It was the next day, and you were waiting outside of The Last Laugh. It was 10:55 AM, and you knew that Two-Face's spy, whose name was Matt, would be there soon. It was your job to greet him, lead him inside, knock him out, and bring him to Joker and Frost, who were waiting in the abandoned club's VIP lounge. They would then supervise you as you tortured Matt, and ask whatever questions they felt necessary to ask.

Obviously, this was a mission that was greatly centered around you and your performance. The others had been more of a group effort, but with this one... You were doing everything. Joker was giving you full control, likely to better assess your skills with solo tasks. The notion of being on your own was definitely nerve-racking, and you couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, you'd fuck everything up.

You tried to reassure yourself that Matt was only one man. A man not expecting any type of violent advancements. This should be an easy mission, and a fun one, too! You wouldn't just kill a man, but you'd kill him creatively. You'd kill him sadistically. When people would hear about his death, they'd clap a hand to their mouths and gag. They'd whisper about you, how you deserved to be locked up. They'd start to say that maybe, just maybe, you were even crazier than Joker.

   But, none of these idealistic scenarios quieted the anxious voice in your head. The one that was warning you that everything would go wrong.

   You leaned your head against the siding of the club, heaving a heavy sigh. Fall was rapidly changing to winter; so much so that your sigh was visible, cutting through the frigid air and swirling up to the sky. The chill to the air was definitely inconvenient, given the fact that you were wearing a short dress. It had longer sleeves, thank God, but casual clothes were really a luxury at this point. While it was nice to look like a criminal, and to always be ready to stun whoever walked by, you were growing a little sick of permanently being cold.

   Today, though, you were grateful that you were. The sharpness of the low temperature gave you something else to think about. It didn't completely mute out your thoughts of failure, but it more so shared a spotlight with those thoughts. With the cold being so persistent, you couldn't devote all of your attention to your anxieties. And you definitely preferred balancing the thoughts of failure with something else, and not just focusing on that. You would've been driven more crazy than you already were, if that were to happen.

   A few minutes went by, and you saw a black van peel into The Last Laugh's parking lot with unnecessary aggression. You knew that nobody would show up to a closed club at 11:00 AM, so you knew that this was your spy. You straightened your posture, trying to put on a confident mask. You needed to be the (Y/N) the public knew, not the one that you actually were inside. That (Y/N) wouldn't get anywhere in life; the one the public knew definitely would.

   The van parked at an odd angle, taking up two spots instead of one. You couldn't help but chuckle a little. Sure, Matt was a criminal. But, didn't parking so poorly lead to a deduction of style points? Wouldn't it have been much cooler if he had just whipped into the parking lot and parked perfectly? Maybe you were being too critical, but that parking provided you with a little bit of comfort. Maybe this guy wouldn't be too intimidating, and you could knock him out no problem.

You watched as he clambered out of the van, and you hummed a little in interest. He didn't look anything like you thought he would. He was very short and scrawny, had a blond buzz cut, and wore thick, black glasses. He kind of looked like a more nerdy Eminem, with slightly softer features.

You could feel yourself relax a little. This guy didn't look like much, and you'd handled armed security guards at Gotham Bank with no issues a few weeks ago. Granted, you were protected by your outfit, but still. Matt would be unassuming and would not be prepared for combat.

You smiled, walking up to him with your hand extended. "Hey, Matt," you said pleasantly. "Glad you could make it. I'm (Y/N)."

He smiled in return, grabbing your hand and shaking it firmly. "I know who you are, (Y/N). It's great to meet you."

Even though Matt did not have good intentions, the fact that he knew you made you feel good. All that showed was that your dedication to your reputation was paying off.

"Likewise," you replied, letting go of his hand. You awkwardly gestured to the club. "Well, let's go in, shall we? J's waiting for you in there."

Matt nodded, appearing a little nervous. You latched onto that small bit of vulnerability, using it to ease your own. If he was nervous, you needn't be. Nervous people were the easiest to take down, and you knew that if your attitude didn't change, you would be the one taken down.

