Obligatory beginning of story disclaimer time!! This is a story featuring Jared Leto's Joker. I know a lot of people hate his version of Joker, so if you wanna change it to Heath, you can! It's not too important to the story. Also, I haven't really seen many other DC projects aside from Suicide Squad. So, please forgive any inconsistencies to the DC universe. I more view this book as a creative project where I express my own thoughts on Joker, his crimes, etc. rather than an extension to the DC universe. Finally, this story will contain cussing and violence, and I'll add other trigger warnings if/when triggering topics come up. Anyway, that's it! Happy reading!!

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You pushed through the crowded club, the limited space making you feel rather uncomfortable. You could smell everyone's sweat, feel everyone's body heat, and almost taste the various cigarettes and cigars that people were smoking as they danced. Clubs weren't necessarily a no go for you; you could party with the best of them. But, it started to get a little sketchy when there was no room to simply exist, let alone dance.

   A random man approached you, said something probably flirty, and offered you a shot. Figuring you needed it to survive this swarm of people as well as the interaction that would follow, you took it and tossed it all back. Without saying anything, you handed the glass back to the man and continued on, searching for a certain green-haired villain.

   You couldn't believe that you had actually managed to secure a meeting with the Joker. He wasn't exactly the most responsive guy on the planet; he was busy. He had lots of things to do and lots of trouble to make. Plus, your reputation was not impressive to any villain, let alone Joker. Most villains would decline wasting their time with you in a heartbeat. It seemed like a no-brainer, since, in their eyes, at least, you had little to offer.

   You had been working hard at being a criminal the past few months. You had gotten away with some heists, mugged a few folks, and even started to openly cause unnecessary damage to buildings in Gotham City, just so you could be chased by the cops and be put on the news. But, sadly, with more prominent villains running amuck in Gotham, you were the last of anyone's priorities.

   But, crime was something you were serious about. You wanted people to fear you, to start to take you serious. To view you as something other than a wannabe supervillain.

   And, to do that, you knew you had to enlist the help of someone with a bigger name. And you figured that, just for shits and giggles, you'd start with the biggest.

   You had asked some other low-level villains if anyone had any contact with Joker's goons, hoping that they would pass the message to him. Eventually, you knew someone that knew someone that did. So, you obtained one of Joker's grunts' phone numbers.

   And that phone number belonged to Frost.

   It was a wonder that he even picked up; you hadn't been expecting any response at all. And, surprisingly, he recognized your name from the limited number of reports on you. You made your case, and promised him that you'd be of great service to Joker, as long as he let you piggyback off his name for a while to get you some more clout.

   Frost, though unconvinced that Joker would agree, promised that he would pitch the idea to him.

   A few weeks had gone by when Frost finally got back to you, saying that Joker had not fully agreed to the deal, but agreed to meet with you and discuss it further.

   Overjoyed, you took that as a win, and arrived where you were told and when you were told to.

   That's what brought you here, pushing through the crowd at Joker's club. The more you searched for him, the more anxious you became. Joker wasn't exactly known as being the sanest person, so you were worried that one wrong word would result in a bullet between the eyes. But, you didn't want to appear weak, especially since if all went well, you'd be joining his crew. He wouldn't want someone who was soft and pitiful. You held your head up high and began to breathe deeply, a futile attempt at calming yourself down as you kept looking.

Finally, there was a sudden break in the crowd; almost like everyone was keeping their distance from something. As you pushed through the last few people, you saw why:

Joker was sitting at a table, an empty chair across from him. Some of his goons, including Frost, were standing around him, and a bald man with a lot of tattoos was sprawled on the floor with blood scattered around him, presumably dead.

Joker had obviously been the one to cause this, and it didn't take a genius to figure that out. You felt a lump form in your throat; that could be you if you said one wrong thing during this interaction.

Maybe Joker wasn't the villain you needed. Maybe you needed a more humble start. Yes, a start with a villain with some semblance of a conscience left. You began to realize that diving headfirst into Joker's world of insanity may not have been the best idea.

In a moment of weakness, you started to turn and walk off, but as you did, his eyes met yours.

