"Introduce a little anarchy. Upset the established order and everything becomes... chaos." ~Joker

There are moments within Evangeline Winter's lifetime, where she has had to deliberate if that moment was the most frightened she has ever felt. She has had to reminisce old, daunting memories and compare the level of fear between them and the current moment to determine whether or not she has ever quite felt as scared as she did in that moment.

However, the moment she locked her eyes on the Joker, there was no hesitation in believing that this is most certainly the most terrifying moment of her entire life yet.

As Shakespeare once said, "Better to be a witty fool than a foolish wit," something that whether the universally acclaimed writer appreciates it or not, is embodied by the Clown Prince of Crime himself. The Joker plays a fool – in case you couldn't tell by iconic clown moniker – but it doesn't take the World's Greatest Detective to realise how much of a pure genius the Joker is. Unpredictability, schemes that the greatest minds in the GCPD fail to comprehend, twisted universal ideas and vulnerabilities of mankind and our nature found in each one of his crimes and 'statements'. The people of this city merely think of him as crazy, and whilst he certainly acts the part of an insane individual, Eve feels as if his supposed insanity is a large smoke screen to distract people from his subliminal messages of chaos and the particular 'freedoms' this anarchy entails.

Order is forged amidst harmful chaos, and chaos defects as a rebellion against suppressive order. From one another, they are born. A more perfect example of that outside the Dark Knight and the Joker could not be found.

The Joker truly does embody his moniker to its fullest extent. He takes symbolism and meaning of the fool, the clown, the jester, and the joker from every aspect of every belief and faith. Even in tarot cards, the 'Fool' is believed to be a very powerful card, representing a new beginning – and, consequently, an end to something in your old life. The Joker brings the end of order, starting a new life of chaos. He also, quite literally, brings life to an end, and depending on whether you're religious or not, a vast number of people believe that to be the beginning of your afterlife.

Never has there been a person so intricate and unpredictable in character and motives and beliefs as the Joker. Never has there been a person who not only defies the laws of the legal system in such a darkly eccentric manner, but also the laws of human nature and the human mind as the Joker does. Never has there been a person who shows all the signs of so many different classifications of insanity, yet when the time calls for it, can be as sane as any common man that you walk past on the streets.

Never has there been a person that not only terrifies Evangeline Winter to her very core, but remains an entire enigma to the astute detective.

She understands Batman's play. She understands Riddler's play. She understands Two Face's play. She understands Scarecrow's play. She understands the play of all the leading Don's, as well as Jim Gordon and most cops in the GCPD precinct. She understands how these people think, how their minds individually operate, the very values and materialism they hold dear. All of this, she understands through the common grounding of human nature.

And yet, the Joker is the only one who she cannot understand, because his absence of human nature defines him as something unhuman. Not a human, but also, as so many have called him, not a monster.

He is simply the Joker.

Watching him with a near religious fervour, Eve notes every breath, every step, every muscle movement, and every twitch of his lips almost unblinkingly. The way in which he indifferently and comically parades around the place, careless of everything yet caring for his own ideals at a clearly obsessive level. Most criminals care for understandable material goods or ambitions; power, money, revenge, enlightenment, and everything in between. Things that Eve can understand and play to her own advantage. Things that have structure. The Joker's obsession with chaos may come as a form of enlightenment, but is entirely unstructured in a turmoil of anarchy.

Chaos is the one thing you cannot predict in this world. Even now, time and the future is becoming predictable with humanity's vast and rapidly increasing understanding and development of technology, as well as the various metahumans, some of which can bend time or play with it as they wish, one of these metahumans being the super hero the Flash. But chaos is unpredictability and disorder is its purest form, something that because it is unpredictable and unknown, strikes fear into the heart of humanity. It's why so many value order over chaos.

In a way, Eve thinks herself to be of a middle ground. She values lawful order, but by establishing chaos amongst the criminals who value unlawful order, she leaves them vulnerable so she can rationalise with them, to bring common sense to a society of people who in turn are generally orderly, yet thrive off the chaos of those at the other end of the legal and moral spectrum.

She almost overlooks the disappearance of Bruce Wayne from her side, so enraptured by the man she finds herself struck by and horrified by simultaneously. He laughs, a laugh that by comparing it to the laugh of a hyena before it devours it prey, would not do it any justice. "Quite the celebration you got going on here Mary." He addresses Mayor Marion Grange in conversation, yet comes off as if he's talking to the entire room in a display of melodrama. "Even ol' Jimbo is here!"

