Well, this is it once more. The very last.

Robot521, I agree completely. Something about Ivy rubs me the wrong way. Actually, with the exception of Catwoman and Batgirl, most of the female characters in Batman aren't that great. I don't know why I liked Batgirl...but I miss her. Also, I feel like the Silence of the Lambs would be the only movie Crane would have enjoyed. Thanks for all your reviews, it means a lot that you've taken the time to both read and review these stories.

Violeta27, you know I love you. Don't make me say it in front of the people of Sweden.

Esmeralda Smith, I was thinking as I wrote that scene how proud V would be of me. It was completely unintentional, but amused the hell out of me as an end result. Plus, your comment was hella funny.

Everyone else, what can I say. Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad. Other things just make you swear and curse. When you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble, give a whistle. And this'll help things turn out for the best...

Thursday, 2003

** Selina**

Opera with Gary the high financier was the same old boring affair opera usually was.

Sitting in a box overlooking the stage, she watched as a man far too old and too fat to be the supposedly handsome, young Don Giovanni belted out in Italian all his arrogance as though getting it out of his system.

Idly shredding the program, she stifled back a yawn.

They had just returned from the act break, where Gary was caught up chatting with a rich businessman and his wife, before being stolen away by another rich business man and his equally pretentious wife.

Selina settled herself at the bar, sipping brandy and biding her time.

Now, a little flushed from too much brandy, she sat in the box watching as Don Giovanni scorned Elvira. She only understood a bit of Italian, which meant she was going on gestures, as the man waved Elvira off and she left looking crushed.

A scream came from offstage, catching Selina's attention.

Don Giovanni and his chicken shit servant Leporello both become a flurry of singing and activity as the pounding of the drums simulated the pounding of something greater approaching.

Suddenly the wall at the back of the set broke open, fake, Styrofoam bricks scattering across the stage. Instead of the towering statue of the Commendatore, the slightly towering Riddler emerged.

"Don Giovanni!" He sang as whispers rippled through the opera goers.

By now an entire clan of Riddler goons were sweeping through the audience, as Query and Echo marched on stage from either side with their guns in hand.

Selina scoffed, leave it to Ed to make one hell of an entrance, livening up a dreadfully boring night.

Beaming, the Riddler stepped down from the wall, twirling his baton, as he approached centre stage, he held the handle of his cane to his mouth and spoke. It must have been connected to the speakers as his voice echoed off the walls of the opera house.

"Ladies and gentleman-like men! Please keep calm during this time, we're not here to blow anything up, I merely wanted to leave a present for an old friend of mine." As he said this a couple of goons rolled out a large dodecahedron shaped device. "A puzzle of sorts, sure to delight and amuse for generations to come."

Beside her, Gary leaned forward, just as Batman crashed through the ventilation at the very top of the opera house dome and glided down towards the stage, swooping this way and that to avoid the bullets the Riddler's goons sent his way.

"Here's a riddle for you, Batman! How do you stop a flying rodent?" The Riddler shouted.

"Cut off his wings, boss!" Echo answered from stage left.

"Don't mind if I do!" He held up his hand, pointing a remote device at the dodecahedron. Panels slid back to reveal a bevy of sharp shuriken.

Sensing events about to unfold, Selina ducked behind the heavy stone balustrade of the box seat, pulling Gary down with her as pieces of metal soared every which way.

People shrieked and ducked as the shuriken sailed through the opera house.

Cautiously, she poked her head up to catch the Riddler rising to his feet as well, a mad grin on his face as Batman (tattered but not injured) landed on the stage near Echo.

The Riddler giggled. "Oops, there's my cue!"

The hellfire flared up from the floor of the stage on either side of the man clad in green, as Batman neared, causing the man to shield himself from the real flames. Arrogantly the Riddler saluted him as he sunk into the stage, descending into the hell intended for Don Giovanni. The trapdoor slammed shut as Batman set foot on the spot where the Riddler had previously stood.

Now the dark knight was left with two gun wielding henchwomen.

Noticing the goon behind her had taken a shuriken to the leg and was too busy screaming bloody murder to notice her, she slipped off, behind the curtain and down the hall for the stairs. She'd be damned if she was anywhere near the opera house when the GCPD showed up.

Thursday, Now

"Helloooo, Eddie-boy!"

Edward cracked his eyes to the early morning world of his bedroom and turned his head.

There, nose to nose with him was a grotesque pale face, the mouth carved upwards, splattered messily with red.

"Gah!" He flipped off the bed gracelessly, landing on the floor in a pile of limbs. It took him a moment to collect him, before he popped his head above the line of the mattress like a meerkat eyeing the horizon for danger.

There, head propped up on one hand, lay the Joker in all his purple and green splendour.

"Jesus Christ, Jack." He said, pulling himself up to stand beside the bed. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this heart attack?"

"Just re-connecting with some old friends." The Joker sing-songed in his warped, croak. "You're looking thin, Eddie-boy. I must know your diet secrets." He broke off in his sick cackle.

"It's called eating what you can on the budget of a hobo. I highly recommend it if you hate food." He replied. "Can I offer you some tea or coffee?" The best way to handle the Joker was to treat him amiably.

Leaping to his feet with surprising energy (given that the man was at least five years older than Edward), Jack cackled again, moving in to wag a finger at Edward. "Now, don't be quite the host, Edward! I'll get it, come, I've started breakfast already!"

Allowing his hand to be captured, the Riddler was dragged out into the hall and pushed roughly into a chair at the table.

The Joker, his insane eyes wild, watched as the mother cat moved from the window into his apartment. "My my, who left this window open? Vermin are getting in. Let me handle them for you."