You walked up to the door and pulled it open, politely gesturing for him to walk in first. He did with a grateful nod, subsequently looking around at the deserted place. The dance floor, usually writhing with bodies, was bare, and the lights were bright and generally unappealing to clubbers. At night, those lights would dim, and people would be filling every corner of the place. Drinks would be flowing, vomit would splatter on the floor, and the bathrooms would be full of people snorting substances.

But now, it was calm and quiet. Except for Joker and Frost lurking in the VIP lounge, being concealed from Matt by that familiar beaded curtain.

You stepped into the club, letting your fate seal itself as the door closed behind you. You watched Matt take the place in, crossing your arms and surveying it in return. The silence was almost deafening, and you were very much wanting this mission to be over. But, in order for it to be over, you had to do your job.

"Where's J?" Matt inquired innocently, not even having an inkling that anything was amiss.

"You'll see him in a moment," you stated. Seeing that he was in a vulnerable, unassuming position, you decided to make your move. Now was as good a time as any, and you knew you needed to strike hard and strike fast.

   So, you swiftly punched him in the face.

   Matt stumbled back, very obviously stunned. You seized this opportunity to jump on top of him, knocking him to the floor. You didn't have any weaponry on you, so you began to punch at his face some more, hoping that he would eventually lose consciousness and allow for you to haul him to the VIP lounge.

   But, no matter how hard you punched him, he never passed out. His face got bloodier, the scene more gruesome, but his eyes remained wide and alert as the violence knocked his glasses off. They were filled with a mania that was comparable to Joker's, and that scared you. You needed to knock him out now. Otherwise, you'd be a goner.

   With a grunt, Matt pushed you off of him with surprising strength, causing you to fall to the floor on your back. You felt the wind get knocked out of you, your stomach heavy as the sudden impact jostled your organs. You groaned, scrambling to your feet and attempting to ignore the pain.

   Your heart dropped as you saw that Matt had pulled out a gun, aiming it right at you. You opened your mouth to scream for help, but, in a flash, he grabbed you and pulled you to him, covering your mouth with his palm. His other hand held the gun, pressing the cool metal against your temple. You felt tears well up on your eyes; you had a window, and you fucked it up. Now, not only would you fail the mission, but you could also fucking die.

   "I'm gonna ask you some questions," he muttered lowly. "If you even try to scream for help, you're fucking dead. Answer me quietly, and I'll let you live."

   You felt cowardice start to overcome your urge to destroy, your urge to please Joker. At the moment, you were your number one priority. You felt sick with yourself for that. You did not want to be a coward that trembled at the slightest sign of danger. But, that's what you were becoming. You knew that not every mission would be easy, yet here you were, giving in.

   You nodded defeatedly, weakly pushing Matt's hand away from your mouth.

   He stepped back, still keeping his gun trained on you. You could taste the metallic tang of his palm's sweat, causing you to wipe your mouth with your arm. You could feel your own body start to perspire as his eyes angrily assessed you; any semblance of nervousness gone. "What do you wanna know?" you whispered, eager to get out of here unscathed.

   "I wanna know what you know," he whispered back. "Why would you attack me? I was here for a meeting."

   "You can drop the act," you hissed. "I know you're a spy of Two-Face's. I know you just wanna join the team to gather intel. J knows, too."

   Matt nodded, thoughtfully chewing on his lower lip. "And what were you two gonna do with that information?"

   You hesitated. Maybe there was still time to fix this. Maybe you shouldn't air all of your plans to the very man those plans affected. Maybe Joker would come out, shoot him in the leg or something. Maybe you could turn this day around...

   Those idealistic thoughts were immediately snuffed out when you felt the gun's cold barrel against your temple again. "Now, (Y/N)," he ordered, causing you to swallow hard.

   You wanted to be a good criminal. You wanted to be of use to Joker and die with his secrets, if that's what it took to protect them. But, you were finding out that you weren't that kind of person. You were becoming a good criminal, but not a good enough one. Clearly, you still had some selfish tendencies that needed to be addressed. You were still an amateur, and you couldn't disguise that fact. Amateurs caved. Professionals did not.

