SANITY IS RELATIVE, Chapter Nine: 'The Return'

The Return

Kitty Liz had been lying awake in the back of the Chevrolet for what felt like hours now. The grey morning light illuminated the inside of the car, and Kitty Liz could see the top of the Joker's green head showing just above the back of the driver's seat in front of her. She could tell it was still very early in the morning, and the Joker appeared to be asleep. The cause of her sudden insomnia was a continuous stream of thought which simply would not give her peace. The subject of her pondering? Yesterday's developments. She could not get over the fact the Joker would come up with such an elaborate lie and all for the sake of what? Lying? It did not make sense. Ever since she woke up at the break of dawn, curiosity had been killing her. Why lie? What was there to hide? And, most importantly, what was the truth? She just could not put the matter to rest. The Joker knew everything about her, and yet she knew nothing about him. He had not said a single word about what made him the way he was. If only he had given her something. A single clue. Anything.

Kitty Liz suddenly gasped, her eyes growing wide. The Joker had given her something. Maybe he even meant to give it to her. It was only a brief remark, but it was definitely a hint. Hamilton Hill. The Joker said he did not die from a heart attack, and Kitty Liz now wanted to know how the Joker knew that.

With a plan in mind, Kitty Liz sat up in the back seat and pulled her blanket off of herself. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she pulled on her shoes and opened the car door. Having slipped outside and carefully shut the door behind her, she made her way to the back of the cave, shivering in the cold morning air. She picked up her purse from the pile of belongings which she and the Joker had removed from the Chevy yesterday, and left the cave with it. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the sky was grey and the wind was still rocking the river waters. Kitty Liz knelt on the pebbles at the water's edge and carefully pulled off her gloves and mask. She slipped them into her purse, then drew up some water in her hands and washed her face, making sure to remove all of the black paint from around her eyes and the black lipstick from her mouth. Next, she removed all of the accessories from her hair and also placed them inside her purse. Finally, she took out a small pocket mirror and checked to make sure she looked perfectly… normal.

Satisfied with the results, Kitty Liz returned to the cave, where she directed her attention once again to the pile of belongings. Having set her purse down on top of a box, she dug out a pair of sneakers, a pair of jeans, a pair of socks, a sweater, and her winter coat. She then unsheathed her knives and removed her guns from her belt, and placed them all inside a plastic bag for safekeeping. All she had to do now was put on the civilian clothing and she would be set to go. She pulled on the jeans and sweater over the suit she was already wearing, then took off her shoes and put on the socks and sneakers. She stuffed her shoes inside the bag with the weapons. Finally, she put on her coat, hung her purse on her shoulder, and proceeded to roll her Vespa out of the shadows. But as she turned to face the entrance of the cave, she found someone watching her.

"Going somewhere?" the Joker asked, looking at her with an amused expression on his face. He was standing in front of the Impala, leaning on it casually.

Kitty Liz froze in her tracks; she was not prepared for this.

"This isn't what it looks like…." she began.

"Oh, yeah?" the Joker asked, raising an eyebrow, his lips breaking into a sprawling smile. "And what does it look like?"

"Me… leaving," Kitty Liz replied hesitantly.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," the Joker said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're not going anywhere anymore." His smile suddenly turned ominous. "If, however, you have somewhere you need to be… today, I won't stop you. It's just that I had such a fun day planned for us…. We were going to find a new apartment.… I thought you'd want to have a say in what we choose, you know?"

"You can pick it!" she sputtered quickly. "I don't mind! I'll be happy with whatever you choose."

"Is that so?" the Joker asked, his smile intensifying. "And how will you know where to find me?"

"I'll call you!" Kitty Liz exclaimed, nodding quickly and pointing to her chest in reference to her tie.

"Well, alright," the Joker replied with a smirk. "But what about tonight? You haven't forgotten about Maroni, have you?"

"Of course not! I'll run my errand tonight."

"Will you now? Do you even know where you're going? What time? What you're gonna do when you get there?"

"I have a good idea of what I'm going to say to him… but I do need to know when and where."

The Joker crossed his arms and looked at Kitty Liz smugly. "This is Maroni's second day back on the streets. I'm assuming the first day he spent with his wife, out of… obligation. But he will have to meet with his vermin sooner or later, and I'm guessing sooner rather than later. Tonight. He will do it tonight. Here's the address of the warehouse where they usually meet." The Joker took a slip of paper and a sharpened pencil out of his pocket, laid the paper on top of the car, and wrote down the address. "As for the time, I ain't so sure. He might still be frightened by the Batman, or he might think he's one of them now. Somehow, I don't see him holding the get-together in the middle of the day, but not in the middle of the night either. Be there at 10:00 PM. You'll be bound to catch him then, at whatever stage of the meeting."

