CHAPTER 1
Disclaimer & A/N: I do not own Batman: The Animated Series, as it belongs to Warner Bros. The series ended after the airing of it's final episode on October 31, 1998, so this episode takes place mid-November of the same year. Enjoy. Read and Review.
A Tale Tell Joke
Deep in the slums of Gotham City, a crowd of mysterious figures collaborate inside the basement of a rundown bar. The one window is cracked to the point that nothing inside is viewable, and the sign is hanging by a thread. In the basement, a single light bulb brightens.
"Much better," the unmistakable, sinister voice remarks brightly. "Good evening, gentlemen. I have, for you all, an irresistible proposition!" The Joker gives them all a wide grin. He gestures towards two muscular, middle aged men, who immediately lifted nine canisters, similar in size to oxygen tanks onto the table next to the Joker.
"I can supply each and every one of you with one million dollars worth of Venom right now. Half price. Sell for double. And we all get rich, whatta ya say?" He took a look at each of them, waiting for a response.
"I'll take two mil's wort'." A man in the crowd said with a New Jersey accent. He pushed through the crowd with two largely built men following him thuggishly. One wore a slick, blue jacket and black slacks, and had a toothpick in between his lips. The other wore a green, four pocketed jacket and brown slacks. Both wore identical frowns. The boss was about forty, with graying hair; his face was starting to get wrinkles. The man smoked a cigar, and wore a silky, black tuxedo without the tie.
"Glad to hear it," The Joker said, clenching his teeth for fear of shrieking and scaring the man off. "You, of course have the money?"
"Yep," The man's voice was thin, his accent not as thick as before. The other man didn't smile, snapped his fingers and turned away, sliding in between his henchmen, who dropped a single briefcase onto the table and shouldered a single canister and shuffled up the basement stairs.
"Wonderful," The Joker said gleefully. "Are there any more takers?" The Joker asked. Five men shuffled forward, each tossing briefcases and rolls of money onto the table as they practically dragged their canisters of Venom away. One of Joker's henchmen whispered into his sleeve and as the last man left, five men came down the stairs lugging more Venom. There were now, again, nine canisters on the table. Three fairly large men took a canister each over their shoulders as one of them slammed a check for one and a half million dollars that looked as though it had been scrawled in earnest.
This continued for five minutes, mostly briefcases were stacked on the table. Six men were left, five henchmen and a Boss. The Boss looked at the Joker apologetically.
"I'm sorry, Joker, but I'm afraid we ain't interested."
While the Joker's eyes had gleamed with every purchase, they gained a dangerous, dark look in them. Though, outside, he looked downcast.
"But why not?" He whined, looking truly anguished. One of the henchmen seemed to sneeze into his arm.
"'Scuse me, Joker." The man grunted childishly.
"Not at all, Donnie," The Joker responded, his look of anguish gone, his eyes never left the men across from him. There was a feminine grunt as someone thudded their way noisily down the stairs into the basement. Harley was visible; a large gun was in her grasp, strapped over her shoulder.
"Don't think 'bout it, girlie," The other henchman pressed his gun to her head. The opposing group drew their guns. The traitor maneuvered his way around Harley, his gun leveled at her head.
"Oh, yea'?" Harley said with a dangerous edge in her voice. She squeezed the trigger and the fully automatic artillery gun went off, tearing the man apart and dropping three others behind him before the others began firing their guns. There were a few screams before silence. Harley had jerked her gun from side to side, mowing the men down. There were moans and small yells from the men who were alive, unable to stand from their injuries. Harley stalked predatorily towards the heap of men on the floor and fired into all of them again, screaming angrily in a blind rage until the gun ran out.
She set the gun down in a very ladylike manner before turning toward the Joker, who stood from his prone position against a wall next to a now dead Donnie, who had two bullets in his torso and one just above his right eyebrow. Blood covered all three of them.
"A-Are you alright, Harl'?" He asked tentatively.
"A-Ok, Mistah, J!" She said cheerfully, giving a salute.