   "We were gonna knock you out and torture information out of you," you admitted, feeling sick with guilt. Your eyes were downcast, tears rolling down your face. You had failed, and soon, everyone would know it. You knew that was better than death, but how much better? A minuscule amount, you figured. Your reputation was all you had. Without that, who were you?

   "We were gonna find out what exactly you were hoping to get out of spying on us. What Two-Face wanted to know about us," you continued, feeling yourself begin to tremble. "And then, once we found out everything—"

   "You'd kill me?" Matt asked with a chuckle. "Solid plan, I must say. However, I think it would've been much better executed with someone stronger. I always thought that you were a little overhyped. Rising to fame because of who you're sleeping with is not something to be proud of. You actually have to have something to show for it. And I knew you wouldn't have shit."

   You wanted to blurt out how you and Joker weren't even together, but you held your tongue. Now was not the time for petty distinctions; there was literally a gun held to your head. Even though the idea that you had nothing to show besides your boyfriend irritated you, you had to stay quiet. After all, it was proving to be true, wasn't it? You couldn't even take down one man. A scrawny one at that.

   "Now, does your team have any plans to retaliate because of this?" he asked you.

   You swallowed hard. You should definitely not volunteer such information, but you found yourself tempted to by the threat of imminent death.

   Earlier that morning, Joker had mentioned shooting up Two-Face's club (made entirely to compete with Joker's) in response to his bold invasion of your team. To send a message, perhaps. To communicate that your team was not to be played with. Nothing was really set in stone, so you weren't sure of how devastating the reveal of this plan would be. It would definitely be at least a little devastating, but that was best case scenario. The degrees of devastation were utterly unknown.

   Still, the gun to your head motivated you to come clean. "We were discussing shooting up your boss' club. Nothing was finalized, it was just talk."

   Matt nodded slowly. "Okay. Thank you for your cooperation."

   That sentence almost made you vomit. You didn't want to cooperate, so the fact that you had, and the fact that your cooperation was perceivable... You hated yourself for your compliance.

   Then, the beaded curtain began to rustle. You felt yourself become nauseated with fear as Joker and Frost emerged from the curtain. As they were faced with your current predicament, their hopeful faces at the long duration of quiet rapidly changed to shock. You had been relatively consistent with your intimidation and your success. What happened?

   Frost immediately pulled out his own gun, training it on Matt's smug face. "Put it down!" roared Frost.

   Instead of focusing on the armed man, Joker was looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. It didn't take a psychologist to deduce that he wasn't happy, but unhappiness was definitely a spectrum. Was he disappointed, or was he livid beyond belief? You didn't know, and nothing about his expression gave you any hints.

   Then, you had a bone-chilling realization.

   You had been focused on getting out of the confrontation with Matt alive. But, in being focused on that, you had overlooked a major detail:

   If Joker found out how willingly you had complied, you'd be dead then, too.

   Your throat began to close up, and breathing was difficult. You looked at Matt, praying he wouldn't out you, but knowing that he would.

   He chuckled, looking at Frost with a challenging gleam in his eye. "No, you put that down. Put it down or I shoot her right fucking now."

   The threat gave Frost pause. He flinched a little, causing his gun to jerk slightly. He looked at Joker expectantly, awaiting orders. It was very clear that he wanted to comply, and you felt a pang of endearment at that. Frost was Joker's right hand man. The fearless man who was willing to do anything and everything violent. Yet, here he was, willing to risk it all for your safety.

   To your surprise, Joker looked at Frost and gave him a single nod.

   You felt yourself relax as Frost lowered his gun. Even though Matt didn't lower his, you still felt exponentially safer.

   "Well, hi, J. It's good to meet you, finally," Matt said with a chuckle.

   Joker didn't say anything; he just stared blankly at him.