"Will do," Kitty Liz replied with a nod. She rolled her Vespa up to the Chevy and took the piece of paper from the Joker. "I left my weapons and my shoes in a plastic bag back there," she said, pointing to the back of the cave. "Could you leave it behind so I can grab it later?"

"Of course."

"I hope I don't die tonight," Kitty Liz said with a sudden giggle.

"Don't worry," the Joker replied, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. "If Maroni catches you, he'll keep you alive for a long, long time."

Kitty Liz pretended to look sure of herself as she stuffed the paper with the address into her pocket, waved an awkward goodbye, and proceeded to guide her scooter out of the cave and onto the pebbles. Although she felt tremendously excited about her upcoming mission, she was equally aware of the danger the Joker was putting her in. Nevertheless, apprehension was not her order of business at the moment, so she swept the negative thoughts to the back of her head, pushed her Vespa onto the dock, mounted it, and was soon speeding down the wet pavement.

*             *            *

One cup of coffee, one tank of gas, and one hour later, Kitty Liz arrived at the Gotham Public Library. She did not particularly enjoy exposing herself to the public like this, but she was dealing with a matter she had to get to the bottom of. Isolating herself in the far corner of the computer section, she picked a computer and typed "Hamilton Hill" into the search engine. She was not sure what she was looking for, but she wanted to refresh her memory of the mayor's reported death, and perhaps pick up on some inconsistency or another.

She was startled by her own ignorance as she quickly found out today was actually the one-year anniversary of Hill's death. Of course, the developments of the past few days seemed to her an acceptable excuse to have lost track of history. As she kept reading, she was discouraged by the fact that every article, news report, and discussion board seemed to recall the story just as she remembered it: Hamilton Hill died from a heart attack in his penthouse late on March 9^th, 2008. Disappointed, she gave up on the clearly not all-knowing Internet.

After taking a few minutes to simply sit and think, she decided to try her luck at another media resource - newspapers. Gotham Public Library had the largest online collection of newspapers in the entire city, including scans of not only major papers like the Gotham Times, but also smaller community-based newspapers. Kitty Liz typed the words "Hamilton Hill" and "death" into the keywords section and hit search. Within seconds, she was swarmed with results nearly identical to the ones she found online - front-page articles and obituaries, but not one mention of the Joker. Beginning to lose hope again, Kitty Liz continued clicking away at the articles, but then she noticed something a little out of place. It was another obituary for Hamilton Hill, written the day following the discovery of his body, but it was not a front-page article or even a top story. It was short and nondescript, placed in the common obituary section of the Riverside Community Journal along with the obituaries of Riverside community members. Kitty Liz had heard of that neighbourhood and its high poverty rate, which explained why the editor of the paper did not bother drawing much attention to the death of the mayor who had neglected his fellow neighbours his entire career. Kitty Liz skimmed over the page absent-mindedly, noting the mayor's fellow decedents, until a photo caught her eye. The photograph was of a smiling young man standing with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of an older woman, whom Kitty Liz guessed to be his mother. Though the photo was black and white, Kitty Liz could tell the man had blond hair. She leaned in toward the computer monitor and stared closely at his face, but in a moment she had withdrawn with a gasp. She recognized his eyes, those bright brown eyes she was helpless against, and knew for a fact whom they belonged to. The picture was included in the obituary of one Jack Napier, age 28. The obituary went as follows:

"This is my son. He was an ambitious young man who made the best of what he had and never let go of his dreams. He asked the city for a favor and got heartlessly shut down in return. I blame the city for this.

"I will miss you, Jack, and I will always love you.

"Your mother, Mary."

Kitty Liz had to simply sit and stare for a few moments as she tried to fully understand what she was seeing. Clearly, the Joker, Jack Napier, was not dead, but perhaps if the last night his mother had seen him alive was also the last night Mayor Hill was seen alive, then whatever happened to change the Joker from the smiling youth he was in the picture to the grinning monster he was now could very well have happened then. One thing Kitty Liz knew for certain - the answer to her question was not going to be found here.

A quick Whitepages search for Mary Napier yielded one result, at 42 River Road. Not wanting to waste a single moment, Kitty Liz looked up driving directions, printed them out, and left the library. She jumped on her scooter and was off. Twenty minutes later, she realized she was actually beginning to recognize her surroundings, but for the life of her she could not remember when she had been here. Then it hit her. The abandoned buildings, the rundown alleyways - she had been here the time she and the Joker spent the night on the streets. She remembered him calling this part of town closer to home, and she finally understood why. He grew up here.

