Crossroads

"What do you want, clown?" The man to the right of Maroni finally spoke up, snapping the tense silence and snapping Hayley out of her moment of panicked paralyzation.

Clown? Shit.

"I want what's mine, Maroni.." It was definitely him.

Shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor as he waltzed closer and closer to the metal table. Closer and closer to Hayley. Her breathing hitched, hands carefully slipping away from her nose and onto her lap. That was a mistake. Scarlet blood pooled in her palm, dribbling over the edge and further staining her jeans. The blood that had already congealed had turned the blue fabric into a repulsive purply-brown colour. Mauve, almost.

"I can't recall me owing you anything, freak."

Her frightened green eyes glanced over to her bag, flung carelessly over the metal chair. She had a feeling she was going to need it. Despite her imminent terror, there was a small part of her that wanted to laugh out of pure spite. Maroni had been thrusted into the situation that she had been in a few seconds ago. Served him right.

"Tsk tsk tsk." There was a sense of humour in his tone, but it was hugely shadowed by the barely repressed anger, just bubbling away under the surface. "That's not very hospitable of you, is it? After all we've... been through." He sighed melodramatically, and Hayley could have sworn she felt hot breath brush across the back of her neck. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

"Well, we don't have what you want." Maroni usually calm demeanor was fringed with anxiety. "Batman's fucked us over. It's all gone."

She was missing out on something important - had the mob screwed over the Joker? It looked like it.

The urge to laugh leaped up again, and although she didn't let it escape - any attention was bad attention at this point - she could feel it bouncing up and down in her chest, reverberating in her throat with a irrepressible glee. A big fuck you to the people who had probably broken her nose.

But then she remembered Sam.

She clamped her lips together, pushing down a groan of frustration. He was going to get himself killed, and despite what he had just done to her - it would destroy her if he died. He was the only family she had, after all.

The Joker seemed to be contemplating Maroni's excuse, the tap tap tap of his shoes echoing across the large room. Everyone, even Hayley, was waiting with baited breath for his response.

Then he began to laugh. It was an awful laugh, brimming with malice and pure, unadulterated hatred. A shudder rattled down her spine, and she rubbed her arms self-consciously, trying to get rid of the goosebumps that had risen there.

Everyone else was affected too; a look of unease was shadowing Maroni's face. She could have sworn she heard a whimper.

"I don't believe you!" He cried out between cackles.

Bang.

The man beside Maroni slumped in his chair, thick, almost-black blood dribbling down from the gaping bullet hole between his eyes. It looked like tar. A muffled yelp of disgust flew out of her lips, and it was at that point that chaos erupted.

The sound of screaming bullets and the shattering of glass seemed to thicken the air around them, and out of fear of being caught in the crossfire Hayley did the first thing that came to mind; ducked. Her chin smashed against the linoleum floor and burst in white-hot pain, but the adrenaline spiking through her veins refused to take notice of it. Scrambling under the metal table like a spooked cat, she almost cried in joy when she saw the very edge of her black messenger bag. She could hear the thumping of footsteps as more and more people poured in through the double doors - like a hive of angry bees.

If those were the Joker's goons, then they were pitifully outnumbered.

Hayley snatched up her messenger bag, fished out her gun, and ducked out of the table.

The fluorescent lights disorientated her for a second, but once her vision focused she saw exactly what she had been fearing - clown masks. A whole lot of them. And, the most terrifying - the Joker. Their eyes met for a split second, black against green, amusement against anger. She could only hold his gaze for a few seconds before glancing away. She heard him snicker, and the anger inside of her reaching boiling point.

"Fuck." Hayley hissed, raising up her pistol and shooting at the first mask she saw.

It was like she was playing one of those carnival games, where you had to shoot jets of water at those creepy clown masks in order to win a prize. The goon crumpled to the ground, and a rush of exhilaration instantly lifted her spirits up. The next few shots were easy.

Bang bang bang. Two goons collapsed to the ground, the other had managed to dodge it - lucky bastard. He dove for her, and unfortunately she wasn't fast enough to run away. A clammy hand wrapped around her ankle, yanking her down to the ground.

"Mmmph." She groaned, the small of her back contacting painfully with the ground. The goon straddled her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and slamming her against the floor once, twice, three times. Hayley tasted blood at the back of her mouth.

Through the blinding pain, she managed to wriggle her knee in between the two, throwing him onto the floor and allowing her some time to shakily stand up and remember that there was a gun in her hand. Her hand trembled from exhaustion as she raised it up and aimed at the goon, who had sprung to his feet. His mask was painted with a big, yellow smile and red tear-drop shaped eyes, which seemed all the more disturbing as he lunged at her yet again.

Bang. His knees buckled and he crashed into the ground,

The fight seemed to have lasted an eternity, when in reality it had lasted only a few minutes. Hayley was already on the verge of passing out. She whipped round at the sound of a scream, only to see yet another goon fighting with someone she recognised. A friend of hers, actually. It looked like the goon was winning. Hayley rushed over to them, grabbing the man by the back of his neck and throwing him to the ground. Before he could recover, she planted a bullet in the back of his head.

