A/N: Hi guys! Well, this is my first Joker story, and it's set during the entire events of the Dark Knight. :) I just love the Joker in that movie, so I thought I'd mix it up a little. I was inspired by a book called Stolen, written by Lucy Christopher in letter format to her captor. It's fictional, but it really is one of the most amazing books I have ever read in my life. And so I thought I'd make a story like that for the Joker, written by a girl he has taken in order to work out his plan. :) I just wanted to tell you in case you're confused as to the 'you' format. 'You' being the Joker in this particular story :) If you like this story, please let me know! Because I'm considering changing it to the regular story instead of letter format. I think this puts you in the Joker's shoes though, so I'll give it a go! :)

Prologue

The Joker Plays A Trick

It was your eyes that drew me in first; not the vivid red scars or the twisted smile. Even in such a small café, your face was everywhere. You were on the newspapers that had been left abandoned on another table, and now you were on the tiny television nestled in the corner of the room. I sat alone, at a table lined against a wall. Mr Roberts, the bank manager, had been in a foul mood for the entire day. Quite frankly, I was just happy to have my lunch break to be away from him even if it was just for an hour. Only a month working there and already I wanted to quit. The news-reporter, a woman who barely looked any older than me and had more cleavage on display than I cared to mention, asked a very simple question, "When will this monster be caught?" as a picture of your beaming, happy face popped up on the camera, clearly taken from CCTV footage.

The small waitress, who wore a name-tag that read, 'Hello, I'm ASHLEY, how may I help you?', standing behind the counter snorted and rolled her eyes. "When pigs fly, sweetheart," she muttered, flicking through a magazine. She chewed on the end of a straw, barely even glancing at the pages before she turned them. She hummed softly to herself, pausing on one particular picture that caught her eye. It was Batman. In large, blood red letters was the question, 'Who is Batman?' I only wish I knew. Maybe if I had, I could have ran from that café and searched the city for him, begging him to save me from you. If only. The café hummed with noise, and the excruciatingly loud sound of a baby shrieking in its high-chair. The mother, a woman who couldn't been more than twenty-five, looked fit to leap from a fifty-floor-high building. Her blonde hair was frizzed and scraped into a low-key ponytail as she desperately tried to make her baby eat some disgusting, pale mush that I assume was supposed to be food. I don't blame him for throwing a tantrum when he was handed gross stuff like that.

A couple were arguing in the corner on the other side of the room. In front of them was a family, who just so happened to be arguing too. The brother and sister, only ten years old, fought over their toys, while the parents fought over their children fighting. What a crazy world we live in. I barely even took notice of the teenagers giggling near the front of the room, or the old man reading a withered book that had a broken spine and looked a little worse for wear. I had been mindlessly doodling on my napkin, using a pen I had borrowed from work – it read Gotham's National Bank – Always Here to Help on the side in a black, bold font.

It was no surprise that I didn't notice the shabby, scruffy hobo-like man with a baseball cap covering most of his face until he sat in front of me. I didn't think much of it. After all, it was the only seat left in the café. He didn't bother me, either. Just pulled out a newspaper and began reading the front page. He held it in front of him, obscuring my view. Ashley, the young waitress, came bustling to our table. She took out a notepad and beamed at the man sitting across from me. "What can I get you, sir?" Without looking up or even moving his newspaper to show his face, he replied, "One coffee." His voice was low and gruff. Ashley turned to face me, her name-tag gleaming in the light.

"And you ma'am? You want a refill?"

"Yes, please," I smiled. She nodded, her ponytail bobbing up and down. I cast curious glances at the stranger sitting in front of me. His long coat was shabby, one of its pockets half torn off. His baseball cap was blank and grey, successfully hiding his face from view. Sighing, I decided to watch the couple fighting across the room, seeing as this stranger didn't look as if he planned on chatting any time soon. Once again, Ashley returned with our orders and the man didn't even acknowledge her. He turned a page of his newspaper. I read the front page to myself. Of course, your face was plastered all over it. The headline read, 'THE JOKER CREATES CHAOS – BUT BATMAN HAS THE LAST LAUGH'. A heroic tale of Batman defeating you. Having your black eyes staring at me from that newspaper unnerved me. They seemed so…deep. Like you were full of secrets I wanted to know.

I was so busy reading that newspaper the man held up in front of him that I managed to slosh my coffee onto my white blouse. Oh, crap. Mr Roberts would go insane if I turned up at the bank with a giant stain on my clothes. He would call it 'unprofessional'. The joys of work. Muttering angrily to myself, I stood and went to grab some napkins. It must have been then, when no one was watching. You know what I mean, of course. When I returned to my seat, I didn't suspect a thing. I was far more worried about what Mr Roberts would say. I drank my coffee, fretting about my job and wishing I could just travel like I always wanted to. The man in front of me cleared his throat quietly, putting his newspaper down and keeping his head down.

