I slept deeply and dreamless as my body took all of its strength to recover. When I finally awoke, there were orange rays of sunlight streaming into the room.

It was Christmas Morning.

I sat up slowly. The bullet must have been causing a mean infection, because now that it had been removed, the pain was much duller than before. The real issue now was the hangover I was going to have. I definitely drank more than enough whiskey to put me to sleep.

Thankfully I looked over to the bedside table and spotted a bottle of aspirin, a water bottle and a few power bars. I couldn't believe it.

Why was he being so thoughtful?

I gulped down a handful of aspirin and the entire bottle of water. My whole body instantly thanked me. It was like coming up for air. After taking a few bites of a peanut butter protein bar, I glanced around the room. I noticed a tuft of fabric where the bandages and whiskey had been.

After finishing the bar, I wrapped the bloodied bed sheets around my body to ward off the cold. Walking over to the table, I picked up the material. It was a shimmering, intricately detailed ballgown, with long, green velvet sleeves and a golden and green puffed skirt. Very retro, very gaudy, very Gotham.

"The shower's across the hall" a voice called from behind me.

I let out a gasp and dropped the gown, turning to see the Joker resting against the side of the door frame. He was dressed in his normal getup with a fresh layer of black, white and red face paint. I forgot how frightening he could look.

"You're a bit jumpy, doll. Is it the scars?"

"No… No. You just… surprised me," I managed.

I was avoiding his gaze like the plague. Something had developed between us since last night. A different kind of intimacy.

"Why are you helping me?" I whispered.

"Because you always come when I call…" he whispered back.

He made his way from the doorway to my side, placing a hand on the dress.

"What do you think? I was going for… theatrical…"

I let out a laugh, which was something I don't remember doing for quite some time.

"In that case, it's perfect."

. . . . . . .

Tony Demois was reclining in a worn out lounge chair toward the back of an empty cafe. He left his espresso untouched as he sifted through his ex-girlfriend's old diary. It brought back so many memories.

Tony wasn't surprised about having offspring. He had been rash and tactless back then. Thankfully not tactless enough to land him in jail. The charges of manslaughter had been dropped on account of insufficient evidence. The smiley-faced killer remained an unsolved who-done-it case still broadcasting on all the major crime networks. He prided himself on his ability to manipulate the law while he had been practicing it back then.

However, the cops hadn't left him alone, and he didn't appreciate their constant surveillance. Especially after Maria's disappearance, they always found reasons to come around and check up on him. He had to be a good boy back then. Just for a while.

Eventually, he made his way across the country and back to his roots in Brooklyn. Back to where his "family" started off in their shit hole apartment.

He established a new identity, switching from lawyer to doctor. While working at various hospitals, he took up side jobs as a surgeon-for-hire, hitman, tracker…. Whatever was needed. He missed the old times in Cali. He missed the thrills of the hunt and kill.

Eventually, he relocated to Gotham, the biggest city of unsolved crime and villainy. There, he had more clients, more protection and a limitless amount of work. But he didn't leave Brooklyn quietly. In fact, his families' old apartment had been one of the messiest crime scenes the NYPD had ever stumbled upon. Caked with blood but clean of evidence. He was a professional killer now.

And so, there he was, sitting in a cafe miles away from the only family he had left alive. A daughter he had never known. Lucille.

Finally taking a sip of his cold espresso, he wondered about his daughter's temperament. Did she emanate her mother's innocent naivety, or was she just as cunning and blood thirsty as her father?

After placing his empty cup back on the table, he pulled a gold ballpoint pen from his suit pocket and opened the diary to the first page.

The hunt was a game to him, and he would approach his newest curiosity from all directions.

. . . . . . .

Jim Gordon had quit smoking about a year ago. He was currently trying to avoid the cloud of smoke drifting towards him from the herd of cops who were taking their breaks around the perimeter of Gotham Commons. It was bitterly cold and he wished he could have been home with Barbara and the kids for Christmas Day. Glancing at his cellphone, it was just about quarter to 10.

The traditional route of the Christmas Parade led straight down the main strip of the financial district and into the Gotham Commons. The floats, musicians, dancers and actors would gather on stage, where a symphony would conduct traditional Christmas carols.

The commons was usually filled with a variety of vendors selling trinkets, hot drinks and freshly baked goods. But not this year. This year, the commons were less crowded and under strict police surveillance. Anyone entering the gated area would be searched and questioned. It was a far cry from what the festival had been years passed. And to top it all off, a Nor'easter was expected to roll in later that day. As bits of sunlight escaped the cloud cover and illuminated the snow covered grounds, Gordon took it as a calm before the storm.

However, the crowds outside the commons were still in strong numbers. Citizens flooded the streets of the parade route and lined up to be searched upon entry into the park. Despite the constant terrorist threats, robberies, shootings, bombings and everything in between, the people of Gotham rose to the occasion. Their courage and perseverance were some of the many factors that kept the Commissioner going. The city held itself together, it never gave up, and so, neither did he. Batman or no Batman.

