Author Note: This story will be using The Joker as ever so slightly OOC as I am writing him as an evil lunatic but for one girl he is kinder and protective. If you do not like this kind of Joker do not read any further.

Also as many DC fans know The Jester is already a character, I am aware of this, and I also am aware that he is a crime fighter/ Vigilante. However, as he is a relatively unknown character I am going to be using his alias 'The Jester' in my story as a completely unconnected person.

Chapter One: The Jester

Her head hung forward as though she were dead. Her body held no tension whatsoever apart from the Cheshire smile plastered across her face. Her long legs stretched out in front of her, resting on the heels of the PVC platform boots she wore. Her arms hung by the handcuffs tethering her to the chair, she was sat in. They were biting into her skin as her body hung forward forcing her arms back, though she didn't seem to notice or even care.

The interrogation room was cold and damp, the paint was new and left an unsavoury flavour to the air. Gotham Police Station was recently rebuilt after the explosion just over a year ago.

She had not moved at all since she was placed in that room, nor did she make a sound. She wore make-up not dissimilar to his, but it was smudged and running in places leaving patches of skin bare. The bangs of her midnight black hair hung in front of her face, hiding her eyes from view.

The bells on the ribbons in her hair jingled as the door to the interrogation room was opened.

She did not even attempt to look up as he entered the room, her pose set like a statue.

He was of average height, aged 40 to 50, his dark hair showing signs of grey. He wore a simple suit and pair of glasses. His face was aged beyond his years with a deep heaviness that told of his long work hours and hardships. He was a seemingly unremarkable looking man, yet to so many, he was an icon of strength and righteousness. His face was grim as he stared at the young woman in front of him.

Behind him hovering in the doorway was a young officer in uniform. He was tall and strong looking, he looked around uneasily his eyes lingering too long on the girl in the clown getup. He clearly knew exactly who she was.

"Go on," said the older man to him and with a nod the young officer left locking the door behind him.

Finally, the girl looked up at him her smile never ceasing. It was the kind of smile that young children do for a camera, wide and cartoon-like. He dropped a file in front of her, her eyes fell on it and she began to laugh. The sound grew louder and louder until she was bent over in hysteria. It was the kind of laughter people fear, full of desperation and bitterness but most of all insanity.

He sat across from her his eyebrows knitting together in sadness and confusion as to how she had fallen this far, but maybe she hadn't fallen at all maybe she had been in this place all along and was simply hiding all this time.

"Scarlett?" he said softly the laughing instantly stopped and the room echoed with her last laugh. Her gaze went black and the smile fell, this face was far more terrifying than the last.

"YOU DARE CALL ME THAT!" she screamed her voice going unfathomably deep and dark.

"What should I call you then," he asked calmly, trying not to allow his shock to be known.

"Jester," she said simply her face lighting up with that strange smile again and her voice returns to that of a high childlike sing-song manner.

"Is that what he calls you?" he asked his eyes motioning to the holding cell through the door where she had come from, where she knew he still sat, waiting for the right moment, she had no doubts in him, he had never let her down before. Not now, not every. He had broken them out of Arkham, he could get them out of here.

"Yes, sometimes," she said her voice high and happy, her eyes glazed over for a second and a new smile filled her face, it was the first real emotion he had seen in her since she had been taken here. But it faded fast replaced by the skin splitting grin that she was now known for.

"Shall we have a look at your file then, Jester?" he asked but he had already begun to open the file.

"If you wish, commissioner" she sang his title happily, her eyes never leaving his, internally he shivered.

It had been 23 years ago that Jim Gordon had first met Scarlett Jesterson.


She was only four years old and yet had gone through a lifetime of suffering.

He was a newbie cop when they found her, he was not yet tarnished by the scum of Gotham city. The call had rung in, screams and cries had been heard late last night coming from a shipping container at Gotham Docks.

No one was prepared for what they found inside, but they could hear the child screaming, her voice hoarse. It was early morning, the light was dim, so as the doors opened they pointed their torches inside, the screaming of the child louder than ever.

That moment as he looked inside that container, he realised the true evil of the city he called home, he realised the true evil of humankind.

He doubted that he would ever get over seeing something so hideous and evil, but even worse he worried about that little girl, he knew she would never truly recover from what her young eyes had witnessed.

The doors were pulled fully open and a joint gasp left the lips of all who looked on, a few lost their lunch and others stared unable to look away from the horror inside.

There, in the shipping container was a little girl of maybe 3 or 4 years old, stood in the middle screaming for all she had lost. She was dressed in a pretty light blue frilly dress, but it was stained with blood. From head to toe, she was drenched in thick red claret. She wailed her voice cracking as she held on tightly to a severed head and stared desperately at an empty blood-stained chair in the corner.

