Miriam

I stop by the base to pick up different clothes, more formal. An outfit to make me look official. Someone not to be messed with. I’ll bullshit my way through, like I’ve done before. No one stops me as I march up to the police station and stride through the doors, smiling brightly. The officer at the desk looks bored, perking up when he sees me.
“Hi, how may I-”
“I’m here to see Jonathan Crane.”
He pauses, eyes narrowing.
“Who are you?”
“Emma Smith, his lawyer.”
He gives me a look but lets me through. I walk past the long rows of cells, distantly able to hear Joker’s cackle. Crane’s near the end, hunched over in his small metal chair. The mask’s gone, probably taken for evidence and I absently wonder how many masks and needles Gotham PD must have. Crane looks up when I knock on the door. His right eye is swollen and bruised.
“Dr. Crane, my name is Emma Smith.” He smirks at me, nodding. I unlock the cell and step inside, leaning close to him. He raises an eyebrow. “You look very handsome tied up, Dr. Crane.” I kiss him, slipping the lockpick I’ve been hiding under my tongue into his mouth. It’s a simple plan, but it’ll work. “I’ll be back for your trial,” I tell him, winking.
He grins.
“Thank you, Ms. Smith. You’ve been very useful.”
I blow him a kiss as I leave. No one seems to notice me leave besides the desk guard. I smile and wave goodbye, getting a nod in return. When I’m free of the building I take a seat on a nearby bench, waiting for Crane to escape.

An hour later he calls me.
“Sir?”
“I’m in an apartment building nearby. Malone’s. First floor. Room 116.”
He hangs up with a click and I sigh, getting off the bench to walk quickly down the street, hoping no one’s following me because I don’t feel like killing anyone today. Malone’s is shabby and run down, walls cracked, paint peeling. I head inside just as it starts raining and ring up Room 116. Someone unfamiliar answers, a man with a smooth, pleasant voice. The kind of voice made for giving speeches.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Miriam,” I tell him, not willing to reveal any more to a stranger.
People speak in the background, someone cackles, and the voice returns.
“Alright. You’re in.”
An alarm buzzes as the door unlocks. I walk through, counting the apartment doors until I get to 116. It’s by the exit door, with the easiest escape route. Clever. The door opens before I can knock.
“You, ha!, must be Miriam.”
It’s the Joker. His face paint is smeared, clothes torn. He gives me a grin big enough to stretch the scars around his mouth and bows, shuffling aside to let me in. I’ve never seen him in person before, and the effect is...unsettling. He’s constantly moving, eyes darting from side to side, hands twitchy, shifting uneasily. I find myself looking for Crane. He’s slumped on a couch, holding an icepack to his eye. His mouth is twisted with anger. Two-Face sits near him, good side facing me. He must’ve been the one with the pleasant voice, being a former politician. I head to kneel near Crane.
“Are you alright, sir?”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
He’s not Scarecrow, but he’s not quite Crane either. I fuss over him for a bit, pretending not to notice the tiny smile it earns me. Crane has to keep his image up. Two-Face is silent, staring at the chipped surface of his coin, but I can hear the Joker laugh occasionally.
“What happened?” I ask once I’m satisfied that Crane is unharmed.
“Goddamn Batman. Swooped in during lunch, brought a whole squad of cops with him,” Two-Face mutters, flipping his coin. “Thought we’d be sent back to Arkham. You did okay getting us out,” he tells me, probably the most praise I’ll ever earn from him. “Once he escaped, Crane released us, and Joker brought us back here. It’s one of his hideouts.”
Joker comes into the room, chuckling softly.
“Yep, ha!, yep, like to live so close to the coppers, dance, haha, on the edge of danger. Coppers too stupid to see, HA!, see what a juicy prize lives so CLOSE!” Joker says, bent over with laughter.
I can see Crane’s jaw tighten with annoyance.
“Is it safe to leave?”
Two-Face stands to peer through a curtain. I’m looking at the bad side of his face, so I can’t see his reaction, but he snaps them shut.
“No. We’ll wait for dark. Better then.”
Crane nods, creeping his hand over to wrap around my waist. I’m surprised by the coupleness of it, like I’m his girl and he can’t keep his hands off. It doesn’t bother me. I like Crane. Joker’s off somewhere, and Two-Face seems to be lost in his head.
“Sir.” He looks down at me, black hair falling over his eyes. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was locked underground in a room with three angry Russians, a Buddhist monk, and a blender?”
“Huh?”
I shrug, leaning further into him.
“You seem bored. I also downloaded science apps onto my phone for your entertainment.”
His eyes are so bright it’s almost hard for me to look at them as he brings his lips to my ear.
“Miriam Webster, you are a godsend,” he whispers, then nips at my ear lobe. “Now, tell me about the underground room.”