A couple of minutes later, Kitty Liz was driving down River Road, with Gotham River on her right and old townhouses on her left. She was counting down the numbers anxiously. As of right now, she had no idea what she would say to this woman, how she would introduce herself, or what she would tell her about her son. Nevertheless, she soon pulled into the driveway of 42 River Road and parked her scooter. She knew she was in the right place as a sign on the front door read, "MARY NAPIER: SEAMSTRESS."

Kitty Liz approached the door nervously, took a deep breath, and knocked. She heard approaching footsteps on the other side and a moment later was face to face with an older woman aged around fifty or sixty. She was very small and thin in stature, had blonde, greying hair, clear blue eyes, and there were wrinkles on her face that could only express kindness.

"You're here about my boy," she said with a smile.

Kitty Liz froze on the spot, taken utterly by surprise. Of course, this did save her the trouble of explaining to the poor woman who she was and what had become of her son.

"You know who I am," Kitty Liz stated.

"Well, of course. You're the lawyer from the TV… and the girl who robbed the bank with my son yesterday."

Kitty Liz felt gravely disappointed. "Surely my disguise was more effective than that…?"

"I've learned not to underestimate Jack, my dear, and I suggest you do the same. I know he can be very… persuasive with people, and could easily convince even an active defender of the law like yourself to join him. Now, would you like to come in?"

"You don't know me…." Kitty Liz muttered under her breath, but nevertheless followed Mary into her home. Evidence of Mary's work was all over the house - sewing machines, articles of clothing waiting to be repaired or picked up, boxes of thread, scissors, needles, thimbles, rolls of fabric. Framed photographs hung of the walls, of Mary and Jack, though Jack's father was nowhere to be seen. Mary led Kitty Liz into the dining room, where it appeared she did most of her work.

"Would you like a cup of tea and a biscuit?" Mary asked.

It was at that moment that Kitty Liz realized just how hungry she was. "Two sugars, please," she replied.

Mary disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, then returned with the food she had promised. She set it down on the dining table. "If you don't mind, I would like to continue my work while we talk," she said.

"By all means," Kitty Liz replied, and she and Mary sat down at the table.

"So, Catherine -" Mary began, taking a torn dress and beginning to repair it using the sewing machine on the table in front of her.

"Please call me Kitty Liz," Kitty Liz corrected her automatically.

"Alright, Kitty Liz. I am assuming my son had told you nothing of his true past and that is the reason you are here."

"Yes, it is. Mrs. Napier, if I may ask -"

Now it was Mary's turn to interrupt. "You can call me Mary, dear," she said.

"Mary… how is it you know your son is alive and yet you wrote his obituary for the Riverside Community Journal?"

"Because, dear, I went through a period of time during which I thought he really was dead. But then I saw footage of him with green hair and sporting that terrible smile of his, and I knew my prayers had been answered, though not in the manner I had hoped they would be."

Kitty Liz took a bite out of her biscuit. "You recognized him… underneath all that makeup?"

"How could I not, dear? He is my son."

"But you didn't come forward to the police, not even after seeing what he has become?"

"More than anything, I wished Jack would turn himself in or get arrested… but I could not betray him. I could not do that to my own flesh and blood."

"Mary… I need you to answer this honestly, for it is the reason I came…. Did Jack kill Hamilton Hill?"

"I do not know, dear," Mary replied, an expression of frustration now coming over her face, "and trust me when I say that very question has been keeping me up every night this past year."

"Then tell me everything you do know."

"Alright, but I am afraid it is not much. As you may have surmised, Jack grew up here. His father left when I was pregnant, so we lived alone. We did not have much money, never did. I have been a seamstress my entire life and Jack had been helping me ever since he was a little boy. Even though I had no money to send him to college, that did not stop him from holding on to his dream. It is quite a coincidence, really, that he wanted to be a lawyer just like you -"

"The Joker?" Kitty Liz spat without thinking. "A lawyer?"

"You did not know him back then, dear. He was very gifted in his way with people, and he was a good man. He never would have abandoned me if I had not convinced him to pursue his dream. He was 28 years old and still working as a seamstress's assistant. I could bear no longer seeing him like that. I did not want him to end up nowhere in life like I had, so I told him to take matters into his own hands. I told him to go to the mayor himself and ask for a grant or loan for his education. We had a powerful tool on our side - our community paper. Jack and I wrote for it regularly, and we would have written about the mayor's response, whether positive or negative. We trusted the mayor would keep that in mind, given our neighborhood's disdain for the way he ran things. So Jack pulled strings, scheduled a meeting with the mayor, and that was when it all began. His meeting was scheduled for the night the mayor was murdered. Before he left at six o'clock, I fixed his tie, wished him good luck, and kissed him goodbye. That was the last time I saw my son."

