Stepping out of the car and into the humidity of the morning, old LA had the distinct smell of wet and forgotten laundry. The building that stood in front of us was of a similar caliber. With its boarded up windows and rusted exterior, it would have been a fitting background for some Hollywood post-apocalyptic film. Besides the few cars passing by, the street was free from pedestrians.

"This place is a lot older than most of the buildings in this district…" Garfield noted, as we studied its façade. "I think it survived that great fire… you know, that famous one in the 1900's… Anyways, I'm surprised they haven't knocked it down yet… Maybe they can't… This place is a fortress!"

I nodded as I feigned interest, carefully monitoring the streets for the black van that had vanished around a street corner as we had parked. Whoever they were, I knew they wouldn't be too far behind us.

"So, how are we getting in?" I asked, inspecting the entrance. Thick pieces of plywood covered all of the possible entry ways. Ripping them down was not the best option in broad daylight.

"Around the back" he said, motioning me to follow him through an empty parking lot hugging the side of the building. Hesitating at first, I eventually followed. He couldn't be trusted, but I was desperate for answers.

"So.. you do this for fun?" I asked, breaking the silence as we walked. He smirked, looking back at me briefly before taking out some small pieces of metal as we approached the rusted back door.

"It's… one of my many hobbies," he said with a grunt, pushing two pieces of metal methodically into the keyhole. The door burst open with a hard push and he stumbled in. I followed in after him.

It was unnaturally dark and eerily quiet. I took out my phone, shining the flashlight around me. I surveyed a long corridor, doors flanked each side, most of which were already opened. This must have been the basement of the old post office. Discarded papers stirred as rodents scurried around in the darkness.

"For fun, huh?"

"You find some interesting things in the dark…" he said mysteriously.

"Well, let's find that PO box and get out of here… I'm getting weird vibes", I said, walking cautiously down the hallway.

Every bone in my body was against this. We were already being followed. But my fear had been overcome with adrenaline, as my desires drove me. I was so close to finding my mother's diary… I wanted nothing more than to hold it and feel the remnants of her energy, relish in the way she wrote and thought.

We walked down the hallway toward the last set of doors leading to a stairwell. Ascending slowly, I did my best not to look behind me.

Perhaps it was him , I thought, maybe he had followed me here… But nothing was there, I had to remind myself, he was never truly there… only in the darkness of my mind.

Garfield's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"The mailboxes are in the front of the building. I just hope I'm right about this being the place." he said, taking the lead with his own cell phone as he ascended the stairs.

"Me too…" I responded softly.

As we reached the main level of the post office, I could tell from the far off echoes of our footsteps that we had entered a very large foyer. My cellphone light only illuminated a few feet ahead of us, but it gave me enough of an ability to navigate towards the front of the building.

After a few moments of searching, we found hundreds of rusted, metallic looking mailboxes lining the building's entrance. My heart pounded as we approached them. There were in fact three numbers labeled on each of the metal boxes.

"I'll check the left, you can check the right," Garfield said matter of fact-ly.

"Sure thing, boss," I said, trying my best to lift some heaviness from the atmosphere.

He let out a small chuckle as he used the phone light to skim the mailboxes. I did the same.

"951… 775… 653…" I was saying aloud, "all these numbers are odd. How about yours?"

I turned to look towards Garfield who was fidgeting with something on the wall. My stomach lurched.

"Gar…"

I heard a single small click.

"... I'm in!"

Walking briskly towards him, I peered over his shoulder. There it was. He had found PO Box 444.

"The honor is yours, mademoiselle…" he said, stepping away from his handiwork. Fear and excitement swept over me. Every beat of my heart seemed to dig itself deeper into my chest.

"Thank you…" I said softly, truly grateful for this chance encounter. Without Garfield, I would have been stuck in Santa Monica, searching in all the wrong places.

I took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever I was about to find. There was a prolonged silence as I reached for the handle. It turned with a little pressure and I was able to pull out the drawer. Shakily reaching inside, I felt a cloth covered object. Carefully removing it and partially unwrapping the cloth that had been protecting it, I finally laid eyes on it. There it was, my mother's journal.

All at once a sigh of relief swept over me. I did it... I found it. I made it to California and I had actually found the diary…My visions had been real…my mother had spoken to me. I did my best to hide my tears as I examined the cover.

It was a simple leather bound journal, very worn. Touching the cover carefully with my free hand, it was quite smooth. And as I had been expecting, a flash of memories swept through me.

Letting out a muffled cry, I quickly dropped the journal. My excitement had quickly turned to panic.

My mother's emotions were overpowering, saturated with fear, grief, desperation… That journal had been kept secret for a reason. But now the story inside it was awake, and taking its first breath in decades.

I heard my mother's screams… Something was there with her in the darkness, stalking after her. It was a heavy energy, pulling me to the floor. I had never felt anything quite like it.

"Lori!" Garfield yelled, "are you ok? Is there something sharp on it? Is there a bug?"

The sound of the book hitting the ground had echoed throughout the room, but I hadn't heard it.

"Sorry", I said, doing my best to collect myself. "It was like a weird static shock… it just spooked me, that's all. Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out." I said, clambering for the cloth and re-wrapping the journal.

