As Joker led you through the crowded club, you couldn't believe your luck. You had a long list of names that you were considering, but the fact that your first option had worked out was mind-blowing to you. You tried to stay humble, though, since you still had to pass one final test to be accepted into his crew:

   Target practice. Were you a good shot, or were you just another mediocre villain failing to be something special?

   You knew the answer, and you hoped you could show Joker what that answer was.

You began to realize that you were blindly following Gotham's most notorious criminal to an unknown location, and that fact made you a little nervous. He could be taking you anywhere, and he could do anything to you. You hoped your gut was right, and that he really did just want to assess your skills. But, as he pushed open the club's door and exited the building, it was hard to remain optimistic. But, you couldn't show weakness. You had to keep following.

So, you, Joker, and his grunts were all outside, standing near the club's entrance. The fall air caused shivers to run up and down your spine. You crossed your arms over your chest, a desperate attempt to preserve warmth. You looked at your companions, and none of them seemed to be affected by the chill. Camping out in the cold was evidently something they did often.

Joker rested a hand on your shoulder and gestured to the road before you. "See all those people?"

You did. There was almost a constant stream of people walking into the club, parking in the lot, or driving past it. Aside from being a calloused murderer, Joker was also quite the hustler. "Yeah."

"Kill one of 'em."

For some reason, that demand caught you off guard. "What?"

"You heard me."

When you had envisioned this test, you had imagined him bringing you to some weird section of the club with targets all around. Granted, why on Earth would he have an area just for that sort of thing? But, it had made sense to you at the time. You would be able to flex like crazy without taking the step of taking a human life. It was a win-win.

You knew you'd have to kill someone eventually, but you didn't think that day would be today. Your emotions toward this last-minute demand were complex; you weren't sad, scared, or guilty, but you felt weird. Not weird because you thought you'd get caught, and not weird because the task was more upsetting than you had thought. It was just something you'd never done. Unfamiliar things never brought you ease, even if they were good things. It would just feel different, and you couldn't really imagine how.

   Joker sensed your hesitation. "Something wrong?" he asked, taunting you.

   You shook your head. "No. But, do you really wanna have me murder one of your patrons? That's just losing money." You truly didn't know why you were stalling. You had imagined being a vicious criminal countless times, and murder was inevitably part of those scenarios. Why, then, was it such a step for you?

   "Doll, I'd like to think that I'm doing pretty well for myself. One person ain't gonna break the bank."

   To prove his point, he snatched the gun from you. With no hesitation whatsoever, he shot a random passersby right in the head. She crumbled to the ground immediately, her brains splattered on the sidewalk. Her hair was dyed a bright red, so all the surrounding blood almost looked like someone had liquified her hair and poured it all around. Her pale skin grew even paler as she died before your very eyes.

   You didn't even flinch. You had seen murder time and time again. You lived in Gotham, for God's sake, and you had hung out with some of the scummiest individuals in the city.

   Everyone else just kept going about their business, too. Most didn't even glance at the body as they walked past. You couldn't tell if it was out of pure indifference or out of fear of the Joker. After all, it wouldn't be too crazy to infer that something as simple as a glance at his handiwork could set him off. It would make sense for people to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.

"It's as easy as that, sweetheart." Joker held his wrist out and looked at his expensive Rolex. "I don't have all night, here, (Y/N). Stop stalling. You're either gonna show me what you're made of, or you're gonna hit the road."

He pressed the barrel of the gun to the flesh underneath your chin, grinning madly at you. "I don't like to wait, ya see. If you make me wait, I might just have to—"

You were petrified. God knows you were petrified. The fucking Joker holding you at gunpoint was definitely a scary situation for anyone, let alone a novice like you. But, you knew that he gravitated toward boldness, not shyness. So, you ripped the gun from his hands. Since he wasn't expecting it, capturing the weapon was quite an easy task.

Now, you were standing before him, armed and dangerous. You were expecting him to take a step back at the sudden aggression, but he only stepped closer, obviously feeling no fear. He chuckled and looked at the weapon, which you had only just now realized was instinctively extended toward him. Your offensive pose must have been a result of your subconscious fear.

"How cute," he cooed through his laughter, pointing to the outstretched gun.

   Realizing you looked like a complete fool, your cheeks began to burn. "Sorry."

   You didn't know why you were apologizing, either. You began to think that the hardest part about impressing Joker wasn't getting past your lackluster resume or shooting a gun. It was simply acting like a socially competent person in front of him. Something about him was so intimidating that your bold nature crumbled under his gaze.

   You turned your head and saw a relatively muscular man walking confidently past you, Joker, and his lackeys. He was wearing a form-fitting t-shirt and whistling at all the girls he walked past.

   He seemed like a dick. He would be an easy kill. Any remorse you'd feel for the average Joe would be nonexistent for this guy.

   You waited for him to be a decent way away from you to take your shot. You wanted to showcase that you weren't just good at close range combat, but that you could pick off people from a distance, too.

