A/N: Am I the only one who literally screams when they show Heath for the first time? Yes? Ok.

|•|•|•|

"Because once I didn't care about the rules anymore, I had all the power."
—Adam Glass

|•|•|•|

"East End, right boss?" Spalding confirmed, latching his seatbelt as he ignited the engine of the van.

"Uh-huh." Joker grumbled, crawling into the back and taking his spot on the bench.

Bleaker filed into the front seat, Horton close behind him when Joker suddenly spoke up.

"Horton," He barked.

"Yes sir?" The pudgy man squeaked, his voice slightly muffled by the plastic clown mask that shielded it.

"Back here-ah."

Horton's heart clenched in his chest, eyebrows raising as he observed the empty space on the bench next to the painted face man, whose lips tugged into a playful grin as the palm of his gloved hand tapped three times onto the cushion, as if to invite the man over.

"Now." He pressed.

"Y-Yes, sir."

Bleaker raised an eyebrow, masked by his disguise as he closed the passenger door behind him, observing closely as Horton rounded the vehicle and climbed in through the open back doors, the toe of his boot accidentally kicking one of the gym bags as he stumbled inside.

"Wa-tch the guns, Hort." Joker calmly scolded, scooching a bit to the side so that the man could take his spot next to him.

Horton's heart began racing in his chest the moment he slowly took his seat, furthest away from Joker as he could. The madman picked at his nails, his back hunched as he leaned forward in his seat. His pink tongue darted outward to graze his lips as he tapped his foot rapidly.

"Do you really think that Gordon will come?" Horton lightly asked, his voice uneasy as Joker eyed him.

"Let's-ah, hope so, Horton." He grumbled.
"I highly doubt he'll-uh, turn down any information on the infamous Joker, now will he?"

Horton stirred in his seat, the van bouncing down the uneven pebbled pathway as the Joker swiftly retracted a switchblade from his pocket, flicking open the blade with his gloved thumb as he turned it over in his palms, inspecting the keen cutting edge of the knife as his gaze flickered over towards the trembling henchman on his right.

"What're yah all-uh, jumpy for?" He pried, an eyebrow raised as he twirled the blade between his fingers. Spalding and Bleaker remained dead silent in the front seat.

"It's n-nothing, sir." Horton stuttered.

"Horty-Hort-Hort-Hort-on." Joker muttered under his breath, suddenly shifting back in his seat as he straightened his shoulders, rotating his hips sideways so that he could face the man a bit more fully. "Y'know, yah kinda re-mind me of this-uh, kid I used to know."

Horton's heart hammered in his chest, Joker's eyes boring into his as he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"He had a lot-ta po-ten-tial, like your-self." Joker lightly spoke, poking the tip of his blade with his finger as he wet his lips.

Horton's chest tightened at his actions. God, it drove him absolutely wild when he licked his lips like that...

"H-Had? Is he dead?" He spluttered.

"Yup." Joker shrugged, his lips closing tightly together before opening back up rather quickly to emphasize the "p" at the end, creating a popping noise as he diverted his gaze from the shaking henchman. "Called me a freak."

"You're not a freak, sir." Horton rambled, observing closely as the Joker's lips widened, a stupid grin plastered on his face as he reached over, patting the man roughly on the shoulder as he froze beneath his touch.

"Thanks-uh, pal." Joker grumbled, an eyebrow raising once more at Horton's peculiar reaction to his touch.

Why was he so damn jumpy with him?

"Y-You're welcome, sir."

"So," Bleaker began, growing a bit uncomfortable with Horton and Joker's interaction as he twisted in his spot, slinging his arm over the bench of the seat so that he could face the men seated in the back. "Let's walk through the plan once again?"

|•|•|•|

Ember bit harshly on her bottom lip, so much so that she began to draw blood as she scribbled onto the white walls, the lipstick beginning to run low as she finally finished pasting "I Carry Your Heart With Me" onto the wall.

She felt slightly awful for adoring this poem, along with the memory associated with it. She'd loved her Noah with all her heart, but there was something about this poem that would make her feel a way that Noah could never make her.

The sudden memory of her walking in on Joker flooded her mind, her eyes squeezing tightly shut until she saw stars as she desperately tried to shove the visuals away.