Taking hold of the calico mother cat, Jack gripped her head firmly in his hand.

"Jack," Edward stated firmly. "Leave her be."

Eyes on the Riddler, cat struggling in his arms, the Joker hesitated, before cackling. "Your choice, Ed!"

Thankfully, he dropped the cat and she scurried off.

Humming to himself, Jack went about tinkering in the kitchen, the entire time banging and clanging merrily.

"How do you take your eggs, my boy? Over easy," he grinned sadistically at him. "Benedict?"

Edward evened his expression. "Scrambled, if you must."

"Oh, I insist!" Turning back to his task, the Joker threw out a calm. "I would have taken you for a fried egg, type."

It was this, coupled with the fact that Edward had known the Joker since the infancy of the Riddler, that caused him to look about for the trap. Jack was never really subtle.

There it was, a small bundle of innocuous looking wires running down the leg of the chair he sat in, heading for the electrical outlet.

"Tea?' Jack growled, towering over him.

Setting his hand carefully on the tabletop, Edward nodded. "Please."

"One lump or two?" Somehow the Joker could make anything sound like a death threat.

"Why not go for broke and say three?" Edward replied.

"It's not good for you, you know." Jack teased. "That much sugar."

"There's a lot worse that could be done to my body."

"Oh, I know!" Jack exclaimed. "Cholesterol is a killer!" He cackled again.

Taking surreptitious, studying glances at the wires, Edward prepared to either make a move to free himself from his throne of death or die. He wasn't prepared to die, but he wasn't prepared to wait out the Joker's torture either. The man had already put him under slave labour once before, never again would Edward be forced to serve the mad man.

Thumping down the mug of tea, Jack grinned down at him. "Drink up, Eddie-boy."

Eyeing the amber liquid, Edward sighed. "It's nice of you to visit, Jack."

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine, I'm sure!" Slumping into the chair across the table from Edward, the Joker fell silent. "Drink your tea, Eddie." Behind him the eggs began to burn on the stove, smoke pluming up from the skillet.

Licking his bottom lip, the Riddler sighed. "I'm not thirsty."

Jack was silent, still studying Edward, his pale brown eyes boring a hole into his soul. Carefully, he leaned his chair back on two legs and neatly placed his feet on the table, crossing one long, spindly leg over the other.

The smoke from the eggs became a darker shade of grey as the stink of burnt eggs wafted across the kitchen into the dining area. Still, Jack paid them no heed, eyes on Edward, grin plastered on his face, making the severity of the rest of his face morbid.

"What happens, Jack, when I don't drink the tea?" Edward asked. "Will this chair explode or fry me?"

"You're the genius, Edward. You tell me."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he wondered if anyone ever hugged Jack. The man was a full blown beast. The smoke from the eggs was now thick in the air, plumes of it billowing out of the skillet, setting off the fire alarm. Still, Jack made no move towards the stove.

It didn't take any more than that for Edward to put it all together. The chair - knowing the Joker - was rigged with electricity, there was no doubt. But the eggs burning on the stove, the oven mitts left beside the pan on the edge of the counter just close enough, the dish towels and all the mess scattered around his formerly neat kitchen. This was a death trap and Edward had been placed inside it. Guess someone must have found out about his meeting with Gordon and went to the Joker…

"Feeling threatened by me, Jack?" Edward asked. "Or are you just sad you lost out to me for Snappiest Dressed Villain?"

Over the Joker's shoulder, the oven mitts finally caught on fire, while he merely chuckled madly. "I'm insulted, Eddie-boy, I really am." He pushed to his feet. "Here I make you a lovely breakfast and you can't even drink your tea…"

And just like that, Jack turned and left.

Edward leaned as far as he dared to lean to see what lay just under the seat of the chair. Obviously Jack didn't want him dead, otherwise he would have killed him in his sleep, but still, that didn't mean he would make the escape easy. He was torturing Edward like a beast tortures its prey before dealing a swift blow.

If he were in his suit, he could use the small nail kit he kept in his breast pocket to disconnect the wires, but…well he wasn't in his suit.

In the kitchen the oven mitts caught fire and it spread a little faster over the array of flammable objects the Joker had laid out.

**Selina**

She was halfway over Gotham, heading back to Ed's from a night of prowling, when she spied the smoke billowing in the East.

Curious she had followed it, heading across the rooftops. Hoping whatever was going down would distract her from her thoughts. Things were progressing too fast with Ed and she wasn't really expecting it. Not that it was awful, but somehow fast progression always seemed like something that could never end well.

It wasn't until she was five or six blocks from the fire, that she began to recognize the rooftops. She had travelled this route before.

Landing hard on the rooftop of the building overlooking the fire, she skidded to a halt at the edge, claws digging into the gravel as she crouched to watch Eddie's apartment burn.

There were flames licking out from the windows on all floors, smoke pluming high into the early morning sky.

She scanned the survivors who were being tended to on the curb below, looking for the familiar rosewood colour of his hair.

Something inside the apartment exploded and showered the survivors with more smoke and debris.

Below her the fire fighters swarmed, forcing those observing back from the building for their own safety.

He's dead.

He's not. He can't be.

"Best seat in the house, eh, Selina?"

She recognized the voice, but refused to turn from watching the apartment burn. If she did he would no doubt see her tears.

"Did you do this?" She asked.

His breath fell on the back of her neck as he leaned down to whisper. "I really wish they handed out medals for chaos. I'm an unappreciated artist."

"Why?"

"I once heard someone refer to Eddie-boy as Joker Lite." He said jovially. "I don't like having a version of myself with less calories and all the great taste." He ended darkly, before cackling.

He's dead.

To be continued...?