"If that was the last you saw of him, why didn't you just report him missing? Why automatically assume he was dead?"

"Because, dear, after Jack left that night, I went to the grocery store to get us some wine and some cake in case we were celebrating. When I came home a couple of hours later, I found the back door had been left open. There was a trail of blood leading from the door to the bathroom. In the bathroom, I found blood spattered all over the mirror as well as pooled in the sink and on the counter. My sewing tools were scattered everywhere - scissors, needles, rolls of thread, all covered in blood. I followed the blood trail outside, across the back yard, and down a path that runs behind this row of townhouses, until finally a block down it led across the road and onto an old pier on the river. That is where it stopped. All that lay ahead were the deep churning waters, and that is when I had assumed the worst. I thought Jack was denied the money and it had tipped him over the edge. I thought he had killed himself. Of course, it was not until next morning that I realized one of my knives was missing. It was the smallest one I had, a potato peeler. That is also when I knew the mayor had been murdered."

"Why is that?"

"That is when the police showed up, dear, at the break of dawn, along with those crime scene investigators or what have you. Not that I had not been awake the whole night regardless. They told me Jack was a suspect, but they would not tell me what he was suspected of. They did not have a warrant, but since they refused to cooperate, so did I."

"You didn't tell them you thought your son had committed suicide? You didn't hope they'd recover his body?"

"These people have done nothing for this community for as long as I have lived here, so I was not expecting anything else from them in regards to Jack's disappearance."

"Fair enough. But how did you find out about the mayor? And why did you notice the missing knife?"

"The crime scene investigators were adamant about seeing my collection of knives, so I made a deal with them, saying I would allow them to take my knives in exchange for information. That is when they told me they were investigating Mayor Hill's murder and that my son was one of the last people to see him alive. I asked what they had on him, and they said they knew about his meeting with the mayor. But they also said witnesses reported him both entering City Hall for the meeting and then leaving half an hour later. By all accounts, the mayor was still alive and well at that point. Seeing as they had nothing, I went ahead and gave them my knives. That is when I noticed the potato peeler was missing, though I did not think much of it at the time, let alone bother to mention it to the policemen. I got my knives back later that day; just as I had expected, they were clean."

"And…?"

"And what, dear?"

"What happened next?"

"Two months later I saw Jack on the TV interrogating a Batman impostor. But you already know that story."

"But the mayor? You truly don't know if he killed him?"

"I never said I did. Why is that so important for you to know anyway?"

"Because I need to know the truth!" Kitty Liz cried out, frustrated. "I need to know what made him the way he is!"

"Wouldn't we all, dear?"

Kitty Liz fell silent, realizing she had clearly reached a dead end. After a moment, she sighed and got up from the table. "Thanks for the tea and all your help, Mary," she said to the seamstress.

Mary nodded and got up from the table as well. She walked Kitty Liz to the front door.

"This conversation," Kitty Liz began as she stopped in the doorway, "I trust it will remain secret between us?"

"Keeping secrets is what I do, dear," Mary replied with a plaintive smile.

Kitty Liz nodded in understanding, then walked through the door and began making her way down the driveway.

"Oh, Kitty Liz?" Mary suddenly called after her.

Kitty Liz spun around. "Yes?"

"Take care of him for me, dear."

Kitty Liz did not say anything. She could not for the life of her think of a reason the Joker could not take care of himself. Nevertheless, wishing not to disappoint Mary, she gave her a quick nod and a smile, and was on her way.

*             *            *

It was 9:45 PM and Kitty Liz had been observing Salvatore Maroni's warehouse for nearly an hour. After retrieving her belongings from the Joker's now vacated cave, she had changed into her gear, put on her makeup, and parked her scooter in an alley one block down the road, making sure to hide it between two dumpsters and cover it with cardboard so it would not get stolen. Since then, she had been scouring the area, keeping an eye on the people going into the warehouse, locating entry points, and figuring out all possible escape routes. Unfortunately for her, she had found only one accessible entry and exit point - the main door - which meant she had nothing more to rely on than the element of surprise.

An inconspicuous silver SUV pulled into the warehouse parking lot. Kitty Liz watched Maroni exit the vehicle, accompanied by two of his thugs. He still had a very noticeable limp to his gait and was using a cane, but even so Kitty Liz could sense the air of power around him. She watched him and his thugs go into the warehouse, and when ten minutes later nobody else had arrived, Kitty Liz realized it was time to go in.

