Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for anything.

Author's Note: Another random inspiration that struck my brain during an insomnia driven all-nighter. I have ideas for it, but I'll only continue if people like it and want me to. Rated M for violence, language, eventual smut, triggers and all manner of inappropriate behaviors and jokes.

Raven scowled as the sounds of crashing cell walls, the loud, blaring alarms and rapid gunfire rattled her eardrums and her brain. Sure, she was thankful for the Joker's breakout, since his cell was next to hers and his henchmen had unknowingly freed her as well, but she always hated loud noises. She didn't know where the Joker and his men had run off to, and she didn't much care – she was getting the fuck out of here, and fast. She made quick work of slipping out of her cell and procuring a baton, flashlight, canister of mace and a gun from a couple of dead guards littering the floor of her cell block. She weaved through the bodies on the floor, ducking into empty cells and corridors whenever someone got too close for comfort. She made sure to keep to the shadows, draped in only her ratty Arkham issued sneakers and jumpsuit.

She crept along the wall in a dark, empty corridor and noticed the noise was dying down. She grinned maniacally, knowing she had to be close to the back exit she had been heading for, chills running down her spine as she anticipated her impending freedom from this shit hole. She crouched low as she neared the end of the corridor, carefully sticking her head out just far enough to peer around the corner and check if her route was clear. She was thankful for her jet black hair as it cascaded around her shoulders, shrouding her in more darkness as she risked exposure. She scanned the corridor for any signs of life and she smirked when she noticed none, slowly straightening up and sliding around the corner. She ignored the goosebumps that raised on her arms and the way her hair stood up on the back of her neck, chalking the nasty feeling up to her paranoia as she quietly made her way down the dark corridor, careful to lift her feet as she walked instead of shuffling like she usually did.

Raven was about ten feet from the exit door when she heard an eerie, chilling, slow laugh come from her left. She whipped around, brandishing the baton she'd stolen and came face to face with none other than the Joker. He was alone and completely shirtless, only wearing a pair of black pants, sneakers and a purple latex glove on his right hand. He stood quite close to her, grinning down at her with his gunmetal grills flashing and a wicked glint in his milky, pale blue eyes.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't my little songbird," the Joker crooned.

Raven rolled her eyes at him, ceasing her movements and turning to face him. He grinned maniacally at her, his signature laugh reverberating in the empty, dark corridor they stood in. "What do you want, clown? Can't you see I'm busy?" She snapped, glaring up at him as he closed the distance between them, circling her like a hawk would before descending upon its prey.

He wagged his finger at her, tutting her in a scolding manner. "That's not very nice, my little bird." He made a noise that sounded both like a growl and a purr as he came to face her, his pale blue eyes boring into her bright green ones. "Why won't you play with me?" He cocked his head to the side, his bottom red-stained lip jutting out in a pout.

"I've told you a hundred times, Joker - I kill men, I don't play with them." She swung the baton lazily in her right hand, subtly threatening him. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be on my way." She moved to make her way to the door and growled when she felt his inhumanly pale hand catch her wrist in a tight, bruising grip. She whipped back around to face him, scowling.

"Would you kill me?" He whispered, his eyes glinting with amusement as he released her wrist to reach up and cup her face.

He brought his face closer to hers, his lips nearly touching hers as he stared into her eyes. With his free purple gloved hand, he reached behind him, pulling his gun from where he had tucked it into the waistband of his black pants, and shoved it into her hand. He giggled as she gripped it in her hand, examining it before she expertly racked the slide, cocked the hammer back and flicked the safety off.

He folded his hands behind his back as she leveled the barrel of the gun between his eyes, a wide grin spreading across his pale, tattooed face.

She laughed, keeping her finger to the side of the trigger and grinning back at him. "I would," she whispered.

He pressed his forehead harder against the barrel, licking his bright red, smeared lips. He gripped her forearm tightly in his hands, keeping her arm steady as she held the gun. "Do it," he snarled. "Do it, do it, do it, DO IT!"

