Part of the Plan.

Currently.

"Okay, so you remember the plan, right?" the Joker asked in his insidious voice.

The man nodded, not in the mood to speak.

"Well, I've got something you need to... add to that. See," he spoke, placing his arm around the shoulders of the man, "the more men we have at the end of the job, the less of a cut each of us is going to get." He licked his lips. "After the safe-cracker does his job," he paused for effect, "wouldn't it just make sense to.. eliminate him?"

The man seemed to think it over, but found himself nodding in agreement.

The Joker, too, nodded, pleased with his plan.

"Well, you're going to have a gun, so that shouldn't be an issue." He grinned and slapped the man's back. "Don't let me down," he added darkly.

The Joker's grin grew and a snicker escaped his lips. He walked from the room and down the hallway. Echoing in his mind were the words of the woman.

"This city deserves a better class of criminal. Who better to give it to them? Who else is going to be their Saviour, their Agent of Chaos? Humans are vile creatures, losing all respect and resorting to basic instinct in desperate times. One day, they're dressed in their business suit attire working jobs they hate to make money to buy things they don't need. A bomb explodes and they push over the older office workers, striving to only save themselves. Instill the anarchy! Upset the established order! It has to be done, and you're the perfect man for the job."

At the time, he didn't understand why she had said what she did. Later, when she hinted for him to play with the Batman, he would understand what she had meant.

It didn't make sense. It seemed so odd for somebody to be able to read into him so easily. Everything she's said has all been hidden in his subconscious, just waiting to escape into the world. She was his catalyst. But the one thing he hated was when he found himself repeating her words to another.

Again, he took comfort in the possibility that she was in his imagination. Perhaps this was his subconscious' way of getting these things out to him. The Joker didn't do much self-reflection; he saw it as pointless. With someone's past as fucked up as his, it only makes sense. He's told so many stories over the years, even he can't remember which are false and which are true.

He was walking mindlessly down the alleyways, but came to a stop as he realized where he had arrived.

That building.

The building.

Was it on purpose? Or was it unintentional? Was it his subconscious trying to get him to meet with the woman?

He rolled his eyes as he began to make his way into the abandoned ediface. He walked up the steps and arrived at his floor. The atmosphere seemed different in the daylight. He saw the woman sitting on her usual box, looking out of the unfinished walls to the city skyline across the river.

Hearing footsteps, the woman turned around, a nervous expression on her face. Seeing it was only her playmate, she visibly relaxed and smiled.

"Welcome back. You don't usually show up during the day," she said.

The Joker walked past her to his usual spot on the edge of the floor.

"I wasn't aware you wasted your days waiting for me," he grumbled.

A huge grin spread across her face.

"Oh, I'd only do it for you, babe," she said semi-sarcastically.

The Joker chose to let that comment slide, allowing a moment of silence to pass.

The woman was going to have none of that.

"So, I'm guessing you've already started scheming?" she asked, a certain knowing twinkle in her eye.

He turned his head, making eye contact with the woman. How had she known? His mind swarmed with the possibilities, causing him to have an argument inside his head. It all lead back to one question.

He couldn't take it anymore. All this overanalyzing was going to kill him. He walked over to a nearby box and sat down. He looked over to his companion.

"Are you real?"

A pensive look appeared on the woman's face. She seemed to think it over very seriously. After a while, she eventually responded.

"Do you think I'm real?"

The Joker smirked, "It's hard to tell, really, but I don't think you are."

For a moment she looked puzzled.

"Do you have any logic behind that claim?"

The Joker's smirk grew wider. He held up a finger to emphasize his words.

"Yes, I do. I have quite a few, actually."

The woman nodded as she placed her elbow on her knee and rested her head upon her hand.

"A) I'm already insane, so being schizophrenic wouldn't come as much surprise."

She nodded, agreeing.

"B) You only show up when I'm completely alone with no chance of others being around."

Speaking to herself, she mumbled, "Well, that is true," before returning to listening intently.

"C) You always seem to know what I'm thinking, even when well-trained psychologists couldn't even begin to comprehend my thought processes."

She sat up straight and pointed at the Joker, a serious expression on her face.

"That one's mainly luck," she declared, returning to her previous position.

"D," the Joker continued, ignoring her last comment, "you just disappear. People can't do that." He paused. "I could go on, but I feel I've proven myself."

She nodded, thinking very deeply about what was said.

"All valid reasons." She shrugged. "Guess I'm not real, then."

He narrowed his eyes, "You just agreed."

She nodded. The Joker was growing annoyed.

"So you're not real?" he asked again.

She blinked, seemingly obliviously.

"No."

The Joker shut his eyes in defeat. He rubbed his face with both of his hands, smearing his make-up. He took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

"Well, that's evidence that you are real. The schizo's visions always claim they're real. If you're saying you're not, you probably are real."

He removed his hands from his face, finding the woman's very close to his own, staring at him with a cheshire cat grin.

"Or," she spoke, not moving her face from its proximity, "perhaps I knew you'd come to that conclusion, so I proposed that, knowing you'd assume I was real."

The Joker's eyes drifted from hers to the floor and eventually back to her gaze. He grinned.

"You're good."

Wearing a smirk, she stood upright, looking down at her pawn. "Well, if I'm not real, it's all you, babe."

Still donning his grin, he, too, stood up.

Letting out a desperate, spine-chilling chuckle, he spoke.

"Why do you do this to me?"

She held her ground. Her smirk was still on her face, but her eyes changed. They lost their spark, their essence, but they gained a dark intensity.

"How does it feel?" she asked, attempting her game again.

He chuckled again.

"Oh, no, no, no, my dear," he said, placing his hands violently on the sides her face, forcing her to look up at him, "we're not going there this time. Tell me, or else I'll become very angry. Hey, look at me!" He put more pressure on her face, but she remained stolid. Her eyes seemed to have lost their liveliness, yet they were filled with so much passion. Could a figment of his imagination seem this complex? Could a real human being's eyes ever be that empty?

Something beeped, breaking his concentration.

He continued holding and staring into her face. He was extremely interested considering this was the first time he'd ever gotten a close look at this intriguing character. Her eyes. Her eyes were so familiar. Her eyebrow twitched, catching his attention.

Her voice quickly stole it.

"That question," she began, speaking fairly slowly, "is for another time. For now, I must leave."

She placed her hands on top of his on her face. The Joker sighed and rolled his eyes, removing his grip. She dropped her hands to her side and gave her signature smirk. Without warning, she blew a short burst of air into his face, causing him to shut his eyes. He heard her chuckle and opened a single eye, seeing her walk away and disappear into the darkness of the building. He realized this was the first time he'd ever seen her depart. Perhaps.. she was real.

He sighed and thought back to her blowing in his face.

"With every visit," he thought, "it keeps getting stranger."