Straying out of Sanity

Getting through Uptown Gotham was probably the longest part of the drive. Midtown at this time of day was easy to drive through because everyone here was at their jobs from nine to five. We then crossed the Finger River into Downtown Gotham, more specifically the Gotham City Hall District (a place I had desperately tried to avoid in my two years here). I had a bad feeling that somewhere in this part of Downtown Gotham was our destination.

Surely enough not even five minutes in this district, the limo pulled into an alley and stopped. I looked around in confusion, wondering what the hell a limo like this was doing stopping in an alley randomly. I noticed one of the Joker's vans behind us and realized his henchmen had been following us the whole way.

Oh God I wasn't going to like this.

I looked back at The Joker when I heard Croc asking, "You sure she knows what she's doin'?"

"Shes a smart girl," he replied, fully concentrating on scribbling on a crumpled piece of printer paper he seemed to have pulled out of a small black purse that just appeared suddenly out of nowhere.

"Speaking of me knowing what I'm doing..." I started bravely, "What am I doing?"

Joker glanced over at me for a second as I heard Croc sigh. Joker didn't answer me right away but continued on scribbling on the paper before crumpling it back up and throwing it back into the purse along with the red pen he was using.

"We're about half a block away from the Gotham Superior Courthouse," Joker started telling me and already I didn't like what I was hearing, "You will go there. You will be searched upon entering the building. You will not let the guard searching you read that paper I gave you. You will go to the front desk. You will talk to a woman named Tracey Foster. You will talk to no one but her. You will tell her that you work for Keith Hartley and that he sent you to talk to his client. You will be led by her, and her only, into a holding cell. You will make sure you and the man in there have complete privacy. You will give the man that paper. You will convince the man in the cell to hire me. You will then leave the courthouse without speaking to any one and you will come straight back here."

That was the longest fucking list of 'you will's' I've ever heard. "Understand?"

"Yeah... go to the court house, talk to Tracey Foster, I'm working for Keith Hartley, she'll lead me to a cell, I give the man there the paper and convince him to hire you and then leave and come back here," I repeated what I found necessary in what The Joker told me.

"Well if I knew you were only going to remember that I should've saved my breath telling you everything else," He started laughing, Croc let a laugh out too.

By then I slid the black and red heels back onto my feet and opened the door to get out, feeling that the quicker I got to the courthouse the quicker I'd get out. I stepped out of the limo and when I stood up I heard The Joker's voice, now suddenly free from laughter, "Hey."

What now? I wondered and slouched a bit so I could see back into the vehicle.

Joker had moved into the seat I had previously occupied as to see me better and said, "Come back," pushing his sunglasses into his hair, like how I was still wearing mine.

I furrowed my eyebrows at his ... Request? Command? And asked, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Why would you?" he countered and my mind quit. I couldn't think of a reply for him. I couldn't think of a reply for myself. I couldn't think.

After a few seconds of nothing I stood up straight again and he shut the door to the limo, separating us. I stood there for maybe another ten seconds or so, trying to think but gave up, adjusting the purses' strap over my shoulder before walking out of the alley towards the busy street in front of me. I kept close to the buildings on my right so I'd have something to hold onto if I tripped, and concentrated hard on my walking. I was looking more at my feet than where I was going because of this and half a block later I almost completely passed the Gotham Superior Courthouse.

Before I went in I unzipped the purse and grabbed out the crumpled ball of paper the Joker had written on, deciding that maybe it would be best to just hide it so the guards here would never even know about it instead of risking them asking questions if they saw it. As I was unballing it, so I could fold it up nicely and hide it up one of the sleeves on the jacket, curiosity got the better of me. I looked around to make sure no one was watching me, as if anyone in Gotham cared about random people reading papers on the sidewalk outside of the courthouse, and then glanced down at the writing.

At the first glance of the words I barely cared about reading it anymore. The way that The Joker had written was much more interesting. His letters started out in cursive but then a word and a half in the cursive writing gave way to what looked like a doctor's handwriting which continued for a few more words before changing in the middle of a word to small, all capital letters which gradually grew larger and morphed into some of the most beautiful calligraphy I've ever seen before suddenly becoming choppy and spaced out. This chaotic mix of different handwriting continued throughout the whole paper and it looked as if fifteen different people had randomly taken turns writing on it.

