"Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants."
–Epictetus

HOWARD'S OFFICIAL TIME of death was five-fifty-five in the morning, I'd come to learn.

Joker and I had dumped the body at a sewage plant downtown, where I proceeded to empty the contents of my stomach on top of the trash bag. My boss seemed to find it absolutely hilarious, whereas all of the food in my stomach was officially gone, and I felt like absolute garbage.

As we clambered back into the sleek black van, which reeked of death and cigarettes, I found myself growing a bit woosy. My head began to agonizingly spin as my stomach practically cried outward for food.

"Mister Joker — Sir..." I groaned, my palm meeting the soft cotton t-shirt that clad my torso as I attempted to massage the sore organ within.

"Yeeees?" Joker drawled, brows raised as he settled into the seat beside me. His sudden weight shifted the bench seat, prompting the leather to brush against my leg as I sat in a fetal position in the passenger seat.

"Are-uh, you okay, pal?" My boss wondered, a perplexed expression captivating his sweating features as I merely shook my head in response.

"I'm fucking starving. I threw up everything in my stomach." I confessed, cheeks flushing a bright scarlet color.

I was truly pitiful.

"Oh." Joker uttered, aggressively inserting the metal key into the ignition as the engine roared to life.

I watched intently as the man raised his left arm, the fabric of the sleeve getting caught momentarily on the blinker as the madman let out an irritated grumble. He raised his arm up towards his painted face, ushering the sleeve down to reveal several inches of his bare flesh, along with the captivating tattooed set of lines, accompanied by several indistinguishable letters imprinted upon his inner wrist. An amused grin tugged at my lips as his jaw dropped dramatically, his chins multiplying as scarred lips parted slightly. He squinted at the inked skin, as if he were viewing an invisible watch.

"Well — er — I guess we have the time to make a lit-tle pit stop before our next des-tin-ation." Joker stated, dropping his arm onto his lap before shooting me a questionable stare.

I simply glared back at him, too stunned to reply to the peculiar action as a snort vibrated its way through my nostrils.

He was truly something else...

"McDonald's it is."

"Are you sure this is going to work?" I questioned through a mouthful of food.

The van currently sat parked outside of the Gotham National Bank. The front passenger tire was propped halfway up on the curb, courtesy of Joker's sloppy parallel parking job as the sun began to rise over the multistory buildings.

The vexatious crunching of Joker's cheeseburger wrapper broke me from my trance, my brows furrowing in annoyance as I glared at the madman lounged beside me.

His fingers were now concealed by the thick leather of his plum hued gloves, which were currently rolling the thin paper into a tight ball. I openly scoffed as he repugnantly chewed the food with his lips faintly parted.

The perfectly rolled paper ball suddenly met my lap, easing effortlessly between my parted thighs as Joker shuffled about in his seat.

"'Course it will. The bank tellers in this damn town don't even bother checking IDs." My boss dismissed, fishing his hand into the depths of his theatrical coat before withdrawing a shiny silver credit card.

I cautiously retrieved the card from his grasp with two dainty fingers, a profusion of nerves littering my full belly as I turned the card over in my palm.

"How much do I ask for?"

With that, Joker's lips curled into a devious grin. His pupils instantaneously dialated, blood-stained scars stretching up the length of his cheeks.

"Empty it."

I swallowed thickly, twisting and turning the square plastic between my fingers. The roads were crowded with typical morning traffic, the residents of Gotham making their way to work on this lovely Friday as the Joker and I plotted to rob the bank blind.

A pair of shadowy eyes glared at me, impatiently awaiting my departure as I suddenly became very aware of the firearm sat snug in the waistband of my trousers.

"We-uh, don't have all day, sweethear-t." My boss mocked, his voice laced with irritation as I delivered a simple nod.

"Right." I clipped, unlatching the elastic seatbelt from the clip as it slid back into its holster. With one final deep breath, I exchanged a worrisome glance with my employer before climbing from the vehicle.

The soles of my sneakers met the cool concrete sidewalk, my pulse quickening with every waking moment as I feared that I may suffer a massive heartattack. I didn't dare glance over my shoulder to view the impatient clown in the drivers seat. Instead, I took an additional deep breath before placing one foot forward and beginning my journey.

If all went well, the ditsy woman behind the glass would fail to check for any type of identification, and hand me over every single dime that sat buried in Howard's account.

The sporadic gusts of wind sent my overgrown locks astray, several pieces tangling with my eyelashes as I hastily blinked them away. Besides the rush hour traffic inching by, not a single soul littered the spacious sidewalk. Typically, people didn't walk places at six in the morning, especially in dreary ole Gotham City. The residents of Metropolis, however, heavily differed in character. At six in the morning, most suburban residents took morning jog, sometimes even meeting for a cup of coffee to celebrate their unvaried workout.