Harleen Quinzel – infamous Harley Quinn and partner in crime to the Joker – seems to emit something that Eve thinks is supposed to be a squeal, but is almost high enough in pitch to shatter glass, and enwraps said Police Commissioner in a rather ditzy hug. Gordon looks more than put off by the act. "Hiya Jimmy! How's the daughta?"

"Ah yes, how is the kid Jimbo? Still can't stand being in a wheelchair?" That playful, dark, eccentric and threatening baritone that fluctuates in pitch – it seems even his voice pattern is constantly changeable – escalates into high shriek of a laugh, overpowering the shrilly laugh of his girlfriend as he does so. He's quick to tone it down again, like that blood-curdling laugh could simply be switched on and off with the press of a button. "Ooh I'm sorry, still a sore spot? Hey, look at the bright side; at least it's not sore from the waist down. Ha!"

Jim Gordon wears his well-composed anger stiffly, Harley having quite quickly returned to her 'puddin's' side. "You can't escape Joker; GCPD will have this place surrounded in minutes. Batman won't let you get away either," the aging Police Commissioner scowls in warning. Ah yes, Jim, antagonise him with your virtues, Eve thinks to herself, wondering how after so many years dealing with the Joker, the Police Commissioner still hasn't learnt his lesson. You know he thrives off of it, so why do it? She loves Jim, she truly does. What a good man, most likely the last good cop of his kind at this rate, but a little common sense here and there couldn't hurt him.

That laugh. That laugh that changes and conveys every mood that passes through the Joker at every second. Now it's low, low and unnerving, like he knows something you don't. It frustrates Eve to no end. However, it's his girlfriend that gets the first word in, drilling out in that Brooklyn accent "B-man's ruined one too many date nights! Mista J's not lettin' him get away with it this time, ain't that right puddin'?"

Could it hurt the woman to use some proper grammar? Eve ponders, aghast at her vocabulary. She used to be a psychiatrist, but for the staff at Arkham to throw the Joker of all people at her as one of her first patients was foolish. He's a Class A patient; not even the longest lasting, most experienced psychiatrists at Arkham could handle him. What made the Warden believe that a fresh out of college grad student could?

More laughing ensues. Laughing laughing laughing. It comes in small bursts, and dies away just as quickly. Eve's beginning to see a pattern, noticing the manner in which is face and body will shift before he does so. In spite of being enraptured by the enigma that is the Joker, Eve instead elects to block out his grating dark humour and threats, peering around in an attempt to spot her foul-mouthed friend. Knowing Bec, she won't hesitate to even bad mouth the Joker should he head her way. Really don't feel like attempting to barter with the Joker in hopes that he won't kill her and probably me afterwards.

After a few moments of searching, Eve eventually spies her blonde companion a few meters from a hallway, a hallway currently occupied and guarded by two henchmen with more muscle than Eve thought humanly possible. Well, at least the gyms in this city should be earning a generous profit. And they say that crime doesn't pay.

She starts at a moderate pace at first, little steps behind people at a time, heading in the direction of the blonde psychiatrist, whilst keeping an eye on the Joker at all times. Should he begin drawing a blade or a gun or any kind of comically sadistic weapon on anyone at any time, Eve needs to be prepared to stall him until Batman arrives.

Unfortunately for the private detective, the need for a distraction comes a fair bit sooner than she would've preferred.

An elderly man with far too much bravado and fearlessness for a man that old in Gotham City should possess snaps at the Joker for something that Eve didn't quite catch, too preoccupied making her way over to Rebecca Daniels. She has to stop her efforts over to her friend upon the Clown Prince of Crime darkly laughing whatever insult the man had uttered off, abruptly striking him across the face and proceeding to – .... dance on the elderly man's hurting body?

Any kind of pre-planned response or carefully thought out words that could potentially intrigue the Joker in a safer manner are throw to the wind, Eve barrelling out from the crowd of shaking onlookers and aristocrats in hopes to stop the infamous criminal from hurting that poor elderly man. "Dear God would you stop already? Your antagonising is pointless by this rate; everyone in this city is already terrified beyond reason of you

A pin could be dropped; it has fallen that silent in the room.