Trying to stay within the shadows of the buildings, she made her way to the warehouse. To her advantage, it was surrounded by total darkness. Suddenly feeling slightly more confident, she marched up to the heavy metal door and slowly pulled it open, but just enough for her to squeeze through. What lay beyond was a short dimly-lit corridor which turned at a ninety degree angle, concealing what lay ahead. Tentatively, Kitty Liz crept down the passage. As she rounded the bend, however, she came to a complete and total stop.

There, leaning casually against the wall in front of a set of open double doors and looking bored out of his mind, stood a rather big and weathered thug. It only took him a second to notice her, and though at first he looked utterly confused to see her, an ugly smile soon spread over his lips.

"Ooh, girl, I know Maroni likes 'em weird, but looks like your daddy really went out of his way to please tonight, eh?" the thug said, eyeing her up and down and walking up to her with a little dance in his step. Kitty Liz shied away from him uncomfortably. "Too bad you're about two hours early, but don't worry, honey, I won't tell your pimp about your lil' mess-up here; in fact, I'll even give you somethin' to do in the meantime, eh?"

Kitty Liz's level of discomfort about tripled as she realized what was going on.

"You think I'm a…?" the began, but never quite got to "prostitute" as she suddenly found the thug had backed her up against a wall.

"Come on, honey. Give daddy a lil' sugar," the thug said, pressing up against her. "Just be quiet for me."

The thug ran his hands down Kitty Liz's back, across her waist, down to her hips, and lower still. For a moment, Kitty Liz found herself in a state of confused shock, but only for a moment. The next moment, she had swung her arm around and punched the thug in the side of the head. Hitting him in the temple, she knocked him out cold, and he collapsed to the floor.

Slightly disoriented from surprise at the unexpected success of her own self-defense, Kitty Liz backed away down the hallway and soon enough had backed through the open double doors. The metal detector which she then unknowingly walked through reacted with an ungodly sound of deafening ringing and beeping, and the room which she had backed into fell uncomfortably silent. Kitty Liz turned on the spot with baited breath, and the sight which then met her eyes was possibly the worst she could have ever imagined. Only a few feet away from her stood a long conference table, on either side of which sat some of the most prominent members of Gotham mafia, many of whom Kitty Liz had had on trial herself, and across from her, at the far end of the table, sat Salvatore Maroni himself. The eyes of eleven of the city's most dangerous men were now fixed unfalteringly on her. It was at times like these that she hoped nothing more than for her disguise to do its job.

Maroni bluntly broke the silence: "You're early."

Kitty Liz did her best to keep herself from gaping. Even Maroni thought she was a hooker? She felt her blood begin to boil in embarrassment, and quickly decided to seriously reconsider her choice of outfit. Then again, she could use this development to get close to Maroni, and to get to him alone. All she had to do was wait around until his meeting was over and then she could deliver her message in peace. However, what if the real escort arrived before then? Kitty Liz realized that if she wanted to make full use of her accidental new disguise, she would have to do it now.

"Oops," Kitty Liz said as sweetly and innocently as possible, disguising her accent into that of a southerner. "I'm sorreh, mistah, but I tell ya what - if ya don't tell mah daddeh I can't tell tha time, I'll treat ya to a whole extra hour, free of charge." She locked eyes with Maroni and stepped lightly toward the conference table. Placing her delicately-gloved hands on top of the polished pine, she leaned forward slightly, hoping the tops of her breasts were now exposed. Judging by the fact Maroni's eyes were now focused on a spot some distance below her face, she was fairly confident she had succeeded. She smiled smugly, but her smile soon faded as she became conscious of the fact she was stalling. What the hell was she supposed to do now? All she knew was she either had to do something drastic or do nothing at all.

She chose to do something drastic.

In a fluid movement which she in her nervousness almost failed to carry through, she hoisted herself onto the table and stood up. The men around her leaned back in their chairs, wide-eyed. Some were gaping. Maroni's expression, however, became immediately guarded. Taking it as a sign that she should proceed with her plan as quickly as possible, Kitty Liz strutted down the table, treating it like a model would treat a catwalk. Except she was not a model, and her audience were a dozen or so mobsters with loaded guns in their pants. The knowledge of this only added to her discomfort, and her fear of slipping up increased exponentially. Almost too quickly, she had reached the end of the table. Maroni sat looking up at her, his eyebrows twisted in a questioning line at the base of his forehead. Now what? she asked herself. She took a quick note of everything she had to work with: Maroni's chair was big and black, one of those expensive office chairs with wheels; his cane leaned against the table in front of him, which told her he was still recovering from the injuries sustained in the car accident, which meant, she thought hopefully, he was at least somewhat less dangerous than before. That was when an idea sprang spontaneously into her mind. The idea was insane, possibly deadly, and it made Kitty Liz sick to the stomach just thinking about it. Nevertheless, she went ahead and sat down on the edge of the table in front of Maroni, putting her feet on his chair. She leaned into his face, gripping the chair's armrests tightly with her hands. Maroni smelled of cigar smoke and expensive cologne.

