Author's notes: No, I'm not dead, just incredibly preoccupied right now. So here is my attempt at inserting a new character into an already-existing scene. My first go at superhero film fanfics…
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The mobsters sat around the table in varying states of patience. The Chechen, a tall man from Eastern Europe, and Salvatore Maroni, an American man of average height and build sat on one side, surrounded by their henchmen. On the other side was Gambol, a tall and permanently furious African-American man, and like his colleagues, he was guarded by numerous thugs.
Next to Maroni, a tall man calmly rested in his seat, barely seeming to blink. He was dressed relatively casually, wearing a white T-Shirt, leather jacket and jeans, though he could have worn more formal clothes if he wanted to. With green eyes and brown hair, he could have blended into several of Gotham's crowds if it weren't for his criminal record. Like all the other men in this room, he was wanted by the new and zealous District Attorney, the few police officers that didn't take a pile of money as an answer and the infamous caped crusader.
His name was Alex Drew, though a few gave him the nickname of "The Cockney". Born in London, he'd arrived in Gotham and quickly switched to the morally frowned upon side of business. Joining a small-time gang with pathetic hopes, he'd fought his way up the ranks, with the odd murder helping things speed up. Eventually, a plan the leader had concocted proved to be a complete and utter cock-up, and the group had slowly died from ennui after most of their members were slaughtered by Gotham City Police.
After killing the final few members, he'd joined Falcone's crime empire, quickly rising up the ranks here as well with similar methods. When the deal with some men in black and the asylum doctor had been messed up, Drew had appointed himself one of the new crime lords of the city. Nobody in the underworld had challenged him; in fact the other three bosses in this room had struck a pact with him.
The television turned on with a reluctant noise that the Londoner couldn't describe, and a man of Asian heritage appeared on the screen, a man Gambol had called "Lau". He instantly had everyone's attention, but not their good manners.
"What the hell is this?"
"Gentlemen, please."
Silence descended upon the room, and instantly Lau was the most important person there, even though he wasn't at the hideout physically.
"As you are all aware, one of our deposits was stolen. A relatively small amount. Sixty-eight million."
To the average citizen, this would have been enough to never have to work for the rest of your life. To the criminal, however, this wouldn't last as long with the purchasing of firearms, explosives, alcohol, prostitutes and any other items, especially when the money was shared out.
The Chechen blinked, surprised.
"Who's stupid enough to steal from us?"
"I'm told the man who arranged the heist calls himself Joker."
Again, the Chechen was confused.
"Who the hell is that?"
Maroni finally chose to speak up.
"Just some two-bit whack-job who wears a cheap purple suit and make-up. He's not the problem- he's nobody. The problem is our money being tracked by the cops."
Drew nodded in agreement. He'd guessed that the police would try tracking criminal money sooner or later, but most of the others hadn't. Gambol growled like a dog waiting to be unleashed and many of the lower ranks looked like they'd die of shock.
"How did you find out we were being tracked?" The question was aimed at Maroni, but Drew barely turned around. He was focusing on the screen at the same time.
"Wuertz told me. You'd be surprised what suckers for money Loeb's men in uniform are."
Lau cleared his throat, and silence was restored a second time.
"Thanks to Mr. Maroni's well-placed sources we know that police have indeed identified our banks using marked bills and are planning to seize your funds today."
This drew startled reactions from everyone. Gambol hissed louder and Drew compared him to a bull which had been kicked in the genitalia. The Chechen's hands curled into fists and one of Maroni's lieutenants almost choked to death when his drink went down the wrong way.
"Some dealer we've got hooked up with."
Gambol instantly shot the moaner a look full of rage and the criminal shut his mouth before a gun barrel could be put down his throat.
"You promised us safe, clean laund-"
Lau interrupted the Chechen, his certainty they'd be fine carved into his face.
"With the investigation ongoing, none of you can risk hanging on to your own proceeds. And since the enthusiastic new DA has put all my competitors out of business, I'm your only option."
Maroni nodded. Gambol was next to show he understood with a grunt of acknowledgement, following by Chechen and Drew barely moving their heads.
"So what are you proposing?"
"Moving all deposits to one secure location. Not a bank."
Gambol finally opened his mouth. Drew just hoped he'd be sensible.
"Where then?"
"Obviously, nobody can know but me. If the police were to gain leverage over one of you, everyone's money would be at stake."
The Chechen frowned.
"If it's not safe in Gotham, what stops them getting to you?"
Lau smiled, but Drew sensed there was no warmth in it, only smugness.
"As the money is moved I go to Hong Kong. Far from Dent's jurisdiction. And the Chinese will not extradite one of their own."
Drew finally chose to ask a question, but the words died in his throat as false laughter filled the room. A chill ran down his spine and it was as if the winter had just arrived but had started exclusively in this room.
A man had just walked through the door, and he looked like he'd come from hell's worst circus. His face was covered by an uneven mix of red, white and black make-up, and the Londoner suspected it was to enhance his hideous Glasgow smile. He wore a purple jacket and trousers, accompanied by a green shirt. If you had to take a guess, you'd most likely assume his appearance was based upon a clown outfit. Only an idiot would fail to recognise this anomaly of a human being as the Joker. The man who never stopped smiling.