I wished he would simply look up. It was as if he were hiding from everyone. Maybe he was shy. I rubbed my eyes, my vision blurring slightly as I watched him. My chest begin to burn, my head beginning to feel as if it were filled with cotton. My voice didn't quite seem to work. The noise in the café became blurred, as if my head were underwater. I couldn't even cough to try and rid myself of the burning feeling in my chest.

"Oh dear, you aren't looking very good, Ruby," a voice whispered.

I glanced up at the man across from me, who was showing his face. I knew those eyes anywhere. The eyes so dark I could see myself in them. I didn't need to see the scars to know it was you. You weren't wearing your make-up, like you did in all the photos and videos I had ever seen of you in the media. I tried to push myself away from you, to call out for help and let the other customers know that you, the Joker, were sitting right here in front of me, drinking coffee as if nothing were wrong. Only, I couldn't. My mouth opened and total babble came out, words that made no sense. I wasn't even sure of where I was anymore. I felt your hand latch onto my wrist as you stood me up. I had to lean against you, stumbling slightly. You threw a few dollars to Ashley, though her face was far too blurry in my mind to make out.

Why didn't anyone notice us? A woman in a nice, attractive business suit being half-carried by a scruffy guy in a baseball cap? I doubt anyone even cared. The mother was too distracted and tormented with looking after a new-born baby. The old man too busy reading his withered book. The couple too engrossed in their fight to realize anyone else in the café. The family beside them being the exact same. Too far into their own world to see that the Joker was hiding amongst them, not knowing you had taken me right in front of them. You lugged me along without much care or grace, I remember that much.

I can't remember much. We turned a corner, away from the warmth of the café. A man in a clown mask. Asking, "Is this the girl, boss?". Being in a van, giggling madly to myself. Totally unaware of the danger I was in all because you had successfully slipped a drug into my drink while I went to find some napkins. I remember your voice most of all, from that blurry trip in the van. The cold ground, your mad laughter as we veered violently around a corner. I smashed into you. I gripped your shabby jacket, and you laughed even more.

"Poor little Ruby Red, the drugs are messing with her head!" you sang like it were a children's rhyme, pushing me away and climbing into the front seat. Dimly I remembered the van stopping, being pulled out by one of your henchmen, who grabbed me by my hair instead of my arm. A door slammed open, but my head was still filled with that fluffy cotton. Everything in my mind was fuzzy, like I was watching it from far away. I heard your insane laughter as I was dragged inside a dark room, flung unceremoniously onto the hard concrete floor. I don't know how long I lay there. Like I said, it's blurry. Your laughter had vanished. My ribs hurt from where you had dragged me to the van.

For some insane reason, I wondered where my pen was. That's what the drugs did to me, I suppose. I was thinking of my stupid pen that I had left behind in the café. Surely that Ashley waitress would find it? Though I doubt she would think I had lost it merely because the Joker had kidnapped me. She would just assume I had dropped it, or forgotten it. She wouldn't give it a second thought. You had taken me during the day. With people going about their boring, ordinary lives all around us. How could you do that, without anyone even batting an eyelash? They called you intelligent and sneaky, but it wasn't until that moment as I lay on the cold ground that I realized just how right they were.

Of course, I wondered what it was that you wanted. I was simply Ruby Reddington. You had already known my name when you took me. This wasn't some random thing. You had planned this. I don't know how long I lay there, or if any time had passed at all since we arrived, but the door to my room flung open. And there you were. You had lost the baseball cap and the shabby clothes. Instead, you were in a brilliant suit with bright colours burned my tender eyes. My tummy felt nauseous. I couldn't even stand up. I remember shaking, trying to push myself away you. You stood with your arms wide open, as if expecting me to hug you somehow. Your make-up was on, the bright red smile and the black eyes peering down at me. You clapped your hands together suddenly. To my drugged up brain, the sound seemed to echo for hours, making the ground vibrate.

Whatever you had given me, it had worked perfectly. My thoughts blended together like the mush that woman had tried to serve her baby in the café. I could barely remember my own name when you said it.

"Ruby, my sweet Ruby," you barked loudly. "Finally, we meet!"

Your voice wormed its way to me, making me shiver. Finally? How long had you been planning this?

You knew I couldn't speak. You knew I couldn't do anything at all, not with that stuff floating through my veins.

"What's the matter, Ruby? Cat got your tongue!" you mocked, jumping up dramatically and yanking at your own tongue as if trying to pull it out. My bewildered eyes followed your every movement, terrified. Your face blurred for a moment. My vision went black. It couldn't have lasted for very long, because when I opened them again, you were kneeling in front of me. I remember the intensity of your gaze as you stared into my eyes. "Ruuuuby? Do you know why you're here?"

I shook my head wildly, feeling as if the ground was slowly opening up to swallow me whole. At that moment, I wished it would have.

You laughed madly, doubling over and putting your hands on your knees. "Because, my little Ruby Red, you have something I need. And I'm gonna get it whether you like it or not! Now, now, don't look so frightened! We're gonna have a blast, I promise!"