"The Starling City Police Department has declined to comment about the curious circumstances of the current crimes, but the we have been notified that the death count is rising. It was thought to be the work a previously unknown serial killer, but Captain Quentin Lance, of Star City Police Department, has assured us the crimes are unrelated and bear no resemblance to a recurring crime."
Felicity watched the television idly, listening to the female voice as it reverberated through the now empty room. The news reported had been speaking for all but four or five minutes, and Felicity was already tired of listening; although she had been looking for news about the recent murders.
Her friends were currently out on the streets, investigating the occurrences. It was strange, very unlike what normally happened in Starling City. And it was recent too. She had done quite a bit of digging and investigating herself, and Diggle had been the first to suggest that perhaps a new serial killer was on the rise, but then, as the news reporter had stated, the crimes seemed rather unlikely, as they came off completely unrelated; as she dug through her records of them. All the victims were mostly unrelated, the methods of killing varied, but most involved a direct stab wound or blunt force trauma, or some type of strange accident. And strangely, in a few cases, the cause of death could not be determined. But there was one thing that all the victims shared...
They were all active criminals.
Every single one of the victims in the recent homicides were still active criminals, mostly higher end; the more dangerous type and less the occasional theft or beating types of criminals. To Felicity, it seemed perhaps the work of not one person, but perhaps a group of people banding together to form a sort of 'wannabe' vigilante group. Although they were going about being a vigilante in the wrong way.
She knew what vigilantes were supposed to be like. Sometimes she thought that she was in a movie or a comic book or something, instead of in real life. The events that transpired around her sometimes seemed too unrealistic to be true...but she knew they were really happening. And there were times, she wished, that she could be out there too, like Thea, and Diggle and...and Oliver.
But she also knew that they needed her right were she was, situated behind her computer, feeding them the things they needed to know and helping them from where no one else could. And so she resigned to her place with a smile on her face, knowing that even though she wasn't out on the front lines like her friends, she was still doing something to help; for the greater good.
But it wasn't just homicides that were happening around the city. Other strange occurrences were being reported all throughout Starling. And the most interesting one she had received was of a victim who had survived one of the attempted murders. He was a recently released convict, who had reported that the attacker had been wearing strange clothing; he had described the clothing as something akin to a costume. Black, with ornate carvings in what he described as pieces of silver colored armor. And he was very specific that his attacker had been wearing a hood and a mask, and carried a large knife, not unlike a sword or katana.
She sighed as she readjusted her glasses on her nose, reaching a hand up to rub at her tired eyes. She had been sitting here staring at this computer for half of the night, and her eyes were beginning to sting. She yawned loudly, shaking her head as she stood to stretch, trying to push all thought of Oliver out of her head.
The thought of Oliver Queen stung her deeper than anything she had ever felt in her entire life. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of it, and she swallowed it's bitter taste back down. Never had she felt so betrayed by anyone in her life...truthfully she could no longer even call him Oliver.
He was Al Sah Him or Ra's or whoever the fuck he was supposed to be now.
She rolled her eyes in annoyance as she turned back to her computer, locking the screen and shutting it down.
It had been a long night. She was tired.
She sat back down on her stool, leaning down to readjust a shoe, listening idly to the television as she straightened herself back up and did a once over of the room with her eyes, making sure everything was ready for lock down. Once she was sure everything was in place, she heaved an exhausted sigh, turning and grasping the remote with her right hand, lifting the remote and aiming up at the screen. And it was then the the news report caught her attention.
A series of long beeps, indicating an urgent message sounded from the television, cutting off the sports news, and it caught her attention immediately. The woman reporter from earlier was once again on the screen, a concerned look on her face as she turned away from someone off screen, once again looking into the camera as she opened her mouth, her face a mask of worried lines and a look of concern. Her voice faltered slightly as she said, "Uhm," she swallowed, her throat straining, "We have just received breaking news from the Starling City Police Department." Felicity watched with brows lowered as the screen cut to the face of Quentin Lance, positioned outside the front doors of the Starling City Police Department.
He squared his jaw, his face a hard mask of seriousness as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice rough and low as he spoke, "We have just received urgent news from Gotham City." A small widget appeared on the top left of the screen, next to Quentin's head with a picture of Gotham City's skyline, "All travel, into and out of, Gotham City, has been shut down and suspended until further notice, after a reported terrorist attack within the city limits."
Felicity's eyes widened as she stared at the screen, mouth agape, as Quentin continued; "Police reported a terrorist attack after several large explosions throughout the city, causing unknown amounts of damage and toppling several buildings."
Felicity gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth as she exhaled slowly. If she remembered correctly there was a vigilante like her friends who operated out of Gotham City. And Gotham wasn't far from Starling at all. What if Starling was next?
The widget in the corner changed suddenly, as it showed a live image of what Felicity would assume was Gotham City. The image took her breath away. It did look like there had been a terrorist attack. There was quite a few fires scattered throughout the city, a thick, heavy, cloud of smoke filling the air and blocking out the sky, and it was very hard to miss the several buildings that had been toppled. They took the image away quickly, and the camera focused once again on Quentin.