It was rather odd to see him—like that.
He's the fucking Joker for fucks sake! He murders people without remorse. He fucking stabs people in the neck and plays in their blood. And yet, she kept seeing glimpses of him that proved further that he was simply human. It was wild to know that someone as deranged as himself could be capable of something so... normal. Of course, he was a fucking guy, and men do have their needs...

She'd seen the fucking Joker's dick.

Ember openly scoffed, shaking her head violently as if it'd rid the images from her brain.

Although he provided her with food, had given her her own clothing, as well as clean sheets and a bed to sleep on, she still couldn't stand the fucker. Besides the fact that he was a psychopathic murderer, he was just plain sinister. Maybe it was the ugly ass makeup he wore...

What did he look like without it?

She'd emptied the tube of lipstick mid-word, a defeated sigh escaping her lips as she collapsed onto the floor and observed the mess she'd made on the wall. Life in this hell-hole was so unbelievably boring. As morbid as it was, she practically craved their interactions. Even though he was frightening an unpredictable, she'd rather pass time taunting him than sit alone in this pitiful room, being nothing but a forlorn figure laying in a heap on the bed as the time ticked leisurely by.

However, her life before this imprisonment was not much better. She'd worked long hours at the boutique, ending her nights with a cup of microwavable noodles as she watched nineties rom-coms on the sofa until she fell asleep, only to wake up and repeat the cycle the very next day.

She'd been married to Noah for two years. They had a quite small and rather intimiate ceremony at a small church outside of the city. Their marriage was exquisite. That is, until three months before his untimely death, when things began to go a bit south.

Noah would work long hours at the hospital, whereas Ember would work overtime at the boutique, their schedules overlapping and preventing them from seeing one another.

He'd become distant, as if he'd grown bored with her. The sex ceased, the affectionate, morning kisses became non-existant. It was as if her and Noah had become roommates, nothing more. The day he died, he hadn't even kissed her goodbye before work.

Maybe, he'd simply fallen out of love with her.

Maybe it was because she was still somewhat in love with her teenage boyfriend.

|•|•|•|

"Aaron Bleaker, is it?" Jim Gordon called, his glasses shoved tightly against his face as he outstretched an arm, offering to shake the henchman's hand.

"Yes, sir. Commissioner Gordon, correct?" Bleaker confidently spoke, clearing his throat hastily as he rose from his seat, the chair noisily scraping against the wood floor as he took Gordon's clammy hand in his.

"Correct. Interesting choice of location." Gordon raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning the the dingy building, his gaze promptly avoiding the abundance of half-naked women as they pranced around the floor.

"A buddy of mine owns the place, I come here quite often." Bleaker blandly replied, his voice raised to be a bit more audible over the music as his eyes flickered over a woman who passed by, lingering for a bit too long before Gordon loudly cleared his throat.

"So, tell me what you know about the Joker." Gordon asked, removing a small pad of paper from his overcoat jacket as he clicked open his pen.

Bleaker heartily chuckled, his fingers lacing around a cool glass of scotch as he took a small sip, scowling at the taste before finally answering.

"He's quite a character." Bleaker began.
"Always fiddling with one of his knives."

"Do you know where he is?" Gordon impatiently questioned, the tip of his pen pressing harshly onto the page as the ink began to bleed through.

"I have a bit of an ide-uh." A haunting voice whispered in Gordon's ear, an arm darting outwards to clutch tightly onto his chest as a knife pressed forcefully against the skin of his throat.

His breath hitched in his throat at the sudden contact, the feeling of the Joker's nose against his right earlobe made his stomach churn as Bleaker gleefully sipped from his glass from across the table.

"Evening, Commissioner," Joker growled, kinking the mans arm back as he wriggled beneath him. "Long time, no-uh, see."

"You son of a bitch." Gordon spat, glaring at an amused Bleaker who sat opposite him. "What do you want?"

Joker giggled against his ear, the blade shoving further into the skin of Gordon's neck as he forgot how to breathe entirely at the horrifying sound.

"I just want you to te-ll me of a spe-ci-fic persons where-abouts." Joker shrilly spoke, his voice raising in pitch as he smacked his lips, swaying in place as Gordon sat locked beneath his grasp.

"Where is the Bat-man?" He lowly growled.

Gordon remained silent.

"I'd answer if I were you, buddy." Bleaker piped up, crossing his arms as he observed the scene before him.