It was fucking sickening how jovial Metropolis City was. Especially with that mutant they call "Superman" flying around and saving the day — Things simply couldn't get better there.

That's why I moved here.

From what I've heard, Gotham lacked any type of supernatural mutant who got a kick out of assisting the poor, distressed citizens. Although, with my neverending series of bad luck — however — Superman would probably find his way right here as well, omitting any chance of crime and diminishing my career plans.

I just could never fucking win.

Within the last several seconds, I'd managed to drift off into a bit of a daze, the haunting memories of Metropolis clouding my thoughts. I'd nearly run face-first into a burly mans chest, a sparkling gold badge twinkling in my eye as I nearly shit myself in fright.

The nearly seven-foot tall security guard flashed me a puzzled glance, his thick, caterpillar-like eyebrows connecting in the center as he furrowed them in wonder.

"Everything okay, bud?" The man rasped. I immediately halted in my tracks, a staggered breath catching in my throat as the guard stared me down.

"Yes, sir." I murmured, swiftly diverting my gaze. It settled upon his wildly shiny shoes, polished exceedingly near the toe region as they practically blinded me.

"Just zoning out." I simply dismissed before shoving past the beady-eyed man.

I'd managed to slip through the considerably large cracked double doors, courtesy of the petite woman in her easy seventies who had just recently pried them open.

My eyes immediately flickered over the surrounding area, heart thumping thickly in my throat as only three individuals stood in line, one of them being the white haired woman in her seventies. She was wearing a considerably tight floral printed dress, which draped well past the length of her wrinkled knees.

A single clerk stood behind the wooden counter, sheets of black hair framing her heart shaped face as she summoned a freckled man up to the counter.

My sneakers obnoxiously squeaked against the tan and white tiled floor, creating dark scuffs against the surface as I approached the petite line.

The old woman craned her neck at the sound of my shoes, a soft smile encapturing her aging features as I swiftly approached the line, which was indicated by a circular, black felt rope, strung along glinting gold poles.

Howard's credit card slipped between my fingers as I aimlessly toyed with the thin plastic. The woman glanced several additional times over her shoulder to view my rigid form, sincerely smiling on each occasion before eventually diverting her gaze.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the elderly woman wobbled away. The young woman with impossibly black hair glanced upwards, her emerald stare locking solidly with mine as her lips curled into a grin.

"Next." She softly spoke, simple grin transforming into a toothy smile. I glanced uneasily over my left shoulder, realizing that the bank was otherwise vacant, except for the pair of us.

It'd be so easy for me to rob her blind.

I obscenely attempted to clear the thick lump from my throat, but to no avail. If this woman discovered that I — in fact — am not Howard Levinstine, I would be completely fucked.

"Good morning." I politely greeted, rapidly approaching the counter. Howard's card sat firmly in my clutch, beads of sweat arising on my forehead as I hastily pat them dry with the back of my palm.

"Early riser?" The pretty woman wondered, cheeks slightly flushing scarlet as I merely nod.

"Lots to do this morning. I got some bad news last night, and I need to move today to be closer to my Dad." I lied straight through my teeth. "So — uh — I'll be needing to clear out my account."

My eyes trailed downward to meet her flowy, baby blue blouse, where a silver nametag claimed the spot just above her right breast.

Emily.

"Oh wow, where are you moving to?" Emily genuinely wondered, expression faltering at my statement. It was apparent that she was interested in me... I think...

"Germany." I effortlessly spilled, somewhat shocked at how easily the lie came to me. "My Mom studied abroad and met my Dad there. They settled down, had me, and got divorced when I was four months old. My Mom moved back to Gotham and brought me with, whereas my Dad stayed. He's just been diagnosed with stage four cancer, so I want to move there and help him until he dies."

Emily frowned at my explanation, a sympathetic smile tugging at her cherry red lips as she thrust her skinny arm in my direction.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I'll try and make this transaction quick so you can finish packing and preparing. Can I have your card?"

I silently nodded, handing over Howard's card in complete confidence.

So far, so good.

Pretty little Emily swiped the dead mans card, brows furrowing as she daintily set the plastic down onto the counter.

"Howard Levinstine?" She questioned, green gaze meeting my sea of blue.

"Yes." I thickly spoke, a stabbing pain appearing in my chest as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"You don't look like a Howard." She said, a small giggle escaping her painted lips moments later. "Can you type your pin onto the pinpad?"