Every politician, every wealthy business man and woman, every reporter, every guest of the Winter Gala are holding their breath like it will be their last, even the Mayor and Commissioner Gordon stare wide eyed at Evangeline Winter, like she couldn't have possible done something more stupid than she just did. Gordon was already making his way over to the poor man when he was grabbed by two henchmen and struck in the gut, forcing him to kneel from the pain.

Rebecca looks ready to just about launch herself into the altercation, and most likely get into a cat fight with the Joker's girlfriend, but one fleeting glimpse from Eve has her stopped in her tracks. She always has a plan, the psychiatrist attempts to console herself, still wanting nothing more than to disregard her friend's warning and jump in with her anyway. If I interrupt, I could screw everything up. Fuck I hope she knows what she's doing.

Evangeline Winter has no idea what she's doing.

"Hey," the Joker drags out in a low tone, a tone of faint recognition and familiarisation as he squints at the North Carolinian. "I know you... You're the loony who tackled the mob!"

Eve can't help but quirk an eyebrow at that, or the words that fall out of her mouth in response. "Loony? Has anyone ever informed you, Mr Joker sir, that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?"

A pause. A strangling, tense pause... and then, a laugh.

"Hahahaha!" The deranged clown cackles and giggles, and then sobers up quite quickly from his laughing, as per usual. "A funny one! I've been waiting for one with a sense of humour. It's about time Jimbo and Batsy found a new playmate; Night-bat and Birdbrain were getting so boorring!" He starts skipping and waltzing and strolling over to the investigator amongst his little rant, pointing a knife – which Eve had failed to see him take out – at her to accentuate his point every so often. "Whooole criminal underworld is topsy-turvy because of you. And usually I'm the one causing chaos in this town. But you? Ha! What a riot!"

A purple gloved hand suddenly shoots out; mercilessly seizing the chin of Evangeline Winter in a grip she couldn't shirk herself from if she tried. The Clown Prince of Crime yanks her face right into his, close enough that she can make out every age line in the cracks of his face paint, and every vile stain on the two seemingly infinite rows of his teeth. Foul breath permeates the air around her nose, scarring his sense of smell, whilst the mere sight of such a petrifying smile so close to her is currently frightening off any common sense she could potentially scavenge in a moment like this.

Pure, unadulterated fear. That's all she can feel right now. Not even the likes of Jonathan Crane, the Master of Fear himself could conjure the level of overwhelming, blinding fear Eve is presently enthralled by.

A sharp prick rests against her neck, somewhere over the purple glove and behind the petrifying painted face of the clown covering almost every aspect of her vision. A knife, wonderful.

"I like you toots. You've got spunk," the Joker purrs, knowing exactly the kind of effect he has on her right now. "So I don't really want to kill you right now, not when you have the mob running around like chickens with their heads chopped off. But if you mess with my affairs, if you come after me, then all of Jimbo's horses and all of Jimbo's men will never be able to put you back together again. Comprende?"

Willing herself not to shake, she stares down the clown with what little steel she has left. "You find me threatening." It's a statement, an observation. Not a question.

The Joker dramatically groans, leaning back momentarily do to so, before yanking her face close to his again. "Cut me a break here dollface. I'm a man! I have a fragile male ego that needs pampering on a regular basis, and finding a woman like me doesn't pamper it, it annoys it."

The investigator stumbles at that. "Like you? How exactly am I like you?"

"Why you're an agent of chaos of course!" He exclaims, as if stating the obvious. "I like setting off chaos amongst Gotham's finest officers and politicians and citizens and scum of the criminal underworld – I'm not discriminative like that. Chaos for all! But you? You enjoy letting chaos take the wheel amongst the bad, and only the bad. And that's bad for business toots, because that's my thing."

"So I leave you to your devices, and you don't mutilate and murder me in the most grotesque and colourful manner your mind can conjure up?" Eve shakily clarifies, hands still curled around the Joker's hand gripping her chin and neck in hopes to eventually pry it off.

Eve is deprived of the Joker's response, for as the clown began to open his mouth once more, an aggressive, feminie voice pierces the ears of every person – henchmen and aristocrats included – in the room.

"HEY! You cake-faced clown motherfucker! Hands off the private investigator! Ain't no one wanna see that receding hairline and those chapped lips up that close honey!"

Immediately, Eve almost lets a curse slip. Almost. Bec.

Whatever the blonde psychiatrist had planned worked, for the purple glove holding her hostage instantly falls from the detective's face, as well the knife pressed against her milky, smooth neck. His whole body snaps in the direction of Rebecca Daniels, like a shark that has had a taste of blood in the water.