His cell phone only had to buzz once for him to answer. He knew who it was.

"You ready to get your feet wet, Blake?"

He was relieved to finally hear back from John. Since Lucy had left for California, he'd been out of touch. Jim knew what heartbreak looked like, and how it could feel.

John chuckled on the other end of the line.

"Yeah… something like that. Any leads from that video?"

"Nothing. We couldn't pinpoint the location of the video and the DNA we took from the deceased hostage wasn't found in our system. Probably an innocent bystander…"

"What about today's security?"

"Parade workers were searched this morning and checked for criminal history. They're clean."

John sighed over the phone and Gordon caught himself staring at one of his men taking a long drag from a cigarette.

"You sure you don't want to come down to the commons?" Gordon continued, "It would be nice having another non-smoker around here…"

"I'm going to check up on a few things, but I'll be there."

The call ended before Gordon got a chance to ask about Lucy.

John looked over at Dick and Gar who were now in full vigilante attire.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Dick asked, staring into the glass case that still housed Nightwing's suit.

After John finished adjusting his utility belt, he reached into another case for the finishing touch. Pulling the mask over his eyes, he stared back at his new partners, not as Nightwing, but as Batman.

"Yeah. I'm positive."

. . . . . . . .

The water pressure in the dilapidated shower was decent. I had not showered since my bath at Bruce's flat. It felt nice to wash off all the grime of the past 24 hours. I did my best to avoid wetting my new bandages.

At first, it was hard for me to unpack what had just happened. I felt numb to the fact that I was about to be a part of something sinister. The dreams I had in California about the Joker had been warnings. I didn't need my insight to know that today wouldn't end well... But I was doing it anyway. Why did I come to him when he called for me? Had I sealed my fate because of a morbid curiosity to see him again? Was this truly all for my mother's necklace?

At the sink were a bunch of unopened cosmetics, most likely stolen. I dried off and began to prepare myself for whatever was planned for today. I hadn't pushed the Joker on the subject. I wasn't sure I wanted to know. My hands were shaking as I applied my eye liner. I realized that this was the first time I had actually felt scared.

After dressing, I stepped out into the hallway. Walking slowly towards the main room with bare feet, creaking floorboards alerted his clowns to my presence. One of them gave a long whistle behind his mask, which made a few of the others chuckle.

I made sure to stay relatively emotionless as I looked around at them. I figured it was my death stare that silenced them, but then I felt an arm wrap around my waist and pull me close.

"Now that my date is here, boys, let's head out" the Joker announced. The clowns nodded and quickly got to work, packing up the guns and ammo they were taking with them.

I looked up at him.

"Where are we going?"

He turned me towards him, his eyes piercing mine.

"Luce. You gotta trust me. Do you trust me?"

I wished I could have used my insight.

Looking into his dark eyes hypnotized me. I forgot who I was and what was happening as I was pulled into their endless abyss. Seeing no other option, I slowly nodded my head.

"That's my girl," he said, putting a gloved hand to my face. He was looking at my polished appearance, taking it all in, pulling me closer. He kissed me hard, grimacing as he slowly moved his hand to wrap around my throat.

The kiss pierced me with fire and ice. It was emotionless yet passionate, forceful yet inevitable. He wanted me to know what was about to happen after all. All of it. That bastard.

My eyes widened as I tried to fight him off, but that only made him squeeze tighter. He shushed me as he took out a needle from his pocket, removing the protective cap with his teeth and spitting it out.

"Today you're going to be my porcelain doll, Luce. Just play the part. Trust me, Luce, and you'll have earned your necklace back…"

He stuck the needle into my neck and after a few seconds everything went black. The last thing I remember was falling into his arms.

. . . . . .

The sun had finally disappeared and the wind was picking up. Gathered on a makeshift stage underneath the cities' Christmas Tree were the Mayor, the Commissioner and a handful of other city officials. Since the 80's, Gotham had consistently held the record for the tallest Christmas tree in the nation. Thousands of donated decorations from all over the city hung on the tree, creating a symbolic homage to the unity of the people of Gotham.

Meanwhile, John, Dick and Gar were posted up on the roof of a nearby building, surveying the park.

"The last time I was waiting for the Joker to make his move, we lost half the city's police force to landmines…" John said, looking through his binoculars.

"There's three of us. That's more than enough to take him on," responded Dick.

John was getting sick of this kid's unrealistic optimism. Dick had no idea who nor what he was dealing with. This west coast wannabe had never faced off with the devil himself. He didn't have a clue about Gotham. He was young, naive and way out of his jurisdiction, regardless of what Bruce had said. They weren't his partners, John decided, he was merely babysitting.

John kept his opinions to himself as the Christmas Day Parade slowly made its way towards the commons.