Joker's nose pressed firmly up against Gordon's right ear, his gloved fingers laced around his wrist as he held the mans arm in place behind his back, his green ringlets falling into his eyes as he awaited a response.

The additional individuals in the strip club remained silent, eyes widened as they, too, observed the situation at hand. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. The only sound was that of the crappy music and a womans bare thighs against the metal of a pole.

"I don't know where he is. No one does."
Gordon stated.

Joker released his hold on the man, a sigh of relief flooding from him as he began to back away.

"I'm-uh, not particu-lar-ly fon-d of that answer, Commissioner." Joker stated, rounding the table so that he was directly beside a confident Bleaker, whose lips curled into a smirk.

"I know as much as you do." Gordon calmly explained.

"So, is it true? Did Gotham's dark knight break his one rule? Di-d he rid Gotham of it's white knight?" Joker taunted, leaning his torso against the table, twisting the blade between his fingers as he amusingly wet his lips.

"That's what they say." He monotonely replied.

A strand of giggles tumbled from Joker's lips, his arm outstretching across the table to wave the knife in Gordon's face.

"I'm-uh, proud of him!" He gloated.
"He's finally realized his true po-ten-tial."

"Are we done here, Joker?" Gordon snipped. "Because you have a bit of a treat waiting outside for you."

"Hmm," Joker sang, tapping the blade against his painted lips as he shifted his weight between each foot. "I like a good surprise."

"I'm sure you do." Gordon glared, the doors of the club bursting open as Bleaker hopped from his seat, spilling the glass of scotch onto the table as Horton rounded the stage, tossing him a rifle before cocking his own.

"Love-ly to see yah, Commissioner, bu-t I must be going!" Joker called, snatching a rifle from Spalding's grasp as he scurried from the table, the familiar sounds of shots fired echoing in his ears as he giggled.

Several dancers hopped from his path, a chorus of shouts and screams erupting throughout the building as he abandoned his men, shuffling out the back door and propelling himself into the drivers side of the van, rifle still in his clutch for protection.

He'd given the men a forty second window. After those forty seconds expired, he'd pull the van from the alley and disappear into the night, with or without the three men.

"Come on, come on, come on." He murmured, bouncing his leg impatiently as the engine roared to life.

Twenty-two seconds.

The large, metal back door thrust open, the familiar whisp of blonde hair appearing as Horton climbed into the back of the vehicle, his breaths coming out in short pants as he held the rifle close to his chest.

Fifteen seconds.

The door sat tightly shut, a profusion of profanities escaping Joker's scarred lips as his gaze roamed the alley, looking out for any signs of the GCPD.

Nine seconds.

The door swung open once again, a disheveled Bleaker emerging, chest heaving as he toppled into the back of the van.

"Go!" He shouted.
"Spalding's dead!"

Joker grumbled in response, thrusting the gear shift into drive before exiting the covert alley, his knuckles glowing white as he sped down the road, slinking past the mess of police cars as a loud cackle wracked through his chest.

"And that is how it's done, boys!" He mused, a laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his greasy green curls.

"S-Spalding's dead?" Horton heaved, struggling to catch his breath as he lay defeated along the bench.

Bleaker sat planted on the floor, his back eased up against the side door as he avoided Horton's hurt gaze.

"Yeah. Shot right in the chest."

Joker remained silent in the front seat, deep in concentration as he swerved between vehicles, desperate to quickly return to his hideout before the GCPD left the strip club.

They arrived twenty minutes later, the tires bumping along the uneven dirt path as Joker put the van in park, exhaling noisily through his nose as he climbed from the vehicle.

Bleaker and Horton slowly followed, an unsettling silence between them as Joker skipped along the cracks in the pavement, giggling as he did so.

The kitchen was just as they'd left it, the overly large map of Gotham spread out on the island counter, along with sloppy marks that littered the page.

Joker pried open the refrigerator, retrieving the used shot glasses from the sink as he refilled them, the liquid sloshing up the sides and wetting the map as he grunted lowly.

Horton and Bleaker each grabbed a glass, deep frowns present on their features as Joker slowly rose his upward into the air, clearing his throat before finally speaking.

"To Spalding."

"To Spalding." The men chimed in unison, downing their glasses before placing them on top of the map.

"I'm-uh, gonna go check on the girl." Joker dryly spoke, avoiding Horton and Bleaker's gazes as he mindlessly shoved past them, his shoulder colliding swiftly with Horton's.