"What do I look like, then?" I cheekily replied, stomach plummeting at the mention of a pin number.

"I dunno," Emily mused.
"A Ryan, maybe? Or a Jared? But definitely not a Howard."

With a considerably large gulp, my fingers hovered over the worn keys, possible number combinations littering my mind as I began to panic.

"Do people ever forget their pins? I feel so silly, but I'm completely blanking right now," I stammered, chewing harshly on my bottom lip. The metallic taste of blood filled my senses as Emily simply chuckled.

"My mind is a jumbled mess right now." I added.

"I understand. You just found out your father is ill, and now you have to move out of the country. It's alright, I'll override it." She assured me, a cold hand suddenly clamping down to meet mine atop the pinpad.

I stilled beneath her abrupt touch, unsure of how to even react. Before I could reply, she'd tugged her hand away, slightly leaning forward to whisper to me.

"Just don't tell anybody."

"Never. I appreciate this." I croaked, completely stunned that I'd managed to get away with bypassing the bank's most common security measure.

Emily typed aimlessly away against her keyboard, shooting me an occasional flirty glance. I weakly smiled in return, growing a bit impatient by the moment as the double doors swung open.

A middle aged man entered the premises, a navy beanie covering his head as his hands lay stuffed in the large single pocket of his mahogany sweatshirt.

Emily slipped the card back into my grasp, the cash drawer sliding open with a simple shing as she began to rip hundred dollar bills from the tray.

My eyes significantly widened as Emily failed to veer away from the hundreds till. In fact, she managed to run out of bills, and had to excuse herself to the back to retrieve more.

Her tiny frame slipped out of view, isolating myself and the middle-aged man, who hovered the waiting line somewhat impatiently, rolling backwards and forwards on his heels as I watched him from my peripheral vision.

What seemed like an eternity later, Emily reappared, a sealed envelope held in her grasp, along with a petite smile on her lips.

"You're all set, Mr. Levinstine. Twelve thousand eighty-two dollars and six cents. Good luck in Germany." She whispered, her left eyelid snapping shut as she winked in my direction.

"T-Thank you." I gasped, taking the hefty, cremé tinted envelope from her clutch. With both hands, I tightly held the money flat against my chest, avoiding the middle-aged mans stare as I sped from the counter.

Twelve thousand dollars.

Twelve THOUSAND.

TWELVE.

My heart hammered against my ribcage as I slunk from the bank, the sudden sunlight somewhat blinding my obscured vision. Lucky for me, the security guard had excused himself to take a smoke several yards away, providing a generous escape route for me as I skipped down the steps and disappeared from view.

Joker's van sat unfased, a single tire still perched up on the sidewalk as I rapidly approached the vehicle, envelope still held against my heaving chest.

Severely shaking fingers curled around the cool metal door handle, ripping it open with ease as I clambered into the sleek black van.

The Joker lounged in the drivers seat, right where I left him. His position, however, had slightly shifted.

His right leg was tugged up towards his broad chest, the pant leg on his plum dress pants hiked several inches upward, revealing a dashingly colorful sock.

Strands of oily, sandy blonde curls scattered his forehead, appearing as if they hadn't been brushed in weeks. Several pieces lay in his painted eyes, but that didn't seem to bother him, as he was solely fixated on the glimmering flame erupting from a white Bic lighter.

"How much?" He questioned, not even daring to break his trance from the vibrant flame.

"Twelve thousand." I breathed, tossing the sealed envelope onto his lap.

At my response, the flame promptly extinguished. Hidden brows raised, his lips parting as he struggled to formulate a proper sentence. Ungloved, colorant-stained hands lowered to meet his lap, right leg messily lowering to meet the ground once more as the Joker straightened his posture. The thick paper met his fingers, gliding effortlessly between the digits as he tore the flap open, revealing the contents inside.

An abundance of green toppled from the safety of the envelope, coating Joker's lap as his jaw considerably fell, meeting the soft skin of his neck and creating the illusion of several additional chins.

I silently observed as the man ran his fingers through the multitude of hundred dollar bills that coated his lap, eyes wide in astonishment.

"Well well well..." He muttered, tinged lips curling into a devious smirk.

"Well-uh, done, pal." Joker's ebony eyes met mine suddenly, stirring an eccentric feeling deep within me as I shifted in my seat.

"How 'bou-t yah bring me to that little friend of yours, hmm?"

A/N: so sorry for the somewhat short and uneventful chapter. I really wish I could bust out chapters like they're nothing (like I did with Paper Planes) ... But this story is proving a bit more difficult to write. I really hope this did not disappoint.

Things will start to pick up soon, I promise. xo