   You raised your gun and focused. You watched his head bob up and down as he walked, and you aimed right for it. His particularly bouncy walk was a little challenging to get past, but you were determined to.

   You could see Joker watching you out of the corner of your eye, manic excitement in his expression.

   Ignoring how weird killing someone felt, you pulled the trigger. Your hands lurched backward a little due to the kickback off the gun, but you remained steady enough.

The bullet hit the man right in the back of the head, right where you had aimed. He crumbled to the ground immediately, his blood soaking the sidewalk just as Joker's victim's had.

You watched the gruesome sight, grinning a little. You had done it. You had both shown Joker you were a good shot, and took that daunting step of killing a man. You felt more alive than ever due to this man's death, and it was an addicting feeling. The weirdness that you were anticipating was ever-present, but it was a good weird. Not that off-putting weird that came with new things.

   Why stop there? you thought. You needed to keep impressing him. And you needed to keep on chasing this high.

   So, you turned and began to just pick passersby off one by one. You were lost in the thrill of murder, and with each person that hit the ground, your euphoria grew. You didn't miss once; and guests were actually starting to flee. They were scared of you.

   They had never run from Joker. After all, they had willingly waltzed onto property that he owned. But, the second you started your rampage, off they went. That must have meant you were doing something right. You appeared more unpredictable than Joker, more scary even.

   Joker watched as you committed murder after murder, chuckling a little. You knew that he could no longer deny your worth to him. Yet, he still gripped your shoulder tightly. "All right, that's enough, doll."

   You had almost been in a trance of some kind. His voice was enough to pull you out of it, though. You dropped the gun on the ground, your hands suddenly shaky and incapable of gripping the metal. You couldn't believe what you had done. You still felt no remorse, but the gravity of your endeavors were hitting you all the same.

   Not knowing what else to do, you began to laugh. This didn't feel real.

   Joker smiled at you. His hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, drawing circles on it with his finger. He patted it playfully with an open palm. "I think you'll fit in just fine, yeah?"

   Relieved but not at all surprised, you nodded. "Yeah."

   He turned to Frost and tossed him a key. "Bring the car around," he demanded.

   "Yes, sir." Frost obediently left the scene to retrieve Joker's car.

   "Where are we going?" you inquired. You had imagined a bit more clubbing to take place, so you were surprised to find out you were leaving already.

   "Home." He tapped one of his fallen patrons with his foot. "Now that you've brutally murdered a good percentage of my patrons."

   You couldn't tell if he was joking or not by his tone. You flushed in embarrassment, praying you hadn't offended him. "Sorry." You hoped that your whole tirade wasn't bad for business. But, why wouldn't it be? The survivors of your massacre probably wouldn't be chomping at the bit to come back after what they had witnessed. After all, a casual murder or two from Joker was to be expected. Twenty dead bodies in the span of a minute was not.

   He looked at you with a piercing gaze, a gaze you were pretty scared of. "Don't ever apologize," he cautioned lowly. "This is what you were meant to do. If you apologize, you feel remorse for what you've done. Remorse is not fit for the criminal that you aspire to be."

   He stepped closer to you, grabbing your chin and searching your eyes with his own. "Do you feel remorse, (Y/N)?"

   You shook your head, your voice suddenly leaving you.

   "Use your words."

   The harsh demand sent shivers down your spine. "No, I don't feel remorse," you managed. And it was true.

   "Good girl." He patted your cheek again.

   Because you had always idolized Joker and his reputation, the praise felt great. You knew you'd be hungry for it during the course of your involvement with him and his crew. If Joker approved of something you were doing, that meant that you had potential. That you were that much closer to success in the crime world.

   As Frost pulled up in Joker's purple sports car, you began to question the logistics of this whole thing. "So, I'm moving in now?"

   "Mhm." Joker opened the back door for you. With a nod of thanks, you slipped into the car. Joker sat next to you, and two of his grunts filled in the remaining seats.

   One was left, but he seemed to accept his fate as all the doors shut. This must not have been his first time being abandoned; after doing the math, you realized that he may have had to walk to the club as well. After all, the lackey that you had shot may have taken your place in the car on the way there. This meant that the car was still one seat short.

   Just by the man's annoyed demeanor, you assumed that that was the case.

   "But, what about my stuff? Shouldn't I pack or something?" you asked as the car sped off.

   "Hush. No need to stress so much, doll," Joker purred. "I have everything you could ever need." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, signaling the end of that conversation.

   Not wanting to disturb whatever zen he was trying to find, you nodded and fell silent. You hoped he was right, since there were some belongings back at your place that you were really going to miss. But, you knew you had to make sacrifices in order to get your name out there, so that's what you were going to do.

   You looked out the window as Frost was actively doing forty above the speed limit. The sketchy scenery of Gotham passed by in a blur, and you once again thought about your insane luck. (Y/N) (L/N), one of Joker's chosen few? It sounded like a weird fever dream.

   You were a little nervous about what your new life would bring you, but you were excited, too. After all, fame was right around the corner.