Somehow, Carla found herself spending more and more time with Jonathan Crane outside of work. Perhaps it was because he was her only friend in the city, apart from Harvey Dent's attempts at a friendship, or perhaps it was because of something else.

Either way, the distinctive scent of the worn down leather and dry ice that filled the Iceberg Lounge had become familiar to her. She was let in by the twins without fuss and served her favourite drinks without being asked, never having a glass run empty before another drink was placed down in front of her.

Men would stare and women would too, beady, hungry eyes and jealous green gazes bore into her from every angle, but it wasn't anything that Carla wasn't used to. Men had always pined after her and women had always been scandalously resentful of her; that hadn't changed now she lived in Gotham City.

It had been two weeks since her birthday and despite being another year older and supposedly wiser, Carla found herself once again in the Iceberg Lounge, only that Thursday evening, the company was different to usual.

Jonathan was sat beside her in the black leather booth, a scattering of drinks across a smooth table where thick folded hands sat clasped and heavy words were exchanged.

"I want that bastard to pay for what he did, for what he's doing to my men and to my city. You understand me? He can't get away with this."

"He won't, Mr Falcone. Whoever this Joker is, I'll show him something that'll wipe that smile from his face," Jonathan assured.

Carmine Falcone was a greying man with hollow eyes and a white suit, a cigar tucked into his breast pocket and a deep, rich cologne emitting from his lined skin. He wore large gold rings and an obnoxiously expensive watch which made him look rather ridiculous most of the time, but nobody ever said that to his face, of course.

Carla paid no mind to Carmine, even when he was sat opposite her with a narrowed gaze and intimidating presence. She didn't find him intimidating per se, but others did, and Carla strangely admired him for that.

It seemed like Jonathan wasn't explicitly afraid of the man that more or less ran Gotham either, but Carla couldn't understand why. Jonathan's confidence was noteworthy and she liked the way he held his own on a stage where most people would crumble, but the Doctor had never struck her as the type of man to look Carmine Falcone in the eyes and smile.

The conversation that night was dull, at least to Carla's ears. She knew why she was there but she didn't care for the formalities, leaving it to Jonathan to discuss the terms and conditions of whatever deal it was he was there to secure.

Eavesdropping was a bad habit Carla had but around Carmine, she knew better than to listen in on a conversation that she didn't need to know the details of. She could feel the boss watching her from the corner of his eye while he and Jonathan spoke, making sure she carried on filing her nails or rummaging around in her purse for a lipgloss and compact mirror.

It was only when she finally looked him in the eye, however, that Carmine spoke to her.

"Are we boring you, sweetheart?"

Carla's still expression didn't waver, a relaxed face with lips pulled into a thin line and dark-lined eyes that blinked once, slowly.

"Yes, actually."

He smiled at her before looking at Jonathan, "Doctor Crane, why don't you call for a car to take Doctor Fiori home."

"I can walk."

Carmine scoffed with a shake of his head, "There's a lot of bad people in this city, a lot of danger. Jonathan will get you a car, won't you, Doctor?"

Jonathan sat frozen for a moment before pulling off his glasses and nodding with a small shrug of his shoulders. Carla said nothing as she slipped out of the booth and collected her fur coat, pulling it over her arms while Jonathan ordered her a cab.

They lingered outside in the cold, the twins on the door paying no attention to them, talking between themselves in a hushed tone and staring down any civilians that were minding their own business strolling past.

"I could've walked," Carla mumbled, lighting a cigarette as Jonathan shivered. He declined her offer of one.

"If he says to get you a car, I'm getting you a damn car. And you're getting in it, too."

She rolled her eyes, warm at the thought that Jonathan knew her enough to have to highlight the rules, assuming she would absolutely disregard the car when it arrived and walk home anyway.

It took five minutes before the cab arrived and Jonathan opened the door for her, peering down with his arm resting on the roof of the black car, eyes looking grey in the darkness of the night.

"See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Jonathan."

He smiled and closed the door, watching her drive away before heading back inside and out of the cold.

Traffic was backed up for miles in the city, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Carla sat patiently in the back of the cab as they crawled through the streets at a snails pace, though finally lost all shreds of the calm temperament when she realised it was going to take them another half an hour for her to walk four blocks back to her apartment.

She left the cab driver with a tip and a friendly goodnight before heading down a side street that would bring her out just a few minutes walk away from her building. It wasn't raining on that particular evening so Carla didn't mind the walk, though started to regret her shining moment of naïvety when she heard a pack of footsteps behind her.

Carla knew better than to turn around and look, so she didn't, but that didn't make much of a difference when she felt a strong hand pull harshly on her shoulder and slam her against the wall, knocking the breath from her chest and leaving her eyes wide.

The side street was quiet and the buildings were so close together it was like they were built on top of one another, huge, looming shadows breaking no way for light to cast down, leaving her almost entirely in the dark.

"That her?" One voice said.

There were three men surrounding her, all of them in dark clothing with hats and scarves, wide shoulders and bruised fists. Gold teeth shined against the few dregs of light that fed down the alleyway and Carla almost became frightened, but didn't.

"It's her alright," the one with his forearm against her neck snarled, keeping her pushed against the brick, "You know Carmine Falcone, don't you?"

