even if you wanted to, ah, to die, you'd have come to, ah, to the wrong guy." I blinked in surprise. "I don't want to kill you, Tiger. Every villain, every dog needs a shadow."

My breath caught in my throat. I didn't move, my entire body freezing up. Did he know my criminal identity? I didn't have an ID card for my criminal identity – no one would! Or he meant something else by 'shadow'.

"I just-ah re-mem-bered," the Joker exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I don't-ah even know your name."

"Just look on the IDs," I told him, darkly. "Pick out your favorite one."

The Joker chuckled. "I'll give you a name then. How 'bout Sweetheart?"

"No," I growled.

"Princess?"

"No."

"Dar-ling?"

"Ab-sol-ute-ly not!" I exclaimed.

"Then give me something, if you don't want-ah me to pick one!" the Joker yelled, though his expression didn't show that he was angry.

"We can stick with 'Tiger'," I told him.

"Fine," the Joker said, gesturing dismissively with his hands. "Listen, Tiger. If you're so, ah, so worried about me kill-ing you, let me tell you that I'm not-ah gonna kill you. You're too amus-ing. Too. Much. Fun."

"So what about when you get bored?" I asked. It was a good question – from my perspective since I was the topic of the conversation - but the Joker gave me a look like I had said something incredibly stupid.

"I don't-ah think I will. When I grow bored of Batman, I'll let you know, but know this, that I want you as, ah, as my shadow." The Joker climbed off me slowly and went over to the flipped table, setting it on its legs. He retrieved his forgotten glove, slipping it easily on his bruised hand. "And I've decided," he continued, moving toward the table, placing his hands flat on its surface. He leaned forward so that he loomed over me. "That I wouldn't-ah kill you…until I've told you my name."

I blinked, my mind slowly registering what he had said. My jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding!"

"No, sweetheart," the Joker said in a rather charming voice. "I'm not-ah." His grin widened, his lean frame becoming sinister as he pushed back from the table.

Fear crept through me, along with exhaustion, and when someone is tired, they can be either easily frightened or too slow to register fear. I happen to be someone who, when tired, can be easily scared. "Why?" I asked in a barely audible whisper.

The Joker looked so scary, so menacing as he stared at me from underneath his brow with a wide, sinister grin. "So," he began in his low husky voice, sliding his tongue over his bottom lip, "You'll know exactly who killed you…and so you'll have something to, ah, to scream." He continued to stare at me for a few more moments, watching my intensifying fear grow on my face.

It scared me even more when the Joker burst out laughing hysterically, his laughter rapidly altering in pitch and volume. He was laughing so hard that he had to step away from me.

The Joker doubled over, his hands on his knees to keep him from falling over. He could hardly breathe without letting out more hysterical laughter. If I wasn't so scared of the Joker at that moment, I would've started laughing at how funny he looked, but I was simply too terrified.

His laughter went on for several moments, but I felt like it wasn't going to stop, like he was going to die laughing.

"Oh," he said between giggles as he struggled to regain control, "Oh, you…just…kill me…" He let out another peal of laughter and then took a deep intake of breath, composing himself. The Joker straightened his jacket as he looked over at me.

"How 'bout I let you think ah-bout it, huh?" the Joker said. "Too much to, ah, to think about and come up with an ans-wer right ah-way." He waved at me with a wide grin on his face, one that wasn't as menacing as the one he had seconds ago, and he turned to leave the room.

"Wait," I said abruptly. I hadn't expected the Joker to stop and turn back, but he did, cocking his head to the side with curious patience. "I…um, can I have a pack of cards?"

The Joker blinked, confused. "Odd-ah re-quest for a woman," he remarked. "Why?"

I forced a small smile on my face, still trying to recover from my fear. "Cards…they're one of my failings. I have to keep my hands busy sometimes, in particular when I'm thinking, brooding." Then, feeling a bit more confident, I gave him a sly look. "Unless you want me to busy my hands with escaping again."

The Joker stared at me for a moment before laughing. "As long as you promise not-ah to escape until you've made up your mind." I nodded.

He reached into his pant pocket, pulling out a pack of cards. He tossed it onto the table, and I took it, pulling the cards out. I started shuffling them, watching as I performed cuts and fake cuts. I took a deep breath, trying to suffocate my fear so that I could have a clear head. When I looked up after a few minutes, the Joker was still standing there.

"Do you want a magic trick or something?" I asked, eying him curiously.

"Do you?" he asked, eying me back. He lifted his hand and flipped it around a bit. Then, he snapped it out to the side and brought it back with something between his fingers. It was like he was performing a magic trick to make a coin appear out of thin air. From where I was sitting, it looked like a small picture, small enough to be an ID one.

"Wanna guess what-ah it is?" he asked me.

"A picture."

"Of what -ah?" His grin appeared, and his eyes lit with amusement.

Was he making fun of me? "Me?"

"Nope," the Joker said, breathlessly. He outstretched it toward me, and I could make out a face, one that I could recognize anywhere if I saw it. Before I could open my mouth in protest, the Joker said, "You see it" – he slid his other hand over it, and it was gone – "Now you don't-ah." He giggled excitedly and swept out the door, closing and locking it behind him.

Lordlink13: Thank you so much, Sin. After Mister J found out about my planning, he took away the laptop for a week. You guys are just lucky that I had written this chapter and last chapter at the same time, or you wouldn't be getting this chapter. I'll steal your cat again, Sin, if you don't behave. So, anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I didn't leave you with that bad of a cliffhanger. Last chapter was just evil, but the Joker liked that; only because he had the laptop to read the next chapter when I wasn't home and protecting my flashdrive. So don't forget to leave reviews! I really enjoy reading them.