"Who do ya want me to be today?" Kitty Liz breathed. "A vigilante come to take ya away?"

She slid off the table and into Maroni's lap, slipping her legs underneath the armrests until her feet were touching the floor. She half-expected Maroni to shoot her right then and there, but out of nowhere he grinned at her sleazily. Kitty Liz gave him her cockiest smile back.

"Let's go for a ride," she said in a sugary voice, then turned around briefly and used her hands to push herself, the chair, and Maroni away from table. She made sure to push with a twist, so that the chair made half a turn on its stand as it rolled away and was now facing away from the table. It came to a stop against a wall ten feet away and Kitty Liz finally found herself sharing a private moment with Maroni. She pulled out her smallest knife and had it pressed to his neck faster than the nasty smile could fade from his face.

"Don't say a word," she whispered, her voice now cold and threatening. Maroni's eyes grew wide at the contact of steel against skin, but he hardly breathed, let alone talked. Kitty Liz knew the back of his chair hid them from the eyes of his trigger-happy friends, so she felt she was relatively safe for now. "Thank you," she said softly as Maroni continued to hold his tongue. "Now we can get to business. I must admit I don't know how you don't know who I am, though I suppose you have been spending a lot of time at the hospital lately, so maybe you haven't been watching too much TV. Though I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. Before you do, however, I'd like to relay a little message. Stay away from the Joker. You have betrayed him once, and he won't tolerate it again. If he so much as sees you, he'll kill you. This I can guarantee you, so please consider it before you decide to go after me. Do you understand?"

Maroni nodded his agreement gingerly, and Kitty Liz smiled, adding just a little more force to the knife at his neck. Her mission was complete. Now was the time to get out of here. But she suddenly felt as she had when she first entered the room - not knowing where to go next. Then, however, it hit her, though this time everything depended on speed and surprise.

Not giving Maroni a single hint of her imminent departure, she pulled her legs out from underneath the armrests and got by far into the least comfortable position she had ever been in. She raised her legs, bending them at the knee, until the soles of her feet were pressed against the top of the back of Maroni's chair on either side of his head. Maroni's eyes grew wider yet, but still he did not make a sound.

"Your wife is one lucky woman," Kitty Liz said, her voice thick with hatred and sarcasm. She then pulled the knife away from Maroni's throat, and even as he opened his mouth to order her to be taken off of him and shot immediately, she pushed as hard as she could with her feet at the back of his chair. It toppled, taking him down with it. Kitty Liz, however, was prepared. When the back of the chair had hit the ground, she dove forward, and within a split second was underneath the conference table, crawling toward the exit between the rows of feet on either side of her.

"SHOOT HER," she heard Maroni shout, and there was sudden commotion above her. She saw the mobsters getting out of their chairs; some of their faces peered beneath the table, but they were too late. She had already reached the other end and was sprinting toward the metal detector. She heard shots fired behind her - all misses. She was through the metal detector, which caused a whining like a crashing plane. All she had to do now was make it down the corridor, but she knew by then she would surely get shot. Then a lifeline made himself visible: the thug whom Kitty Liz had punched on her way in had regained consciousness and was now standing in the middle of the hallway with his back to her, rubbing his head and looking altogether lost. Hearing more shots fired, Kitty Liz quickly threw her arm around the brute's neck and spun him around. His colleagues did not react fast enough to stop firing, and in a moment he was riddled with holes and quite dead. That is when the other thugs realized what they had done and ceased fire, but by then Kitty Liz was already letting go of the guard and rounding the bend in the hallway. Six more running steps and she was out the main door.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE," Maroni bellowed at his fellow crime lords. "GO AFTER HER!"

All eleven criminals piled out of the warehouse and onto the pitch-black street. Maroni ordered them to search between the surrounding buildings, knowing Kitty Liz could not have gotten far. They searched for half an hour, but found nothing. Eventually, Maroni called them back to the meeting. They talked in detail about what had just happened, shared their communal hatred of the Joker, and planned what would be done to him if he were to be caught. Afterwards, they packed Big D into a black body bag, cleaned up the mess he left behind, and two of them drove off to dispose of his body. The rest, including Maroni, soon left as well. That is when Kitty Liz finally emerged from her hiding spot.

She had been hiding in the window well outside the warehouse's main door. It was several feet deep, and having curled up in a ball at the very bottom of it, Kitty Liz was able to keep out of sight. Her black suit and ebony hair had made her indistinguishable from the darkness.