His voice was hard when he spoke, "Gotham is now being declared as a level six catastrophe; all entrances to the city are being blocked by police barricades, and anyone attempting to enter the city will be stopped by police, and relief efforts are to be sent out within the next couple of hours. As of now, the cause of the attack and those responsible remain unknown, but anyone with information is being urged to contact the Starling City Police Department or the GCPD immediately."
It was with that, that his speech was concluded, the screen cutting back to the original program, the sports report.
Felicity simply stood in place, staring at the television for a few long moments, before her delicately manicured hand reached downward to her pocket, fumbling to pull her cell phone from it's confines as she unlocked it and thumbed through the contacts until Diggle's name came up. She tapped on it quickly, her nails making a clicking sound on the screen as she raised it to her ear, listening to the ringing on the other end. She tapped her foot impatiently, worry and panic coursing through her.
She cursed herself for being so easily panicked, and resigned to working on it in the future, just as Diggle's familiar voice entered her ears from the other end.
"Hello?"
"Diggle!" She took a second to breath deeply, trying to calm her voice, "Tell me you have anyone you know personally in Gotham?"
"No, why do you ask?" His voice took on a more serious tone as he began to pick up on the tones of worry and panic in Felicity's voice, "Is something wrong?"
Felicity swallowed the lump in her throat as she answered, "Where are you? Are you near a TV?"
"Well," Diggle sighed, standing from the kitchen chair and crossing over into his living room, dropping himself down onto the couch and reaching toward the coffee table for the remote, "I am now."
"Good. Turn on the news and see for yourself."
There was a long stretch of silence on Diggle's end, and Felicity heard the sound of the television in the background as he flipped channels, and then, echoing in the background, she heard the female reporter's voice.
Diggle watched the television as the reporter repeated the emergency message. Gotham? This was nothing new. The damn city had more going on in one night then all of their cities combined. It wasn't a surprise that something had happened there. But nothing of this caliber had ever happened. From the scant pictures they had shown the city seemed to be in a state of upheaval. Diggle shook his head as he dropped his attention from the screen to the carpet on the floor. This was definitely new. If they were sending in relief efforts and closing down travel than something serious must really have happened at Gotham. He readjusted the phone to his ear as he spoke, "I saw it."
"It's crazy right?"
"Are they sending any of our officers over to assist?" Diggle's voice was flat. He could hear Felicity's fingers tapping the keys on her keyboard, and it took her a few moments before she answered, her voice shaking slightly.
"I'm not sure. From what I'm getting off the website and radio waves, it seems like they just received a distress call from the GCPD." Her fingers worked faster, and her eyes darted around the screen as she searched for the information Diggle had wanted. "Aha!" She exclaimed, her face stretching into a wide smile, pressing her phone harder between her shoulder and her ear. "Got it."
Her voice streamed easily over the phone as he listened to her prattle, "They received the call from a Commissioner James W. Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department."
"Is it legit? I just want to know if we need to get involved. Laurel wouldn't want anything to happen to her father if he headed over to Gotham for a phony distress call. Enough weird shit happens over there."
"Hm," Felicity searched over the information she had on the GCPD commissioner, going over it with a keen eye before she answered, scrolling over the information, "He seems legit. Really no record to speak of, aside for a few traffic tickets and the such. He's ex military, joined the GCPD a couple of years ago...appointed to commissioner within the last three years." There was a pause as Diggle listened to her clicking, "He was the one who worked the Wayne case. He was a detective back then."
"He worked with Wayne?" Diggle rolled his eyes. The guy was a dick. And far to young to working as a vigilante. But they really didn't have the room to talk. Thea wasn't much older than he was. Diggle sighed audibly, and Felicity stood from her slumped position, putting the phone back in her hand and turning her neck to rid herself of the cramp that had formed.
"He seems like a legit guy to me. No bad reps or anything. Pretty much a straight shooter."
"Alright then. Keep us updated."
"You wanna contact Laurel and Thea? Let them know?" Her question hung unanswered in the air for a moment before Diggle finally responded.
"Laurel'll probably find out from her father, but...yeah. Okay, I'll give em' a call."
A smile stretched across Felicity's face as she shut her laptop gingerly, "Thanks Diggle. We'll all appreciate it."
"Sure." He paused for a moment and the phone rustled a bit, "Goodbye Felicity. Be safe."
"You too."
And she hung up the phone.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Lance!"
His name echoed throughout the busy room, voices drifting about, creating a loud cacophony that was the Starling City Police Department on a Thursday evening. It was already a whole lot busier than it should have been on a Thursday at six, and they had twice the amount of officers working than was usual. Quentin navigated his way through the crowded room, pushing past a group of bunched officers, as he made his way toward the voice.
He disliked disorder, and hated chaos.
And boy did this take the fucking cake.
He despised Jim Gordon for calling him in and causing such a commotion in his police department. He didn't even want to get involved, but as a police captain, he couldn't just sit by and watch disorder consume an entire city. After all, he had taken a pledge as an officer of the law, and if another officer needed assistance, they he would try his best to be there.
Commissioner James W. Gordon had phoned him not even an hour ago, asking for a reinforcement of officers. After what the news was calling, 'a random terrorist attack', Gotham City and the GCPD seemed scrambled and broken.