She stands out of the crowd, similarly to how Eve burst from the throngs of fine jewellery and extravagant attire, with a glare that could put any man or woman six feet under if looks were capable of killing. It withers once it meets that of the Joker's however, a sight that has stones churning in the stomach of the raven haired North Carolinian.

Harley Quinn, who has remained uncharacteristically silent throughout Eve's exchange with the Joker, almost sees red at the very act of someone talking in such a manner to her boyfriend. "HEY! That's MY puddin' you're talkin' 'bout lady! Lay off!"

Bec's tanned arms cross one over the other, somewhat more courageous facing the ex-psychiatrist than the Clown Prince of Crime. "Sorry – not really – but I just needed a distraction."

Eve frowns. A distraction—?

A black cape floods her vision, a sign of both hope and terror in the city – depending on where you're standing. Unfortunately for her, Joker just narrowly avoided Batman's immediate grasp and distanced himself from the fearless, imposing vigilante, his mood sky-rocketing several miles. "Batsy! Baby! Was wondering when you'd turn up to the party. Bit late, aren't you? Did your invite get lost in the mail too—?"

"That's enough Joker." Demanding, gravelly, levelled, as always. Low, and yet it carries across the whole room. Red moves in the corner of Eve's eye. Robin is here as well is seems.

Once again, Eve almost entirely blocks out the Joker, Harley and Batman interact with one another, more focused on her best friend still standing out in the open, currently behind Robin. 'Are you okay?' she mouths to Rebecca, fear still ringing in her bones from the very thought of Bec antagonising the Joker.

Bec shrugs, a shaky but reassuring smile tugging at her lips. 'Been better,' she mouths back.

The abrupt movement of the wall of black standing in front of her jolts Eve from her silent conversation with Rebecca, as Batman and Robin launch themselves at the henchmen between them and the infamous clowns. Eve uses this chance to sprint towards her friend, despite the heels. The other guests of the room seem to also take this as their cue, cries of fear and clicks and clacks of expensive shoes meeting the marble flooring erupting as they form a chaotic sea of helpless men and women in their fleeing.

It takes no small amount of effort to weave her way through the onslaught of panicked civilians desperately sprinting for the exit, but her hand finds Bec's soon enough, the two of them relieved to finally be in each other's reach. "What the hell were you thinking Ange?" The blonde immediately chastises her, raising her voice over the grunts of the fight and screams of terror.

Eve stares at her friend amused but also incredulous. "The entire proverb of 'those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones' wasn't limited to the Joker when I spoke it Bec. You just called the Joker a 'cake-faced clown mother' and criticized him on his 'receding hairline and chapped lips'. In the very least, I didn't insult the certifiably insane super criminal right to his face."

"Technically I did it behind his back," she corrects the detective, the both of them deprived the chance to further converse and scold one another by none other than James Gordon.

Amongst the anarchy, his course hands reach out and grip the shoulders of the two women, seizing their attention. "That was reckless, from the both of you."

"We're reckless, Commissioner. She's just reckless in a more elegant and refined way. It's what you got when you hired her," Bec explains, jutting her head at Eve with a wry smile.

Gordon shakes his head, knowing that this isn't the place or time to hold this conversation, and even then, the likelihood of him winning is very slim. "Come on," he gruffly presses, guiding them out like the rest of the panicked civilians.

If it was chaotic inside, then it's pure Armageddon outside. Officers, reporters, terror-stricken civilians, medics. All in a flurry to regain control. Bec and Eve are handed over to separate officers and medics for their accounts of tonight's events, as well to check them over for injuries.

A small bandaid lies over the light cut made by the Joker on Evangeline's neck as she sits on the edge of the ambulance's back entrance, a blanket gently draped over her shoulders with her eyes fluttered shut. Leisurely breathing in and out, the North Carolinian attempts to bring order to her own mental and emotional state, tasking herself with focusing on the individual sounds the light wind carries over to her in the dark of the night.

The fact that she could've and should've been murdered just then is very real. More real than when she faced Sal Maroni. At least then she had a plan, she was a few steps ahead of the mob boss. This? This was all spontaneous, all in the moment. Nothing pre-planned. And with an unpredictable factor thrown into the midst (said factor none other than the Joker). The sudden realisation that Gotham City really isn't like any other city finally seems to hit her like a cargo truck.