Shit. Now, you couldn't walk off, and you knew it. If you did, he'd stop you, and perhaps kill you for wasting his time without even following through with your meeting.

So, you had no choice but to approach the table.

His eyes watched you as you did, his expression unreadable.

You could feel the awkward and absolutely bone-chilling tension weigh on you already, so you awkwardly stuck your hand out for him to shake before you sat down. "Hey, J. Great to meet you."

"He don't shake hands!" Frost quickly interjected, his voice almost fearful as Joker stared you down.

Gasping quietly at the notion of offending the psychopath before you, you quickly retracted your hand, disguising your disrespect by attempting to act busy with it; brushing off your shirt, playing with your hair... Anything to secure a second chance when you may have already blown your first.

    As you sat down, and as Joker kept giving you the silent treatment, you could feel your hands begin to shake. You clasped them together, refusing to look nervous. You were not the type to be easily rattled, and you did not want Joker to be under that impression.

   "My apologies," you managed to say, your voice quaking a bit. "I didn't mean to offend you."

   He sized you up, eyes roaming up and down your body. You couldn't breathe; his lack of a response was so terrifying that, at this point, you didn't care if you were able to enlist his help or not. Now, you just cared about getting out alive.

   Then, he smiled, which caused you to breathe a huge sigh of relief.

   "Don't be scared, doll," he said with a chuckle. Even though your fear in him was obvious, it still hurt your ego a little that he could see through your poorly constructed facade.

   "I'm not scared," you replied, hoping that you were a good liar. "Just hoping that you'll see my potential, I guess."

   "Oh, I definitely see some potential in you." He looked away from you and at his dancers, whom he had hired to entertain his club's guests. They were all in a gold cage, sleazy spectators slipping twenties to them through it. "Even if you're not suited for crime," he continued, "we could find some use for you in there."

   You followed his gaze, and blushed when you saw what was occurring in the cage. "Unfortunately, I'm not interested in that."

   "What a shame." He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and continuing to size you up. "So, pitch yourself to me, sweetheart. Why should I let you into the group of my...chosen few?"

   Here came the part you had been dreading: the asking of reasonable questions that would expose your lackluster resume of crimes. "Well," you began, feeling your body begin to heat up nervously, "I've done a few heists, some muggings, defaced public property a few times. And I haven't had an unsuccessful mission yet."

Joker was looking at you, evidently expecting you to say more. But, in reality, there was no more. That was all you had done. Those puny little crimes were all you had to show for yourself.

You began to feel foolish; who were you to present your lackluster resume to the literal Prince of crime? The man who had murdered several, robbed high-security facilities time and time again, and trafficked about every illegal substance possible? The man who could break out of an asylum with ease? The man whose thirst for crime was never quenched?

When you failed to keep talking, Joker began to laugh. That mocking, insane laugh that everyone knew, and everyone feared. But, it made you more annoyed than anything. Looking like an idiot was not what you had hoped for today, but as Gotham's most notorious criminal was cackling in your face, you realized that looking like an idiot was unavoidable.

"You can't be serious," he got out through his laughter. "You're kidding! That's all ya got?"

"Yes," you mumbled, embarrassed. "But, that's why I need you. I need more experience under my belt. More clout, I guess." You looked him in the eyes with what appeared to be confidence, even though you were quaking inside. "I promise I can help you. I know how to use a gun, and I know how to avoid surveillance. I can do all of what they do and more." You gestured to Joker's grunts, who looked offended at the assertion, but stayed quiet. "I know my stuff, even if I don't have as much experience as you. So, what have you got to lose?"

Joker grinned sadistically at you. "You need me, but I don't need you. To answer your question, doll, I've got a lot to lose. You can talk yourself up all ya want, but that doesn't tell me how you actually perform when it all comes down to it. You could choke."

He began to chuckle, standing up and beginning to circle the table. You resisted the urge to squeeze your eyes shut in fear, keeping them straight ahead as your heart hammered in your chest. He was certainly an intimidating bastard, and that was the kind of intimidation you wanted to be able to execute. While terrifying, this interaction only made you want his help more; without a big reputation, who would be intimidated by you?

"And, of course, no one can really attest to how you perform, since you have basically no experience!" He seemed to find this whole situation terribly amusing, for he kept laughing.