"As you wish, Joker," she cooed. In one swift movement, she lifted the gun into the air and a loud, sudden shot rang out, echoing down the empty corridors surrounding them. His eyes darkened and his expression contorted into one of fury as he realized she just exposed their location.

"Thanks for the distraction!" Raven chirped, sprinting toward the exit door.

He wasn't fast enough to catch her as she kicked open the door, his gun still in her hand, and flung herself outside into the night, disappearing into the thick woods that surrounded the asylum.

He heard the stampede of police officers closing in on his location and ran out the door, quickly ducking around the side of the building and launching himself into the open doors of the waiting black van that was full of his henchmen. As soon as he was in, his goons were slamming the doors shut as the van sped off, careening dangerously through police cars and officers scattered all over the grounds of the asylum.

"You can run, my little songbird, but you can't hide," he sing-songed to himself in the back of the van, laughing maniacally as he was transported to his hideout. His laughter died down as they finally pulled up to his nightclub at the edge of Gotham city, surrounded by well-armed henchmen in different costumes and electric chain-link fences topped with crackling barbed wire. He grinned as he jumped out of the van, ignoring his henchmen as he made his way into the club and upstairs towards his concealed living quarters.

He walked down the dark, empty hallway until he reached the storage room. He walked in, maneuvering around supplies, and opened the breaker panel, carefully pulling the face of it off to reveal the touch pad underneath. He dialed in the code and waited as the back wall slid to the side to reveal his built-in apartment, complete with a living room with a large electric fireplace, a large kitchen, an office for personal use, a big master bedroom with a walk-in closet and a huge, luxurious bathroom.

He took in the familiar onyx floors and the matte black walls, casting the apartment in impenetrable darkness when the black curtains were drawn around the windows. All of his furniture was black, purple, and green and was all brand new and of top quality and design. He crossed the dark apartment and entered his bedroom, making his way to his closet where his jewelry and clothing were kept. He clapped gleefully when he saw that his henchmen had retrieved his gold necklaces and his rings and grinned, sauntering over to his bathroom to take a long, luxurious bath to soothe his aching muscles.

The breakout had gone according to plan, much to his delight, but it had taken its toll on his body. After being caged in a cell for so long, in a straight jacket with no room to move or exercise at all, he had become stiff and his neck, back and shoulders were riddled with knots and calcium deposits. He had gotten a good workout caving in the skulls of fellow patients, armed guards, and even a few doctors with a baseball bat, and he had taken his sweet time frying Doctor Quinzel's brains as revenge for her erasing his mind. He cackled at the memory as he sank himself into the luxurious spa-sized jacuzzi tub, groaning at the way the jets of water and the bubbles eased the tension and soreness in his body.

His spread his arms across the top of the tub, sprawling out lazily in it and rolling his head back, closing his dark-rimmed eyes and letting his mind wander as he soaked.

Memories of the asylum sprang to the forefront of his mind and he grinned, his gunmetal grills glinting in the light of the bathroom as flashes of his little asylum neighbor came to him. "Naughty, naughty," he growled, slipping into his first memory of the intriguing woman.

The Joker was sitting on the cot in his cell, wrapped in his straight jacket and leaning back against the wall when a chilling, humorless laugh cut through the regular cacophony of Arkham Asylum. He grinned, sliding off the cot and to his feet, quickly making his way to his cell door to take a look at the fresh meat.

His eyes flashed as they met hers – big, bright green and glittering with insanity. He delighted in the sound of her humorless laughter, raking his eyes over her petite form as she was roughly escorted down the cell block. She was 5'2", around 108 pounds, and she had long, wavy black hair, high cheek bones, a thin nose, full and plump red-stained lips, and long eyelashes lining her pretty eyes that were nearly hidden behind black-rimmed designer glasses that fit her face nicely. Her face was thin and feminine, perfectly angled and her features all symmetrical. She was wearing a black crop top shirt that didn't hide much with its deep v-neck, accentuating her round, perky c-cups. Her jeans were a whitish-gray color, acid washed and ripped from the tops of her legs to her ankles, showing off her nicely shaped and smooth legs. She had strappy heels on - black, with pointed toes and a 4 inch heel on them. The outfit was enticing, to say the least, but the Joker personally liked it even more with the bright red and rust colored blood stains smeared all over it.