The container pooled with blood, the girl soaked through as she stood in the depths of it all. Her face was red from the body that had been slaughtered before her young eyes. Later when the police would identify the that there were in fact 2 victims, the child's mother and another woman. A chainsaw would later be discovered as the murder weapon used to not only kill but completely dismember the bodies.

Gordon had been the only one to tear himself back to reality and rush forward to snatch up the child cradling her in his arms, as the head fell from her grasp and she screamed, he wondered if she would ever truly stop screaming.

The child was cared for at first by a foster parent who though had cared for children with troubling pasts, had never quite had anything as bad as what this little girl had witnessed.

The police would later try to interview the child but she would become hysterical and proved to be far too traumatised to give evidence. After a year of foster care, the child was given to her father, who had been in prison during the murder, for fraud. Gordon was wary of handing the child over as he had become slightly attached to the young girl, as well as her father was a well known English con artist, though it had never been proved with evidence that he was dangerous, Mick Jesterson was well known and feared in the streets of Gotham.

Less than a week later, unable to find any reason to have the child taken away from his care, Mick and his daughter Scarlett returned to England a strange smile on the toddlers face. The murderer with the chainsaw was never found.

To be honest Jim never thought he would see Scarlett again and then just over 11 years later he met a happy well adjusted intelligent 15-year-old girl. She had gained an English accent and showed no signs of her horror-filled childhood. Jim wondered if she didn't remember it, he hoped she didn't remember it.

She had returned to Gotham with her father and his new bride to be, Jackie who had been born and breed in Gotham itself, but Jim suspected other reasons for the Jesterson's return.

Though she seemed happy and as though her past was but a forgotten drop in the ocean, alas it was not. She remembered it, she remembered how the chainsaw sounded as it ripped through her mother's spine, she remembered how her mothers leg still kicked when they were no longer attached to her body, she remembered how her mother had begged for Scarlett to be let go, as her arms were removed. She remembered it all and it tainted her very existence. Gordon wondered sometimes if she had had a normal life would she still become one of Gotham's most wanted criminals and one of Arkham'ss most notorious patients.

He looked up at the grinning woman in front of him the jagged scar from her bottom lid of her right eye running down to the top of her cheek, looked like the streak of a tear in this light. It led from her right eye which was completely white, as though frosted over. It was a haunting look. He wished that the horrors she had seen had been forgotten just like he thought they had not so long ago. He sighed and she giggled, a high squeaky sound.

There was a loud booming sound outside the interrogation room, but Gordon ignored it. The woman in front of him right now was far more important.

"Did he give you that?" Gordon asked motioning to the scar trying not to stare at her haunting eye. He wondered if she could see out of it at all. She seemed to be thinking for a second then she laughed again.

"Yes and no," she said and the grin spread across her face again.

"Does he often hurt you?" asked Gordon as he shut her file.

"When I ask him to" she replied still smiling. "Sometimes I like it rough," she said winking at him.

A laugh was heard over the intercom, it was him, there was no way you wouldn't recognise that manic laugh. The one way mirror exploded as the bullet hit it. As the dust settled the Joker stepped over the small wall and into the interrogation room. He hit Gordon hard with the butt of his gun as the police officer tried to attack. The older man's body falling to the ground in a heap.

Joker pulled a string of keys out his pocket and approached the girl on the chair.

"Your knight has arrived," he said winking at her and she blushed under her white make-up.

Gordon tried to move as he watched the The Joker un-cuff The Jester and help her to her feet. If they hadn't been wanted murderous psychopaths the scene would have been almost cute as she pecked The Joker on the cheek and thanked him. Jim's head was swimming and he couldn't focus as he tried to stop them.

"Come on gorgeous, our ride is waiting," said the Joker to his girlfriend who simply nodded and held onto his hand.

"This has been fun Jim, we should do it again sometime," said The Jester as she and The Joker made their way back over the small wall and out of the interrogation room.

The police station was filled with dust from the explosion the Joker had used to free himself and Jester. They ran out of the station and into the van that was waiting outside, the driver did not need to be told as he flooded the accelerator and the van took off down the street.

Scarlett looked over at the painted face next to her and grinned he looked back and mirrored her expression.

"I do love, that smile," he said to her as he pulled her onto his lap, and slipped his arm around her waist.

"Same here!" she said happily before the pair kissed his red lipstick mixing with her purple.

The Joker pulled away and rested his head on Jester's forehead and grinned madly at her and she laughed.