"I've been on the news," you said back, getting a little defensive now. "A few times, actually. So, yes, someone can attest to how I perform. And I just said I haven't failed a mission yet, J. That doesn't sound like someone who chokes."

"You are adorable," Joker cooed, coming up behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders. His sudden, strong grip made you jump a little, only causing him to laugh more. "You are adorable if you think that your 'missions'—if you could even call them that—are of the same caliber as mine. Your success rate means nothing."

   "You may be right," you conceded, hoping that acknowledging his point's validity would win you some points. "But, I know that I could be a big help. Or not! You could just have me stand around and do nothing. J, as long as I'm a part of what you do, I'm content."

   He seemed to be considering this, since he was quiet for a few moments. He walked back to his chair, sitting down on it with another unreadable expression. "You'd be content with doing nothing?" he finally asked, voice unbelieving.

   "Yeah. But, again, I wouldn't recommend taking that path. If you let me try to help, I could be more useful than you'd think."

   He was silent again, eyeing you skeptically. Or checking you out. You weren't really sure, because God damn, his face didn't give away anything about what he was thinking. Though, that made sense. Criminals are liars, and liars shouldn't be transparent in their expressions.

   "You killed anyone yet?" Joker finally asked, folding his hands.

   You hadn't. If you had, you certainly would've included that in your repertoire of crimes. "No, I haven't," you admitted firmly, refusing to shy away from looking foolish.

   He chuckled. "That's a big part of this whole gig...what's your name again, doll?"

   You were a little annoyed that he couldn't be bothered to remember, but why would he? You weren't important to him, and you evidently weren't impressing him now. "(Y/N) (L/N)."

   "That's a big part of this whole gig, (Y/N). You think you can handle it?"

   "I know I can."

   "All that pretty talk, but no action to back it up." He sat in silence for a moment, then stood up. "I think we're done here. Beat it, sweetheart. I have much more important things to do than entertain your little hopes and dreams."

   This was it. He was gonna leave. You knew that in order to get him to think twice, you had to do something drastic.

   Like most criminals in Gotham, you were carrying a gun on you. A thought flitted into your mind, and as Joker began to walk away, his guards in tow, you realized you had no time to mull it over. So, you reached in your coat's pocket and pulled out your trusty gun.

   And with it, you shot one of Joker's lackeys in the leg.

   Instantly, all of his unharmed grunts, including Frost, were pouncing on you, attempting to restrain you. You let them, laughing as your gun was yanked from your hand by Frost. You watched as the wounded man writhed in pain on the floor, feeling quite prideful. You hadn't taken a step like that before, and it felt good. It didn't even scare you that it felt good; you had embraced your criminal urges for a long time.

   Joker turned and looked at you, shocked. A smile broke out across his face. "Bad aim," he remarked with a snicker. "You can't kill someone like that, sugar."

   "Killing him wasn't the goal," you replied with a smile back. "I wasn't sure if that particular guy was disposable to you or not, so I didn't wanna kill him without knowing. It was just to show you I'm more than capable of inflicting bodily harm, and I'll do it whenever you ask me to."

   He nodded, seemingly deep in thought. After a few moments, he commanded, "Let her go."

   His grunts did as they were told, and you could move your hands again.

   "And Frosty, give her that gun back. She's gonna need it if she's working for me," he added.

   Your heart leaped with excitement. Frost, evidently surprised, handed you your gun back. "So, you're taking me under your wing?" you asked.

   Joker approached you, playfully tapping your nose. "On one condition." He pointed to the gun and said with a smile, "Only if you can show me that you're a decent shot. For all I know, that 'I don't know if he's disposable' crap could be a well-crafted lie."

   You nodded confidently. This, you could do. Getting past your lack of experience was the hard part. Showing off your talents? That was easy. "I can do that."

   "Excellent. Follow me." And with that, Joker stood up and began to walk off. You and his grunts followed, leaving the wounded one on the floor to groan in pain. Hopefully he'd find his way home somehow. But, if he didn't, who cares? He was a means to your end, and based off the fact that Joker was leading you to an unknown place for target practice, you had reached that end.

   And that was all you cared about.