With the danger passed, she climbed out of the well. She checked her watch - it was now midnight. It had rained while she was hiding, another factor which had undoubtedly facilitated her concealment, but it was warm and quiet now, and the streets were deserted. She could not believe her escape tactic had worked. As she walked in the direction of her scooter, she inhaled lungful of sweet air in great relief, laughing happily at her own ingenuity.

As she rounded the corner of the alley where she had parked her scooter, her jubilation was brought to a sudden stop. A shadow had dropped seemingly straight out of the sky and now stood in her path. The cape and cowl were unmistakable.

"Batman," Kitty Liz whispered.

"Catherine Elizabeth Francis," Batman rumbled in response.

Kitty Liz was surprised by how little fear she felt. "I see the great Batman has figured it out," she said simply.

"Surrender now, Catherine," Batman replied gruffly. "You can still return to the life you had."

"And what makes you think I want to return?" Kitty Liz demanded. She was stalling, mulling over her options in her head. It all boiled down to fight or flight. She could run, but outrunning the Batman seemed unlikely. She could fight, make her way past him to her scooter and escape that way, but overpowering him seemed just as improbable. Then, however, Batman said something which made her decision for her:

"I don't want to hurt you, Miss Francis."

"That's funny," Kitty Liz replied. "That's exactly the opposite of how I feel about you." Suddenly, she burst forward, moving as though she wanted to attack Batman. Batman braced himself for the upcoming impact, but at the last moment Kitty Liz dropped to the ground and slid feet-first across the wet pavement underneath Batman's legs, like a baseball player desperately trying to score a run. She had made it to the other side and leaped back onto her feet with a satisfied cackle, but then felt a hand grab the back of her shirt and lift her quite effortlessly into the air.

"Wake up," Batman growled into her back. "You know this isn't your life."

"You don't know me," Kitty Liz hissed seethingly, unsheathing one of her knives. She twisted around in midair and tried to plunge the knife into Batman's arm, but it glanced off of his armour, causing her to lose her grip on its handle. Before the knife had hit the ground, she had unsheathed another. This time, she jammed the blade into the softer fabric in the elbow joint of Batman's suit. She was fairly sure she did not strike skin, but the pain was enough for Batman to lose his grip on her and to recoil his arm, simultaneously setting her free and wrenching the knife out of her hand.

Finding her feet back on solid ground, Kitty Liz made a mighty burst forward, but Batman was quicker. He wrapped his arm around her neck, trapping her in an inescapable headlock, but she knew she still had three knives left on her belt. She grabbed a small one with a serrated edge and dragged it along Batman's armoured wrist. This achieved nothing, and Batman used his spare hand to wrench the knife out of hers and throw it to the ground.

"It's over, Kitty Liz," he rumbled into her ear.

"Is it?" Kitty Liz asked in response, then in a lightning-fast motion took the smallest knife from her belt and lashed out at where she assumed Batman's face would be. The blade mostly struck his mask, but with an ounce of luck she managed to catch his chin. Batman drew back in agony, freeing Kitty Liz for an instant, but the next instant he had delivered a well-aimed punch to her wrist, knocking the knife out of her fingers. She shook her hand and rubbed her wrist in pain and frustration, then greeted her assailant with a storm of punches and kicks. Her attack proved completely futile, so she bolted. Behind her, she heard the whine of unwinding cable, the swoosh of leathery cloak, and suddenly Batman had alighted before her once more. With a furious snarl, Kitty Liz unsheathed her last, largest knife, and lunged blade-first at him. Batman easily blocked her strike, then grabbed her from behind, taking a hold of her wrists and crossing her arms over her chest until she could move no longer.

"You're going down, Miss Francis. You have to accept this."

For a moment, Kitty Liz almost did. But then she remembered she was not through her arsenal of weapons just yet. Kicking the left side of her right shoe against the pavement, she made a blade pop out the back of her sole. With all her force, she drove her heel into Batman's right knee, managing to lodge the blade underneath his knee guard. She heard a roar erupt from his throat and felt herself being pushed about six feet away. She barely stayed on her feet, but with a wicked grin she caught herself and deployed the rest of her shoe blades. As Batman tried desperately to repair his knee guard, Kitty Liz was upon him in a fury of well-aimed kicks. She was disappointed, however, to discover that he was able to use his cloak quite successfully as a shield. The material it was made from was extraordinarily tough and smooth, so her blows glanced off of it more than anything. Suddenly, however, she had an idea. She pulled out the two jagged thin blades hidden in her hair, and tore toward Batman with them in her hand, but instead of going for his body, she went for his cloak. In her previous attack, she had backed Batman up against a wall, and right behind him there was now a window with a wooden frame. Holding the blades in her right hand, she caught Batman's cloak with the other and held it against the frame. Then she drove both blades through the cloak and into the frame, the serrated metal piercing the soft wood several inches deep. She grinned at Batman smugly, then started toward her scooter.