Her hands and arms, he noticed, were caked to the elbows in blood that looked quite fresh. The same blood was smeared on her face, her neck and chest, and her black heels were stained with rust-colored blood. She was still laughing as she passed his cell, and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot down his spine as he made brief eye contact with her at such close range. He began barking his own signature laugh when he realized they had put her in the cell next to his, and he watched with interest as the guards roughly flung her down on her cot, tossing a jumpsuit and sneakers at her and demanded that she change. She glared at them defiantly, a creepy grin spreading across her face as she shifted herself into a sitting position.

In a heartbeat, she had slammed one of her feet right up between the legs of one guard, catching him right in the junk with the pointed toe of her heel. He howled in pain, dropping to his knees as the other guard shouted for assistance with the new 'patient'. Doctor Quinzel quickly rushed into the cell, glaring at the new patient as she neared her. The raven haired lunatic laughed gleefully at Doctor Quinzel and the Joker licked his lips in anticipation of what she'd do next. He noticed that Doctor Quinzel had one of those tranquilizer loaded needles in her hand and he giggled from where he stood, distracting the doctor he had manipulated into falling for him just long enough for the raven haired woman to snatch the needle from the doctor with her teeth and jam it into her thigh. She brought her legs up and used her knee to slam the needle further into Doctor Quinzel's thigh, causing the drug to release into her body.

The other guard had come storming back into the cell and when his eyes fell upon the scene before him, he roughly yanked the woman up by her hair and forcefully slammed her face-down on her cot, holding her head down with one knee jammed into the back of her neck and his other one pressing down on her spine. He called for more backup and when there was an entire team of guards in the cell, they released her from her handcuffs long enough to cut her clothes off and force her into her jumpsuit before shackling her ankles and wrists. She had screamed and flailed like a wild animal, her eyes turning almost black in her rage as they had stripped and redressed her, and she had managed to successfully injure a few guards with her vicious kicks and scratches.

When it was all over and the injured guards and Doctor Quinzel's unconscious form were removed from her cell, the Joker had hissed at her to get her attention. She was sprawled lazily on her cot, one arm and one leg draping off the edge of it and hanging towards the floor. She slowly turned her head to look at him and he grinned. His trademark laugh carried along the entire block and she smirked at the sound. "Hiya," he whispered, so close to the bars that divided their cells that his face was almost pressed into them. "I like your style, toots."

She grinned at him, not moving from where she lay on her cot, and chuckled. "My ex boyfriend sure didn't," she joked, shooting him a wink. She lifted her hands and held them close to her face, examining the caked blood that completely covered them and she burst out laughing, sparking a bout of laughter from the Joker himself. She ripped her gaze from her hands and looked back at the Joker, quirking a brow as she took in his bright green, slicked back hair, his 'damaged' forehead tattoo, eerily pale skin, the 'J' tattoo on his cheek, gunmetal gray grills in his mouth and his red smeared lips. "You're the guy that's always fucking around with the Batman," she said, a little smirk playing on her lips. "The Joker, right?"

"The one and only, babe," he whispered huskily, winking at her. "What's your name?" He asked, more and more intrigued by this small woman as he watched her.

"Whatever you want it to be," she teased, rolling over on her cot so her back was to him. He raised an eyebrow at her and chuckled quietly before making his way back to his cot, flopping down on his back and staring up at the ceiling. "What an interesting creature," he muttered, grinning to himself as he prepared for yet another sleepless night. He had never slept at night here, oh no. One always had to be on their guard here in case any of the staff, guards and doctors alike were feeling... froggy. There were many times he had feigned sleep and heard one of them sneaking into his cell, fully prepared with a tranquilizer needle and a bag to put over his head, and he had nearly bitten off their limbs in the ensuing struggles. Sure, they had learned to stop sneak-attacking him in the night, but he still wouldn't sleep. Even if it was safe to sleep here, he still couldn't - he could only sleep in his own bedroom in his fortress. No, the Joker would never be weak or vulnerable outside of his bedroom. Never.