A blush rose onto his cheeks at the sudden contact. Bleaker rolled his eyes in response, waiting until the boss was out of sight before speaking up.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Horton stilled, his blue eyes studying the ground as he swayed in place.

"You can tell me, I won't throw you under the bus. I don't really want to see you die, you're pretty cool."

Would the Joker kill him if he knew?

"Yes," Horton breathed.
"I am."

"I'm sorry." Bleaker's expression faltered, taking a seat at one of the bar stools before running a hand through his matted hair.

"Sorry about what?" Horton inquired.

Bleaker sighed, tracing the writing on the map as he tapped his foot against the wood of the stool. "I'm sorry that you fell in love with the most dangerous man on the planet."

Joker crept towards Ember's closed door, smacking his lips together as he hummed a tune under his breath.

Just as he rose his arm to knock, the door swung open, revealing a recently showered Ember with wet, tangled hair.

"Uh, hi." Joker greeted, his lips tugging upwards into a forced smile as she rolled her eyes in response.

"Glad to see you survived." She groaned, abandoning the doorway as she plopped belly down onto the bed, resuming her assault on a new piece of paper as she aimlessly doodled.

Joker shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, hastily stepping into the room as his attention was suddenly diverted to the wall opposite the door.

Red writing littered the concrete. He immediately recognized the poem he'd read out loud earlier, etched cleanly into the paint as his eyebrows raised.

"You-uh, must really like that poem."

"Yeah. I do." Ember said.

Joker awkwardly cleared his throat, his gaze roaming the room as he observed the discarded clothing in the corner, along with the abundance of papers that covered the floor.

"Is there something you want?" Ember questioned, craning her neck to look backwards at him as he stood frozen in place.

"I have some-thing for you, actually." He grumbled, shoving his hand deeply into the inside pocket of his theatrical purple coat, fishing the pack of chapsticks from the pocket as he tossed them onto the bed beside her.

"Now-uh, your lips'll never be chapped."

Ember raised an eyebrow, her fingers darting outward to claim the package as she turned it over in her palm.

"You could use one of these, actually." She joked, ripping the paper on the back open as she took a single tube between her fingers, tossing it backwards towards him.

He caught it swiftly between his fingers, his gaze lingering on the tube that sat in his palm as a genuine smile toyed at his lips, his tongue darting outward to wet them.

"See!" Ember exclaimed, sitting up on the mattress as she thrust her finger in his direction. "I told you that you needed one! Always licking your damn lips!"

"Thanks, cupcake." He mused, tossing it into his pocket as he took another look at the vandalized wall. "Nice art-work."

Ember raised an eyebrow, glancing over her shoulder at the wall as she twiddled her thumbs.

"I thought you were going to make me scrub it off." She admitted.

"May I-uh, remind you that my walls are covered in ha ha's?"

"Fair deal." She giggled.

Was she actually joking around with Gotham's most feared villain?

"Er," Joker began.
"Spalding died."

"Oh." She squeaked.
"I'm sorry for your loss."

"S'okay. I'll be lookin' for a new guy, though. Any suggestions?"

"I don't have any friends, remember?" Ember pitifully replied.

"Ah, righ-t." He clicked his tongue.
"I-uh, best be going."

"Okay." She whispered.

His thumb darted upward to meet his face, scratching against the itchy paint on his lower lip as he turned on his heel, slowly exiting the room.

"Thanks for the chapstick." She chirped.

A smile crept onto Joker's lips as his back faced her, a response failing him as he promptly left, closing the door behind him.

|•|•|•|

A/N: Hey guys! I know this was a bit of a bleh chapter, but I've got some pretty crazy stuff coming your way within the next few chapters! Some questions will be answered and I'm extremely excited!

Also, I'm so pleased to see the reactions to Horton's feelings towards the Joker. I think I've maybe read one fanfiction where J has a henchman whose attracted to him, and he was fucking awful towards him and I hated it. SO, I strive to not make Joker a complete heartless asshole, especially towards Horton.

QOTD: A fun little question for you guys so I can get to know you better! What's everyones favorite Joker scene in TDK? Mine is a tie between the "hit me" scene and the interrogation, Heath's acting in both of those blows my fucking mind. Leave a comment with yours!!!

all my love,
allie x