"Lovely," He said, looking around. He grabbed Donnie's wrist and spoke in the microphone. "Would all personnel please regroup in the basement, all personnel please report to the basement. Over." He dropped Donnie's wrist and looked at the table. He gathered eighteen rolls of money and gave one to every henchman that came down the steps. The Joker dragged Donnie over and into the pile of dead men.
"Alright, fellas, get the stiffs outta he'ah!" Harley ordered. "I want this place stiff and blood free within the hour." The men sprinted up the stairs to gather up bed sheets and mops from the bartender. The Joker smiled at Harley.
"Splendid job, Harl'" He exclaimed happily, patting her on the head. She stared at him admiringly, clasping her hands together.
"Thanks, Mistah J!" She chirped. Joker ignored her and gathered up the checks, stuffed them into his pocket, and snatched up four briefcases, two under each arm. Harley followed suit, holding two under each arm and hooking three fingers each around another two cases and grunted the entire way up with no help from the Joker.
Wayne Manor, Gotham City
"Bruuuuuuce!"
"What, Tim?" Bruce thundered up the stair towards Tim Drake's room. His face remained a mask of neutrality as he caught sight of the hurricane attack of Tim's room. Tim was hanging upside down from the ceiling fan. Bruce gave an amused look.
"No." Tim replied indignantly, crossing his arms across his chest. "Did you read the paper," He pointed to a discarded newspaper on the ground. "Bane had an overdose, but his place was empty. Not a single drop of Venom!"
"What do you think happened?" Bruce asked, his eyes narrowed. Had Bane been robbed?
"The Knightbreed," Tim said gravely. Bruce frowned.
The Knightbreed were a radical vigilante group that had been inspired by Batman. They wore navy blue cowls similar to his, navy blue trench coats with black shirts underneath, black pants, and dark brown army boots. They all armed themselves with daggers, handguns and semi-automatics. They made Bruce seriously wish he had not become Batman. In the past month, thirteen had been killed due to shootouts involving the Knightbreed. Bane very well could have been attacked by the Knightbreed, but not robbed. They were still vigilantes, no matter how extreme.
"No, Tim," Bruce said. "Another criminal is at work here." He looked deep in thought. Two-Face was recently incarcerated. Mr. Freeze had given up crime recently. The Riddler was put in a mental institution. The Joker had a truce with Bane. But-
"Penguin?" Tim offered, voicing Bruce's thoughts. Tim dropped into a prone position onto the clothes-littered floor. He shook his head to get his head together and stretched his arms briefly.
"Just might be, Tim," Bruce said, exiting the room. "Just might be." He closed the door behind him, leaving Tim on the floor, continuing to read the newspaper.
The Batcave. 11:07 p.m
Bruce, now fully clothed in his Batman garb with his cowl pulled down, typed away at the Bat-Computer. Alfred, ever faithful, stood behind him with a wine glass of orange juice. He was clothed in his usual tuxedo. He wore white gloves and was absentmindedly dusting the glass of the costume cabinet six feet away.
"Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired stepping towards Batman, offering the glass. Batman took it, downed it, and put it back on the platter.
"Thanks, Alfred," Batman said, typing with a determined look on his face.
"What exactly, pray tell, are you investigating this time?"
"Bane's overdose," Batman said quickly. "Foul play's suspected. Got to get to the bottom of it." Alfred rolled his eyes and strolled away. Batman stared at the screen. He had gotten through into the Justice League space vision camera satellites. He rewinded and watched various colorful, clown-like thugs assassinate drivers and steal trucks full of Venom. Batman growled.
On the screen, he zoomed in to see Harley Quinn sneak through the side window with a needle that had an extremely large scale and barrel. The needle was empty when she left the building and handed it to a henchman wearing a pink jacket, green pants, and clown make-up. She got in the passenger seat of one of the trucks and they departed.
"Joker," Batman hissed angrily, getting up from the computer and jumping into the Batmobile.
Inside the Batmobile, Bruce video called Nightwing, it patched in fuzzy, and his voice wasn't very clear.
"Bruce...Bruce, what is it?"
"Dick, where are you?"
"Across-Atlantic Ocean. Just finished fighti- Deathstroke in Britain- Fell off Big Ben."
"Are you ok?"