That changed as soon as he heard it - a soft, melodic noise coming from his right. He turned his head and squinted, taking in the silhouette of his new neighbor, shrouded in the darkness of their cell block. He thought she had fallen asleep when she had turned over, but as he slowed his breathing and strained his ears, he could make out her voice. She was singing, soft and low. The song seemed to be a sad one, from what he could tell by the melancholy tone of her voice. He lifted his head and used his upper body strength to sit up, being careful not to make any noise and alert her to his eavesdropping. As he listened, he found himself relaxing, enjoying her voice and the calm it seemed to lull him into. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep - sitting on his cot, leaning back against the wall with his head slumped over on his shoulder.

His eyes popped open as the memory faded away and he snarled, scraping his hands down his face and smearing his makeup. He splashed water into his face, scrubbing it clean of the black smudges around his eyes and the red lipstick on his mouth and quickly scrubbed the rest of his body before getting out of the tub and turning off the bubbles and jets. He stalked over to the vanity and took in his reflection, his pale lips and pale blue eyes, nearly translucent in contrast to his paper white skin. He lazily smeared fresh makeup over his eyes and lips and stalked into his bedroom, putting all of his rings and gold necklaces back on before dressing himself in a black button up, black slacks, black Italian leather dress shoes, and his shiny purple blazer. He kept only the bottom three buttons of his shirt buttoned, showing off his tattooed chest and stomach, and loosely hung a silver tie around his neck, leaving it undone. He slicked his green hair back and spritzed on a little cologne before stepping out of his room, making his way through the secret door and down to the basement of the building.

"JOHNNY!" He shouted, his voice booming through the empty space. Johnny Frost finally appeared, approaching the Joker cautiously - he had that familiar, murderous look on his face and Johnny felt a chill run down his spine. The Joker glared at him, snatching his shoulder holster from Johnny and peeling off his purple jacket, slipping the holster on over his button up shirt, seeming satisfied that his guns were already snugly tucked into their designated holsters. He shrugged his purple jacket back on and finally spoke, his voice gruff and raspy. "Did you get me what I asked for?"

His signature laugh bounced off the walls as Johnny handed over a manila envelope labeled with a patient identity number from Arkham Asylum. "Good boy," the Joker sing-songed, flipping open the folder and grinning when his eyes fell on an image of his songbird, glaring at the camera and covered in blood. "That's my girl," he whispered, stroking his pale finger down the picture. He was torn from his musings when Johnny coughed, signaling all the henchmen had come into the room. The Joker lifted his head, eyeballing each one of them deliberately before he sneered, irritated by their presences. "What the fuck are you all looking at? Get back to work! I want this place up and running... now," he barked, causing them all to scramble out of the room and upstairs to the club on the first floor, cleaning up the space and getting it ready for its reopening later tonight.

"Johnny," he called, beckoning the man back to him with his finger. "I want you to run a few... errands... for me."

Johnny swallowed hard, taking down a mental list of all the things Joker told him to do and all the people he wanted him to go and see. "Anything else?" he asked, fingering his car keys in his pocket.

The Joker dismissed him with a flick of his wrist, slowly making his way upstairs and to his bigger, soundproof office tucked behind the VIP section of the club. He sat himself at the head of the large, oak table, and began flipping through the contents of the manila folder, looking for addresses that he might find her at. "Raven..." his eyes lit up at his discovery of her first name. "I knew it, I knew you were a bird!" He giggled as he carefully read the police report in her file, raising his eyebrows at the detailed description of her savagery. "66 times," he muttered to himself, admiring the woman's drive. "What a strong little bird she is! My strong little bird."