Metropolis, Central City, National City. Cities that Eve has visited before in her travels, cities with heroes and villains, just like Gotham city. But they're not like Gotham City, aren't they? Aliens and metahumans for criminals and villains, grasping for tangible, materialistic, predictable goals. It's easy to place blame and believe you understand the means behind those that aren't normal, those who were born with or are given special abilities that make them super and dangerous. But people? Plain, old, everyday people from the masses of our own species, with nothing out of the ordinary except for a deranged mind? Those are the kind of people that make up a good majority of Gotham's Rogue's Gallery.

Scarecrow. Riddler. Two Face. The Joker. Harley Quinn. Victor Zsasz. Penguin. Mad Hatter. Black Mask. Deadshot. Deathstroke. Firefly. Catwoman. Falcone. Maroni. Markovic. O'Reilly. So many of Gotham's biggest and baddest are just human. Of course you have your selection of metahumans; Poison Ivy, Solomon Grundy, Killer Croc, Clayface, Mr Freeze and so on. But almost every villain that Batman has encountered on the streets of this city hasn't relied on henchmen or powers or gadgets alone. All of these people, in one way or another, are just smart. Smart and dangerous and mentally unstable. Those three are not a good mix.

I need to start thinking about tackling this from a different angle, Eve ponders tiredly to herself, eyes still gently closed amongst the many sounds of sirens, wails and demands of scurrying officers. If I'm really considering going further with this, I need to be prepared for more than just the mob. The mob I understand, but it's the super criminals who run this city. I still refuse to treat them any less than the humans they are, but I have to be smart enough to know how each one of them thinks. This will certainly prove to be interesting.

"Miss Winter."

A small smile weakly graces Eve's lips, and she allows her eyes to flutter open only to find the source of the familiar baritone standing no more than a couple feet from her. "I do believe I told you to call me Eve."

The Dark Knight disregards her correction, immovably staring her down with that pinning, strong gaze of his. "What you did was reckless tonight."

By this stage Evangeline is too tired, both physically and mentally, to put much effort into retaining propriety and elegance. She shrugs. "I took a chance. You were late."

"Traffic."

"Cute, and here I thought I escaped the Joker."

"Eve."

"What's with the interrogation? I'm in shock, look, I've got a blanket." She flaps the small blanket around her shoulders to accentuate her point, in spite of the disapproving stare sent her way from the dark clad vigilante.

"I'm serious."

"Aren't you always?"

His stare turns more severe at that, and he crosses those last couple feet between them imposingly, prompting another exhausted sigh on Eve's behalf. "I apologise," she amends, before he opens his mouth again. "The whole night has me in a state right now. Point is, I wasn't in good faith about to let the Joker murder a poor man who made the mistake of speaking up. Not whilst I was standing there. Would you just stand there and let someone be murdered or hurt like that?"

The Batman's rich blue eyes narrow in on the detective. Not accusatory, but something else. "I know how to handle the Joker. I'm capable of physically taking him and his men on. You aren't."

"That doesn't change the way I feel about letting innocents die," Eve defensively responds. "I knew you were coming. I'm capable of verbally sparring with a criminal for a few minutes in the least. Do you still underestimate me, even after everything with Maroni?"

"No," he immediately answers, blocking out everything behind him. In that moment, the Dark Knight is the only thing Eve can hear and see. "You overestimate your own capabilities with people like the Joker. You've proven proficient and adept you are with normal criminals, I trust you with that. But the Joker, Two Face and Riddler are a whole new level. You're not ready for them." How could he possibly know about my encounters with Harvey and Edward?

Eve masks her face to hide her surprise at his last two sentences. "How do you know about that?"

"I just know." Enigmatic and vague, as always.

"Edward and I are on friendly terms. Well, as friendly as a super criminal can be." She knows she's treading on very thin ice with this subject, and has to evaluate and select her words carefully enough so she doesn't incriminate herself. "He finds me entertaining because I've preceded his expectations. Whenever I bump into him – be it at the Iceberg Lounge or elsewhere – he has so far been my inside man. I've obtained a lot of information from him or because of him, all of which has so far been accurate and sometimes pricelessly helpful. I'm not an idiot, I'm well aware he'll toss me to the metaphorical wolves the moment he sees himself in any danger, but for the time being I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth."

The Dark Knight's face hardens ever so slightly. "You might be lenient with certain crimes and criminals because of your own brother's reputation, but I'm not."