"Thanks." Jean's chest was rising and falling, as she struggled to collect her scattered breath.

"It's fine... I missed you."

What an odd time for a reunion.

"I missed you too." Her painted lips broke into a grin, "But I think we should put niceties to one side for the moment, don't you?"

The shattering sound of a gunshot emphasized her point.

"If you say so." Hayley returned the mischievous grin, a new kind of strength fluttering in her limbs.

That happiness didn't last for very long. A rough hand grabbed her by her collar and yanked her away from the blond, and her muscles clenched, preparing to fight once again. She let him have the first hit - well, really she didn't let him. She was just distracted.

What was that fizzing sound?

Beep beep beep.

Shit.

The goon must have heard it too, because his grip on her shirt wavered ever-so-slightly. Hayley ducked out of his grasp, spun around, and promptly kicked him to the ground, chest rising and falling in both fear and exhaustion.

If she knew where the beeping was coming from, maybe she would have a fucking chance!

beepbeepbeepbeepbeep.

Boom.

Hayley's scream was swallowed up by the roar of the explosion. Bright orange flashed and danced and she could smell burnt flesh and hair and hear screaming. There was a horrible, searing pain ripping and tearing at her leg, and her long, drawn out shriek cut off as the ground gave way beneath her and she fell through the floor.



The muscles in Hayley's arms and legs quivered as she propped her weak body up, eyes squinting against the bright lights of the room. Bodies littered the floor, from the pale, unarguably dull faces of the mob rats to the garish, disturbing masks of the Joker's goons.

The bottom of her black boots were crusted with congealed blood, and as she shakily stood up she saw the same thing had happened to her slightly-singed jeans. With a whimper she grabbed at her leg, trying to quell the large flare of pain that wracked through her seared skin.

It was silent.

The Joker was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Maroni. It seemed the main players had left the game, leaving the pawns to squabble amongst themselves. It was funny, but for the majority of the fight she hadn't seen either one of them. She wondered if the Joker had left because he had managed to get to Maroni.

To be honest, she didn't care too much what he did to him.

"Jean?" Her voice wavered as her uncertainty grew. There was no trace of movement in the ruins of the warehouse.

"I'm over here." A muffled cry rose up over the ringing in Hayley's ears, and she stumbled over to the source of the noise.

"Bastard stabbed me in the leg." She huffed, one hand pressed against her inner thigh and the other rubbing her face wearily.

"Will you be alright?" Hayley hesitantly sat down next to the blonde, also rubbing at her cheek and grimacing at the flecks of dried blood that sprinkled down into her lap.

"Yeah. It wasn't a deep cut. It just stings like hell."

Hayley leaned her head against the cool wall behind her, briefly shutting her eyes. Her mind was hazy with exhaustion and pain and blood-loss, but her next thought sliced through that fog of uncertainty like a knife.

"Oh god, where's Sam?" Hayley's eyes wrenched open, voice rising in pitch with her hysteria.

In the middle of the exhilaration and exhaustion of the fight, she had forgotten about her brother. She stumbled back up, pushing herself up against the wall and hissing when her right leg flared in pain.

"Shit. I haven't seen him since the fight started." Jean's blue eyes sparked with both worry and pain as she tried to stand up, only to slide back down onto the ground as the pain overwhelmed her.

"It's fine - don't get up. I'll look for him." Her voice cracked a little at the end, proof that she already knew what had happened to him - she just didn't want to believe it. Gasping in pain, she stood up on trembling knees, trying to recognise her brother's face in the crowd of dead bodies in front of her.

"Hayley -"

"He's not here." Her frantic eyes scanned the mob's faces, once, twice. "Jean, he's not here!"

"Maybe he ran?"

"He would never run." Hayley was the more cowardly one of the pair - as much as she hated to admit it. Hot tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Where the fuck is he?"

Turning on her heel, she hobbled towards the pair of metal doors, swinging them open with a harsh bang and not caring who heard her. She was pretty sure she was going to die anyway. Her steps felt slow, lazy, as if she was trapped in one of those horrendous nightmares - only this was reality, and she had lost a shitload of blood, and even if she didn't die she was probably going to pass out on the cold, concrete floor of the hallway.

And then she would be late for work. A small, hysterical giggle burst out of her lips. As if she cared if she was late for work - the only decent thing about the place was Isabella, and she was only there on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Why was she still giggling? That wasn't funny.

Hayley turned the corner, gripping onto the edge of the wall for support - the chalky, dry whitewash rubbed off on her fingers, concealing the scarlet blood that had been there before. Her tired green eyes lifted up from the mess on her hands, freezing and widening once she noticed the body in the hallway.

Time had sped up again.

Hayley was beside the body in a flash, hands fluttering uselessly around his torso, as if she could somehow help him. There was this odd sound hammering against her ears - a high-pitched keening, torn between a scream and a sob.

It took a few seconds for her to realise it was her making that ugly sound. Her stomach was churning, throat clenching as if on the verge of vomiting. She didn't want to look at his face again - at his cheek.

Oh god.