His tone was teasing and his sickly smile made Carla want to wretch, "No, I don't."

He laughed and shook his head, "Course you don't, of course you don't. So you're not Carla Fiori, hm? Because you fuckin' look like her."

"It's embarasing to be wrong," Carla flashed her eyes playfully, "I won't taunt you about it, though."

"Get her in the damn car."

Carla was quick to flex her wrist and grab the knife that slipped from beneath the sleeve of her coat, though she hadn't been quite as slick about it as she thought, feeling strong knuckles grab her veins so tightly her fingers uncurled and the knife clattered to the floor.

"Nice try, princess," he grinned, pulling her back down the alley towards a car with its engine running, "Get in."

She rolled her eyes and sunk down into the backseat of the car, irritated by the inconvenience more than anything else. She still wasn't afraid, that emotion very rarely managed to capture Carla, but the gun that the man held pointed at her head as he sat beside her was starting to make her slightly nervous.

"Can't you just tell me what you want? I know people, I might be able to help."

"What I want," the man driving said, swerving narrowly through cars as they took backroads heading towards the Narrows, "Is for Falcone to know that if he takes one of Maroni's men, we take one of his."

"I'm not a man," Carla said seriously, face flat and emotionless.

He glanced in his rear view mirror and chuckled, laughing wildly as he slapped the man in the passenger seat on the arm, "Did you hear that? Did you fuckin' hear that? She should be a comedian or something a - oh fuck."

Carla pressed herself back against the seat with her hands gripping the door handle when something crashed down onto the hood of the car, making the vehicle career straight into a lamppost. The driver immediately got out and the man beside Carla grabbed her by the collar of her coat, pressing the gun against her temple with sweat running down his face as he watched through the window, smoke from the blown out engine making it difficult to see anything at all.

There was an echo of two screams that melted into the nature of Gotham, hard to distinguish whether they belonged to the two men that had jumped out of the car, or someone else entirely. Ruckus followed with what sounded like the repeated pounding of something against the side of the car until it stopped.

Carla was frozen and so was the man beside her, he turned to look at her with wide eyes and a question behind them, clear that he had no idea what to do next, and that he absolutely did not want to get out of the car.

Though it turned out he had no choice, a fist flew through the window and shattered glass sprayed across the backseat, Carla flinching and shielding her face with her hands as she heard the firing of the gun ring in her ears, though felt no pain at all.

Instead, she saw the burned out hole of a bullet that had flown through the headrest of the seat she was sat in, only then did she feel fear truly, realising what she had narrowly escaped by a handful of inches.

The man was dragged out of the car by his neck and the gun landed on the sidewalk. Carla caught her breath, her hands shaking at the death she'd scarcely avoided once again. Men didn't scare Carla and neither did threats, nor did guns or knives or anything worse, and so she'd never really feared when she was thrown into the back of that car, safe in the knowledge that if she couldn't save herself, someone would avenge her death in the most painful way they knew how.

Someone else saving her, however, that hadn't been on her cards. Carla thought she'd used up all of her luck when she was saved after pushed from the terrace of the Wayne Tower, but that clearly hadn't been the case.

She leapt from the car and stumbled back onto the sidewalk, watching with wide eyes and a tense jaw as The Batman held the gunman by the throat, landing punch after punch to his broken and bleeding face, no words coming from the victim's bloody lips anymore, just quiet, meaningless groans.

Bruce dropped the man when he noticed Carla stood staring. The limp body fell to the floor without resistance and Bruce took five slow paces towards Carla, noticing the way that again, she didn't look afraid despite her ordeal.

"What, are you following me now?" She said, chest rising and falling as she worked quickly to swallow the short surge of panic over the firing of the gun next to her face.

Bruce just stood there, staring at her from behind the mask. She looked calm, un-phased and unmistakably her in a way she always was, narrowed eyes and a confident tone, chin up and shoulders back. It almost made him smile.

"Not much of a talker, hm?" She followed up the silence, "Good, me neither."

The Batman hadn't crossed Carla's mind much since their first encounter, only when his name had cropped up in conversation. She didn't particularly care who it was beneath that black mask but the thought was provoking enough to make her wonder sometimes, daydreaming about the dark eyes and the strong jaw that hadn't hesitated to grab her and save her from an untimely death.

Now, he'd done it again.

The intrigue was still there as Carla looked at him. Tall and shadowed, serious in a way that even rivalled herself, but still, didn't intimidate her. His face was clear of any scars which made her wonder how a vigilante with fists as hard as his could have skin so pure it looked like silk.

"Thanks, I guess." Carla said, looking him up and down as she pulled the sides of her fur coat tighter around her body while the wind whipped around the sharp edges of the buildings.

She seemed unimpressed, almost annoyed by him and the way he was, silent and emotionless. Again, it made Bruce want to crack a smile at the irony of somebody like her looking into a mirror for the first time, but that part of him stayed hidden.

"Be careful who you trust," he said, "This city is full of rats."

She looked at him and showed the first sliver of emotion that evening, a toying smile on the corners of her lips and a glint in her eye. Sirens could be heard in the distance and Bruce glanced to the side, jaw tightening at the building noise.

"Don't they say that bats are just rats with wings?"

Carla walked away and Bruce fled in the opposite direction, though as soon as her back was turned, he allowed himself to smile.