She could tell from the sounds of struggling behind her that Batman could not get his cloak free. He was tethered to the window like a dog on a leash. Smirking to herself, she pulled the cardboard off of her Vespa and rolled it out from between the two dumpsters.

There was a clink of metal on the pavement behind her.

She turned around just in time to see a small grenade rattle its way toward her and lodge itself underneath her scooter's front tire. With a moment's notice on her hands, she dove behind the nearest dumpster.

Kitty Liz knew the grenade went off just as Batman had planned it, and as she now peered around the side of the dumpster and saw the heap of twisted metal which was mere moments ago her trusty old scooter, something inside of her snapped.

Batman had finally freed himself by slicing his way through his cloak, and now stood watching her solemnly.

"You have no mode of transportation and you cannot outrun me," he told her blankly. "Surrender yourself and I'll tell the Gotham PD you came willingly. Let me help you, Miss Francis."

"Help yourself," Kitty Liz whispered, then burst from her hiding spot with her .44 Magnum revolver gripped firmly in her hands. Batman barely had time to react before she released round after round into his armour. One clapped against his leg and another against his shoulder; the other four hit him squarely in the chest. Winded, Batman doubled over and nearly collapsed, but was able to keep himself on his feet by resting one hand on the pavement in front of him. Kitty Liz's handgun pointedly clicked the emptiness of its barrel, and she realized her escape had to be now or never. Holstering her pistol and pulling out her grapnel gun instead, she fired the cartridge off onto the nearest rooftop. She waited until the hooks caught on some protrusion or another atop the roof, gave the cable a few strength-testing tugs, then clipped herself in and pushed the clicker atop the grip of the gun upwards. Immediately, the mechanism inside the gun began winding up the cable, simultaneously carrying her skyward along the wall. She pushed against the bricks with her feet to speed up the process.

The spidery grappling cables which shot out of Batman's grapnel gun bounced and ricocheted off of the wall at Kitty Liz's feet. They had magnets on their ends instead of hooks, and several cables managed to tangle themselves around Kitty Liz's ankles, the magnets attracting each other and locking Kitty Liz's legs in an inescapable embrace. She felt tension pulling at her feet and turned her head to see Batman, still crouching on the ground with one hand on the pavement, now holding and operating his grapnel gun. His cable pulled her back toward the ground. She had already passed the second floor of the building she was scaling, so she knew a fall from this height would be nasty. Her own little gun whined and groaned under the strain. It pulled slower and slower, complaining louder and louder, until finally it stalled completely. Only Batman's gun now operated with a powerful mechanical whir. The cables around Kitty Liz's ankles dug so deeply into her skin she felt tears of pain well in her eyes, and yet the force was not enough to make the cable which fastened her to the rooftop snap. Finally, however, her grapnel gun gave out a morose click as the mechanism skipped a rotation. Click. Click. Click. She felt her cable give a little slack and herself descend an inch. CLICK. The mechanism broke, the cable unwound with a frenzied whizzing and lashing, and Kitty Liz plummeted toward the ground. She landed on her feet, but because of the angle of her descent and because her ankles were tied together, keeping her balance proved impossible. She toppled backwards, hitting her head on the cold wet pavement.

*             *            *

The thud was unforgettable. It was hard to believe her own skull could have made such a sound. Crunch, then splat. It was funny, really. She would have laughed if she could have. The back of her head felt hot. Around her was the sound of people screaming, yelling. Above her, far above the rooftops and the city lights, she could see the stars. A man's terrified face suddenly appeared above hers. He stared at her for a long second, but then yelling behind him made him turn away.

"She jumped!" he yelled back, then, "I don't know! I think someone called already!"

Kitty Liz watched the man look down at her fearfully again, then back away, looking lost. Her vision was growing dim. Soon enough, she was engulfed in complete darkness. Her hearing, however, was sharper than it had ever been in her life. She could clearly hear the sound of sirens approaching, people talking in hushed voices around her. She could hear an older woman, her neighbour, crying. But above all she could hear the TV in her living room, six floors overhead, over the railing, across the balcony, and through the open sliding doors. Or maybe she just imagined she heard it. Whatever the case was, the news anchor she had been watching mere moments ago was repeating the same thing over and over again in her head: "Gotham's nefarious criminal, Jack Napier, more commonly known as the Joker, has been caught on this the 13th of August, 2008."

And then there was silence.