"And I thought my jokes were bad."
Gambol once again reared his vicious head.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off."
The newcomer whipped something out his left pocket, and Maroni spotted it first. It was a pencil, recently sharpened.
"How about a magic trick? I'm going to make this pencil-" he waved with his hands while he spoke, "-disappear."
The tall crime lord refused to be annoyed any further, and he nodded to his bodyguard. The signal to show this clown out of here. The mobster rose out his seat, and fists raised, marched towards the Joker.
And that was when he sidestepped.
In one smooth movement, he moved aside, then grabbed the unfortunate criminal who'd been sent to evict him from the area by the top of his neck, then slammed his head, face first, down onto the table. The pencil remained where it was for a split second until it went through the guard's eye socket and into his brain. He fell limp at once and slid off the table. Something warm squirted a man next to the Chechen and the red stains left on his shirt revealed it to be blood. Not that the others were no good at recognizing it when they saw it.
"Ta daa! It's… gone!"
Drew flinched slightly, Maroni's intake of breath suddenly sped up, Gambol stared and the Chechen looked at the guard's murderer, surprised. All the Joker did was bow mockingly and grin.
"And by the way, the suit wasn't cheap. You should know. You bought it!"
The Joker chuckled. Gambol did not, and would have followed his minion into the same fate if it weren't for the Chechen gesturing for him to sit.
"Sit down."
Gambol shifted uncomfortably, but stayed put.
"I want to hear proposition."
The Joker gave a nod of thanks and stood back up again.
"A year ago, these cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you. What happened? Did your balls drop off? See, a guy like me-"
"A freak."
Snorts came from the lower ranks, but the Chechen ignored Gambol's remarks, Maroni sighed and Drew rolled his eyes. Way to get us killed, you idiot.
The Joker continued. "A guy like me… I know why you choose to have your group therapy sessions in broad daylight."
There was silence.
"The Batman. He's shown Gotham your true colours- and Dent's just the beginning."
The Joker raised his finger and pointed at Lau.
"And as for his so-called "plan"-" here he scoffed, "-Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him, and when he does, he'll make him squeal."
The Joker smiled at Lau, and the Chinese man shivered.
"I can tell the squealers every time."
The tall Eastern European turned to face the Joker, and opened his mouth to speak.
"What you propose?"
"It's simple. We kill the Batman."
If the Joker expected cheers and applause, he would have been disappointed. Gambol shook his head, most of his thugs jeering. Maroni just stared at the clown, while Drew and some younger lieutenants snorted with laughter or disbelief and the Chechen refused to comment.
"I'm afraid you need to work out your plans better, my smiling friend. Many have tried before you to do the exact same thing. Crane, Falcone, those men we were working with recently. They all failed," said Drew.
"Firstly, I don't have plans. I'm an agent of chaos. Secondly, they were all people with plans, and look where it got them. I'm different."
"If it's so easy, why haven't you done it already?" Maroni enquired.
"Like my mother told me, if you're good at something, never do it for free."
Gambol foolishly risked his neck again with another vulgar question.
"What was she, a whore?"
There was laughter, but again Maroni and Drew were not amused, and the Chechen saw anger on the Joker's face.
"Another comment like that about my mother again, and you'll pay for it."
Immediately, conversations came to a sudden halt.
"And now back to business."
The Chechen continued on, hopeful the deal hadn't been completely lost.
"How much do you want?"
"Half."
The single word was more provoking to the entire mob than anything else the Joker or Lau had done. Maroni, the Chechen and Drew looked at one another, unsure what to say, but Gambol was simply furious. The make-up wearing lunatic rose from his seat and shrugged casually.
"You don't deal with this now, soon Gambol here won't even be able to get a nickel for his grandma-"
"Enough with the clown!"
The tall African-American moved forward, now looking like a lion that an idiot had woken up. Immediately, the Joker's right hand pulled at part of his jacket, and it came open, revealing numerous grenades.
"Gambol, sit down before you get us killed!"
The Joker nodded.
"The Londoner's right. Let's not blow things out of proportion."
"You think you can just steal from us and walk away?" Gambol growled.
"He already has," Maroni cut in.
"Yeah!" The Joker was smiling, like the cat which had drunk all the milk.
"I'm putting the word out on the streets- five hundred grand for this clown dead! A million alive so I can teach him some manners first!"
If this was meant to intimidate this odd man, it wasn't working. He shurgged and turned to the others.
"Let me know when you're willing to take this seriously and change your minds."
The Joker strolled out, seemingly happy with what he'd done.
After staring at one another for what felt like eternity, Maroni came to a decision and turned to Lau.
"When can you move the money?"
The Chinese man looked visibly relaxed, and calmed down, smiling.
"I already have. For obvious reasons, I couldn't wait for your permission. Rest assured your money is safe."
And with those last words, the television link to Lau was cut off.