   Joker's lack of participation didn't seem to deter Matt from his obligatory evil monologue. "Sorry it had to be under such...undesirable circumstances. I really don't wanna dance around the issue, so I'm just gonna jump right into it."

   He grabbed you again, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. You tried to squirm away, but he began tracing his gun along your jaw, which caused your movements to still. "I know everything that you were planning for today, thanks to your bitch here. She got pretty chatty under pressure."

   Joker's gaze moved from Matt to you, and from the way his eyes were burning into you...

   Yep. He was livid. Not annoyed, livid.

   Fuck.

   "And that's not all," Matt continued, clearly reveling in the fact that he was dividing what was an unstoppable team. "She informed me that you had plans to shoot up my boss' club! Isn't that right, (Y/N)?"

   When you didn't reply to his rhetorical question, he hit you in the side of the head with the butt of his gun. You cried out in pain, gently touching the spot he had struck. "That's right," you replied weakly.

   The impact had caused you to see two of everything for a brief moment, and each duplicate was extremely blurry. But, once your vision got back to normal, you were disturbed to find that Joker's expression grew even more murderous. He looked like he wanted to take the gun from Matt and kill you himself.

   Somehow, he was beyond livid.

   You knew you deserved this anger. After all, Matt would escape, and he would tell Two-Face everything that he had found out. Two-Face would not only know that Joker was onto him, but he would also know that his club was in danger. He would know that he would have to keep an eye on your team, which meant that the most important part of criminality was lost: the element of surprise. The vast majority of crimes committed are only successful due to the element of surprise. Without that, your team wouldn't be able to touch Two-Face.

   Still, even though you deserved this anger, it petrified you all the same.

  "Look, J, mad respect for trying to teach your girl the ropes of this lifestyle. But, it's not for everyone. And I think you can see that now," Matt said, letting you go again. He began to slowly back out of the club with a big grin on his face, his gun still raised toward you. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to tell my boss."

   Frost began to twitch desperately, causing Matt to laugh. "Keep that gun away, Frost. Otherwise, she's dead. Actually, (Y/N), come with me."

   Instinctively, you looked at Joker for orders, but immediately wished you hadn't. That bloodthirsty expression was still on his face, which caused you to obediently follow Matt out the door. "Just so you don't get any ideas of chasing me outside and killing me there. Once I drive away, she's all yours," he clarified to Frost, who groaned at the notion of not giving this jackass what he deserved.

   Soon, you and Matt were outside, and you stood awkwardly by his van as he got in, started it, and sped off with all the knowledge he wasn't supposed to have. You looked back at the club, and Joker and Frost hadn't emerged yet.

   Then, a crazy idea popped into your mind.

   Frost may have been kind enough to look out for you, but after your performance, you figured that Joker was inclined to do the opposite. Your death was nothing less than imminent. You knew you couldn't just get in the car and expect a ride home like nothing happened.

   No. Your life would not be nearly as comfortable from here on out.

   You fucked up big time, so you would have to go back to square one.

   So, you took off running. You weren't even sure where you were going, but that didn't matter. You needed to just find somewhere to hide, somewhere Joker wouldn't find you and force you to atone for your sins. You needed to get as far away as possible so that he'd stop looking for you.

   Hot tears rolled down your face as you ran, the cold air stinging your lungs with every breath you took.

   You had it all, and you just had to go and blow it. It had been made abundantly clear today that you were never really a good criminal; you just dressed like it and piggybacked off of your other team members' successes to appear that way. When it came to doing things by yourself, you were useless. Which meant you were useless to Joker, to everyone else, and even to yourself.

   That was a bitter pill to swallow. But, the truth hurts. And the truth was that you had failed, and you needed to reevaluate your life. You wouldn't work for Joker anymore; that was a given. But, would you still be a criminal? If so, you would have to do some major self-improvement if you ever wanted to achieve a fourth of the fame that he had. But now, you doubted you were even capable of that kind of self-improvement.

   You let out a choked sob as you ran, your legs beginning to burn from the exertion.

   You were a failure, and you had fucked up your amazing life.

   You were a fucking failure.