"What's wrong, Bruce?" Nightwing's voice was clearer than before.
"Harley Quinn's killed Bane. She's given all the Venom to Joker."
"I'm on my way," said Nightwing. "We have to stop the distribution."
"I know that," Batman said evenly. "The satellites caught them in a bar in Gotham, and then an abandoned warehouse in Bludhaven. 89th Street. The trucks are right outside." Nightwing became inaudible as he maxed the speed his Wing-Jet could go. Nightwing disconnected the call and Batman went up to ninety-five miles per hour. Then one hundred. Then one twenty. It finally settled on one hundred and thirty miles per hour. He was there in six minutes. Batman parked the Batmobile a few streets away, scaled one of the houses and jumped from roof to roof. He landed on the roof as stealthily as he could. It creaked and groaned with every step. He used a batarang to saw away a portion of the roof. It was so dark out that no light shone through the hole he created.
"Rich! Rich!" screamed Joker as he threw handfuls of money in the air.
""How much, Mistah J?" asked Harley, who was jumping up and down excitedly. The Joker replied proudly,
"Sixty million!" All twenty people in the room cheered loudly. The Joker went rigid. "What the hell are you four doing in here?!" He screamed angrily at the four men just inside the room.
"We was-"One man started stupidly but was interrupted by the Joker.
"You're supposed to be guarding the merchandise, not laughing like a buffoon!" yelled the Joker at the top of his lungs as he swung a knife, slashing it across the man's cheek.
"GO!" The men rushed out the door. "And you," he hissed, rounding on Harley. "Keep them in line! Move!" Harley scurried away, grabbing a plank of wood on her way out. The Joker sighed, slumping down; he looked at the fifteen men dressed in clown attire.
"Need anything, boss?" a red haired man asked. He sounded younger than the rest.
"Competent help," grumbled Joker. He tossed a bill at the man. "Go get me a-"
There was an audible scream outside.
"Mistah J," screamed Harley from outside. "There's some nut out here- AHHHH!" Harley screamed as an electric noise sounded.
"God dammit," the Joker groaned. "You six, go fix the problem." He gestured to the six men armed with shotguns and daggers. They nodded and sprinted outside. Gunfire sounded and more screams were heard. Batman vaulted down and onto the round table with playing cards stacked neatly in the center. They scattered as he landed on the table and lunged at Joker.
"You think you can ruin people's lives without consequence," Batman said kneeing the Joker in the stomach and hurling him into the wall. "You're wrong!"
Batman flung batarang after batarang that tied up the henchmen. Three of them dodged and fired off bullets that merely grazed his arms and legs. He grabbed the nearest one and flung him into his comrade. He kicked the other in the stomach and punched him in the face as he began his arch of descent. The Joker flung his knife at Batman. It flew past him, making Batman believe he had missed. He heard a grunt of pain and whirled around to see Nightwing fall to the ground with a knife four inches away from his sternum.
"Nightwing!" yelled Batman. Joker laughed hysterically, flailing around wildly. He stood, a brick in one hand, he smashed it against the side of Batman's head. Batman staggered as blood ran down his head and nearly bled through his cowl. He whirled around and high kicked Joker in the moth. He gave a cry, dropped the brick onto one of his henchmen and wobbled around. Batman swung his fist into the Joker's jaw, which gave an audible crack, and shoved him back against the wall. Blood ran down the Joker's mouth as he stumbled down to the floor.
"Ugh," Joker groaned. Batman ran over to Nightwing. He helped Nightwing up. Nightwing gritted his teeth irritably.
"I'm fine," Nightwing growled. He pulled the knife out, tossed it away, and left with the physical aid of Batman. Batman helped put Nightwing in the Batmobile.
"Here," Batman said as he closed the door.
"No…" Nightwing moaned. "Bike…"
"It's not safe." replied Batman as he hopped in and began to drive. He used one of the cellular phones a henchman had on him, dialed 911, and let it ring before tossing it near the warehouse. The Joker had to be behind bars as soon as possible.
TO BE CONTINUED…A/N: This is not the last we see of the Joker. And this will never ever be a one-shot. Leave a review, tell me what you think, and continue reading.