"Let's get out of here" I said, beginning to feel pings of nausea as the shock of the memories wore off and reality was setting in. I needed a quiet space to process this. Regrettably, I had been too eager to realize I had not been prepared for what I may find.

Walking briskly ahead of Gar towards the stairs, I stopped abruptly. Light streamed in below us as the basement doors opened. We could hear sets of footsteps walking down the basement hallway. I took a few steps backwards into the foyer, cursing under my breath.

. . . . . . . .

Walking under multiple lines of yellow tape and police barricades, John found the crime scene to be more disturbing than he had anticipated. That was his first mistake. Never underestimate the Joker.

Right outside the courthouse were a dozen or so rotting corpses. Sloppily doused with a line of red paint, the bodies created the outline of a giant, red smile.

John spotted commissioner Gordon immediately, who was talking quietly to a forensic scientist s kneeling over one of the many bodies.

"Commissioner" John greeted, clearing his throat.

"John… Thank you for coming."

"What have we got so far?"

"Well, as you can probably tell from the smell, these bodies aren't fresh. They were dug up from the city's cemetery early this morning… We don't have exact IDs on all of them just yet, but it's safe to say that most of these bodies are victims from the fire at the Italian American Club."

John looked at the mess around them. Thankfully, barricades were set up to dissuade reporters from catching a glimpse, but videos from early morning onlookers had already leaked. The news was spreading like wildfire. The Joker had returned.

"So what is this? A publicity stunt?"

John couldn't help to think about the conversation he just had with Bruce.

"The Joker usually follows these up with some kind of mass announcement," the commissioner responded, "I wouldn't be surprised if we were to find his calling card somewhere in this mess."

On cue, another member of the forensics team called them over to the other side of the corpse smile.

John and Gordon jogged over just in time to see the man tweeze something out the slashed cheek of a victim.

"Sir, these injuries are post-mortem. It looks like some kind of-"

"-Flash Drive '' the Commissioner finished, snatching the device from the metal plyers.

So much for the careful handling of evidence , John thought.

Before John could get a word in, Gordon was pulling him into a police van to inspect the contents of the flash drive.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Light danced around the interior of the stairwell as footsteps ascended towards us.

"Shit… not good," Garfield said with panic in his voice. Either he was a great actor, or he had not been expecting company.

I took another few steps backwards into the darkness, walking straight into Garfield. I inhaled sharply as he grabbed onto my shoulder to steady me. The instant my bare skin touched his, a jolt of energy shot between us and my insight was in full force.

Suddenly, I knew everything.

This wasn't just some young beach bum, this was Beast Boy… a member of the West Coast Titans. A superhero with superhuman powers.

I instantly sensed his regret. I saw straight through his lies. He knew who I was, he knew why I was here. Our meeting hadn't been a coincidence… It was all part of a larger plan.

Before I could control myself I pushed him away.

"You fucking liar!" I screamed.

He tried to hush me as footsteps ran towards us, flashlights pointing in our direction.

My head was spinning with new information. Garfield was able to morph into different animals based upon chemical changes in his DNA.

"I'm sorry Lucy… I can explain this… I promise, I'm here to help!"

I felt myself become overpowered by his energy… a feeling only comparable to when I last touched the Joker. Except this time it was all rage. Raw and primal rage.

"Get away from me!" I screamed, digging my fingers deep into the skin of my arms. I couldn't control this sudden urge to rip off my skin and lunge at him… feelings I could only attribute to his own morphing experiences.

"I'm so sorry, Lucy… lets just get out of this mess and we can talk this through-"

Lights flashed on both of our forms as a team of men surrounded us. There were four men dressed in protective armor.

"Hands on the ground!" one of them ordered.

I could hear deep growls echoing around the foyer. Between waves of pain and nausea, a green blur swept past me.

The group began firing at Garfield, who had now transformed into a massive green tiger. Evading bullets with great agility, he sank his teeth into the shoulder of one man, hurling him into two others.

The gloved hand of the fourth man wrapped itself around my neck and yanked me towards him. Failing around wildly with adrenaline, I was able to yank myself free, landing a kick to his groin. As I stumbled towards the staircase, he managed a few shots at me.

"Fuck" I mumbled, grabbing tightly onto my shoulder, realizing it was now hot with blood. With great effort, I made my way down the staircase and towards the daylight streaming in from the entrance to the basement. Each step was becoming harder to take.

I heard more shots ring out from above me, followed by a prolonged silence as I reached the back door. I wasn't sure what my plan was going to be once I reached the street, but as it would turn out, I didn't need one.

I could hear Garfield's voice mumbling something from behind me as he lifted me into his arms. I did my best to scream and kick my way out of his grip as he carried me towards his car, but Garfield was much stronger than he looked, and I had already lost a lot of blood.

Opening the passenger side doors, he tucked me quickly into the front seat, pulling open the glove compartment. I let out an uncontrollable scream as I felt a tourniquet tighten around the gaping wound in my shoulder. The last thing I remembered before passing from the debilitating pain was Garfield profusely apologizing as he floored the car down the old city boulevard.