After I got past that particular fact I tried to actually read it. That didn't work out too well for me but I could at least figure out enough to realize that this was a threat. Hopefully the guy I'm going to see can read it better than me. I quickly folded the paper into a square and hid it up my sleeve before entering the building.

"I'll need to check your purse ma'am," I heard when I was barely a step out of the revolving door.

I looked to my left to see the guard who had addressed me and pulled my purse off my shoulder, handing it over to him. The Joker told me to not talk to anyone but that Tracey Foster chick and I wasn't planning on disobeying him. It was about then when I realized that I probably should've checked the random purse outside before I let the guard in here check it.

As soon as that thought crossed my mind, however, the guard zipped the purse back up and handed it back to me.

"Alright ma'am, your good," he told me and I took the purse back from him with a smile before walking away towards a really busy crowd around the front desk area. I somehow managed to make my way to the front of what appeared to be lawyers and attorneys and such who were practically yelling about seeing their clients.

It probably would've helped me out If I actually knew what this Tracey chick looked like. I started looking at all the people who were behind the front desk, suspecting half of them to not actually be allowed there since some of them, too, were yelling about their clients.

I was stuck and I had no idea what to do. I could probably try asking someone for Tracey but I didn't want to risk that being odd, if anyone would even listen to me in this mob. Somehow I managed to hear the name Keith Hartley out of the deafening noise and I quickly looked to where it came from and saw a blonde woman on the phone. She seemed to look up as soon as I spotted her.

"Jillian?" she asked. It took me a second to nod because that wasn't my name. But then I had a sneaking suspicion that The Joker might possibly be behind this. And if not, she only asked if I was Jillian, she didn't give a last name and I could just say it was a mistake. She motioned me over to where she was at her phone and I started through the angry crowd of lawyers.

"Yes sir, she just arrived here," I heard her say into the phone. "Jill Carson?" she asked me and I nodded again.

"Yes sir, it's her... Yes sir... Yes sir..." I saw her blush slightly after her last 'yes sir' and she hung up the phone before standing from her seat and extending her hand to me. "Tracey Foster," she smiled as her blush faded.

I shook her hand and asked, "What was that?"

"Oh, your boss was calling to inform the courthouse that he was going to be late for meeting Mr. Maroni and was sending you to discuss the case before he arrives," we had started down a hall as she told me, obviously not answering what I wanted- wait, Mr. Maroni? As in Salvator Maroni?!

"Your boss, Mr. Hartley, he's a charmer huh?" she then asked me.

"Is that what the blushing was all about?" I asked, trying to keep calm.

"Oh gosh, you saw that huh?" she asked.

Of course I fucking saw that you whore. "Yeah. You have no idea what my boss is like," I told her instead. What I don't understand is why I was getting mad at her for blushing at whatever The Joker had told her over the phone instead of at The Joker himself for tricking me into sitting in a small room with the head of the Italian Mafia.

Tracey sighed, "Well I'll be damned if there isn't one good man left in this city thats up for grabs anymore, huh?"

I laughed humorlessly.

"New shoes?" she randomly asked.

"Huh?"

"I hate it when I buy new heels because I can never walk properly in them at first. Plus everyone looks at you like your utterly retarded when your wearing them so you can get used to them."

"Oh, yeah. New shoes," I said. I really wasn't in the mood to be talking with some random chick about my shoes right now.

"How much were they? They look expensive."

"I dunno, boyfriend bought them for me." Where the fuck did that come from?

"Oh, thats really sweet! You should thank him for me," she joked and we stopped at a holding cell door, being guarded by two policemen. "This is Jill Carson, her boss, Keith Hartley sent her. She needs to speak with Mr. Maroni for him," Tracey told the police.

They nodded and one of them pulled out a ring of keys to unlock the cell that Maroni was in. "When you're finished press the buzzer on the right side of the door," the other told me.