Her jaw tightens at that one. Low blow. "That was below the belt."

Eve can tell that he really doesn't care how below the belt it was, so long as it got his message across. "It was meant to be."

"Rather hypocritical of you," she evenly defends as she crosses her arms, trying not to allow the sting of his previous comment to get to her too much. "Considering how I've been informed of the kind of relationship you hold with Gotham's most infamous thief. Jim's not stupid; he merely turns a blind eye to you turning a blind eye to a few of Catwoman's burglaries, all because she feeds you information every so often. It's the same with Edward and I."

"It's not the same," he firmly objects, yet doesn't rise to the bait. "Selena Kyle isn't known for murdering innocent civilians in elaborate, impossible to win death puzzles. Nygma is."

"I'm not justifying what he has done," Eve gently explains, holding back a yawn that has been brewing in the back of her throat since she had finally sat down. "Nothing Edward can do to help me will ever justify or make up for what he has done, and under no circumstances have or will I ever advocate or encourage any of his crimes. I know any inquiries of mine won't go without a price here on out, which is why I'm treading very carefully around him, but even you can't argue that the information he fed me for the Maroni case was useless or corrupt."

The Dark Knight stares down at the petite raven haired woman sitting on the edge of the ambulance with the small blanket draped around her shoulders. He speculatively eyes the dark circles under her curious yet tired hazel eyes, fully aware that she won't be awake much longer at the rate she's going. Batman knows he can deal with Nygma on a later date, but for now, the private investigator before him is in dire need of some sleep. Confrontations with the Joker are always taxing; no matter how many times one may encounter him.

"Go home. It's been a long night," he commands, waiting for some kind of disagreement from the investigator.

As predicted, Eve meekly shakes her head, rubbing a tired eye. "Jim might need some help with—"

"Eve. Go home." He steps closer, blocking absolutely everything else entirely now. "You and your friend need rest more than anything. Stay away from the rogues." With a flutter of his dark cape, the North Carolinian is suddenly met with the back of the vigilante, watching him turn and walk in the direction of Jim a few cars over.

Gawking for a moment from the fatigue slowing her brain, she quickly pieces together a few words to form an appropriate sentence. "Thank you, by the way." He pauses where he stands; lending Eve the impression he can hear her. "I didn't thank you before. That was rude of me. I don't take you saving my life – or Bec's life – for granted or lightly. So, thank you. Please convey my gratitude to Robin as well."

She almost believes that he'll just nod and walk off, like he usually does, but when he responds – back still to her – she begins to wonder if the fatigue is really conjuring up auditory hallucinations for her. "You're welcome."

And like that, like always, the Dark Knight leaves Evangeline Winter alone without another sound.

***

"I'm gonna need a week of sleep after that fiasco," Bec inelegantly stumbles down the hallway leading to Eve's apartment, heels in hand and occasionally bumping into her friend whilst she's at it. "Maybe a month. Still want to apply for a spot in Arkham though, now more than ever."

"So long as your employers refrain from assigning you Miss Quinn or the Joker," Eve agrees with an exhausted yet humoured smile. "I don't believe either will forget your memorable speech for quite some time."

Bec snorts as Eve searches for her keys, but both women pause when they notice the door already a couple centimetres ajar. The blonde is the first to react, rolling her eyes and quietly groaning. "If it's that pompous puzzle prick again I'm gonna shove that golden cane of his right up his ass—"

"Edward's not this messy," the detective lowly disaffirms, soft hands gingerly pushing the wooden door open as slowly as possible and peeking inside to the very last thing she would expect tonight.

Edward Nygma is currently in her apartment, but he's not alone. The criminal is surrounded by three hostile wolves; his green shoes dangle helplessly a few feet in the air with the rest of his body, held up by the lapels of his immaculate suit by none other than Nathaniel Winter. Her brother.

A/N: Been a while since I've updated this one! I've re-written this chapter fourteen (nearly fifteen) times by now, and so far this version has sat with me the best out of all of them (still not perfect, but better). Thoughts of the story so far?

Joker was impossible to write. I tried merging Heath Ledger's Joker with the Arkham series' Joker, so I hope it kind of came across like that. Was he written alright for you guys? Or too OOC (out of character)?

There will likely only be another chapter (maybe two) for this part, and then we'll be moving onto Part Two: Crime Has Two Faces (wonder who this part will be centred around).

Thanks for reading and that's all for now, bye! :) xxx

~ T.L