"And this will be completely private, correct?" I asked him.

"Of course, miss," he replied as the door was unlocked and I quickly stepped inside, the door closed and relocked quickly behind me.

The room I had entered was bare except for a metal table bolted to the cement floor and two metal chairs. Their was no one way mirror in the room and I doubt any sound could easily escape the heavy door, so this was going to be private.

Maroni was handcuffed to the table, his head resting in his uncuffed arm on top of the table surface. He looked up as I entered the room, starting to say, "Finally Hartley," but stopped when he saw me instead of his lawyer.

I tried to smile but my extreme disliking for the whole Italian Mafia, which I had acquired over my two homeless years in Gotham, made the smile looked forced and possibly like a grimace. "Hi," I forced out as I took a seat across from him.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Ha," I laughed. He didn't even know who the hell I was and not even two weeks ago I was in the same room with him and his mob buddies. I reached into my sleeve to pull out that paper I had hidden and slid it across the table to him. "Good luck reading that," I said monotonously as he grabbed it and opened it up.

"What's this?" he asked, looking from The Joker's handwriting to me. I rose one of my eyebrows at him as I set the purse I had on the table and rested my chin on it, staring at a spot in between Maroni and I.

It took him four or five minutes to decipher The Joker's writing, which should've only taken maybe a minute max for anyone else's handwriting.

"That clown sent you?" I heard him laugh in front of me as he placed the paper on the table.

I sat up straight in my chair and asked, "Why else would I willingly find myself in a room with someone like you?"

"I can think of many, doll," he smiled at me.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept your pet names for your whores," I replied.

He smiled at my rudeness and continued with, "I remember you. You were there that day Joker showed up. He was right about that rat Lau. But I'm surprised he kept you around, doll," he added just to be an asshole.

"Your not the first Italian shit head I've heard that from," I told him, quickly growing angry, "He died about a minute after he said that."

"If your trying to threaten me, doll, your doing a horrible job."

I glared in response to him.

"And you can tell that freak my family can take care of themselves and don't need a psychotic clown's help-"

"You said yourself that he was right about Lau. What did he say..." I tried hard to remember the day I first met The Joker and what he had said about Lau, "He knew the squealers when he saw them? And oh! Look who squealed," I laughed.

"That freak show wouldn't've been able to do nothin' to stop The Batman-"

"That 'freak show' told you that Batman had no jurisdiction, unlike Dent. He told you that Batman would find Lau and make him squeal. Now is it me or is that 'freak show' really good at seeing what your 'family' could not?" By now Maroni was starting to get pissed, as his face was tinted red. "It took what? Over a week for Batman to go and get Lau back into Dent's hands? The Joker could've handed you Batman's head on a silver platter long before that time was up, if you'd've only listened to him!"

"And how is he supposed to fix this mess I'm in now, huh?!" Maroni finally broke.

I leaned back casually in my seat as a real smile crossed my face, satisfied at how pissed I had made this man.

"I can tell you right now that If you don't take that offer you'll never see your lawyer again. Hows that for fixin' your mess?" I asked calmly, still smiling.

Maroni remained silent and fuming in front of me.

"No?" I questioned, "Fine," I said standing with the purse and the paper, stuffing that carelessly into the purse. "Have fun rotting in jail Mr. Maroni," I said pleasantly and went to push the buzzer so I could be let out.

"Wait!" Maroni nearly yelled at me. I turned around to face him. "Okay. I'll take his offer. He can have half of my money. But," he paused, waiting for me to move away from the door and come closer to him. the very thought of being closer to him repulsed me but I took the two steps towards him.

"But?" I asked. Maroni stood from his chair and was near the same height as me in my heels.

"But I want Lau too. Alive."

I took in a deep breath. Wasn't Lau locked up in the MCU? There's no way Joker could easily get to him. I sighed after a few seconds and said, "Alright. I'll pass the word on," turning around and walking to the buzzer.

"Bye doll," I heard him say as I exited the room and clenched my jaw tightly. He was a bigger fucking asshole than The Joker himself.