It had taken him, with prodding from several other officers and the such, to make a decision. He had phoned Gordon just about two minutes ago, to make him aware that he would be sending some officers to assist with the disaster.
And of course the media bombarded him with questions and criticism, as did his fellow officers, about why he would go himself.
And of course his daughter was abhorred to the idea, worrying over him and telling him to stay. But in the end they both knew that he couldn't. It was his job. He was the Captain. If he wouldn't go himself, then there was no way he should send his men.
And so here he was, grabbing his coat from the officer that had called his name, walking out the door and getting into a transport vehicle, heading toward Gotham City. He had a sickly feeling in his stomach that swirled as he felt the vehicle start and lurch into motion, the sirens blaring in his ears.
He didn't like Gotham City.
It was ten times worse than his and any other city that he could possibly think of. Sure, Starling had it's own batch of costumed vigilantes and nasty villains, but Gotham...Yes, Gotham had it's own vigilante. If Lance remembered correctly the man wore a bat suit and beat the living shit out of anyone who dared to oppose him. But worse than that, Gotham had the worst assortment of criminals that Quentin had ever seen, or could even imagine. Several images danced across his eyes; Harvey Dent, Gotham's once 'white-knight', who was now a dual personality freak who flipped a coin do decide whether or not he should put a bullet in your head, the green plant woman who was crazy about mother nature or some stupid shit like that, the woman in the cat suit he'd heard about who could steal anything given the right circumstances...
And then there was...the Joker.
The Joker was on another level entirely, and Quentin was overjoyed that the villain did not occupy his city instead. Everyone in Gotham's surrounding area had been contacted personally by Gotham's own Batman, and the GCPD police commissioner, and had been warned profusely about Gotham's most notorious criminal. That guy was stuff out of nightmares, with chalk white skin that held the pallor of a corpse, that flip of bright green hair, those ruby red lips...and the smile that could chill you right down to your bones...
And then there was the laughter. The laughter was indescribable; the stuff that haunts you in nightmares.
All things Quentin had seen only on TV, however. He thanked the Lord he had never seen these things in life. And he had hoped he'd never have too. But here he was, heading to the worst city in possibly the entire continent. He just prayed he would never get the chance to meet the Joker...or any of them for that matter. But he guessed that if it happened, it happened.
He fingered his gun as they crossed the city lines, praying that it wasn't as bad as the news had portrayed it to be.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Survey the structural damage. Tell me which major buildings are still standing."
The voice was commanding, and it echoed off the damp cave walls as the owner crossed the grated floor in a pace that indicated his anxiety.
"No problem sir. It shall take me but a moment." Alfred's old hands traversed over the keyboard, as he looked up at the large computer screen in front of him. The ultrasonic images being portrayed on the screen showed an approximate amount of the damage that had been done in the area's of the explosions. Alfred frowned as he swiveled in his chair, turning to Bruce, who stood adjusting the cowl that now rested snugly upon his head; the silhouette of the Batman cast upon the dimly lit cave wall.
Bruce turned toward Alfred as the older man began to speak, his voice dry as he stood from his sitting position, "The are a quite a few major buildings left standing. Namely Wayne Industries, which has sustained minor structural damage, the National Bank of Gotham, which seems relatively untouched, the Royal Hotel, minus the damage sustained two years prior during 'you know who's' debut, and Gotham General Hospital."
Bruce stood still for a moment, taking it all in, as his gaze shifted from the floor to Alfred, then back to his armor, which he adjusted a little more hastily as he responded, "That's good. We'll need those buildings."
"I didn't think bats went out during the day, sir?" Alfred jabbed at him.
Bruce laughed dryly. "It's evening for one, and two, I don't have a choice. With the recent attack everything is in upheaval. Someone has to figure out who set off those explosions. It can't go unpunished. Lots of lives were lost." His voice was hard, and then he swallowed, and spoke again, "What about Blackgate Prison?"
Alfred sighed lightly, before turning back to the computer, and after multiple clicks, responded with a tired voice, "Fine sir."
"And Arkham Asylum?" Bruce added, almost a little too quickly as he walked over toward the computer, watching over Alfred's shoulder as the old butler typed away, bringing up a 3-D image of Arkham Asylum, circling the model round and round, before he answered, "It's fine sir. No damage to boot."
"Good." Bruce stood from his hunched position, moving away from Alfred as he headed toward where the Batmobile sat, open and ready to receive him as he stepped in, turning back to Alfred for just a moment to call, "Make arrangements for relief efforts to be headquartered at Wayne Tower for now. It'll be easier to maintain. Also," he adjusted himself as he put a foot into the Batmobile, "Send out a distress call to the Justice League. They'll let any vigilantes in the area know that Gotham City is in a code red."
"Of course sir," Alfred nodded, "Please, do be careful this time."
Bruce chuckled as he turned on the vehicle, "Obviously. Aren't I always?"
Alfred looked as if he might die for a moment, before he shook his head with a smile at Bruce, who returned it with a half-hearted smirk, turning the floor that the Batmobile rested on, and waiting for the passage to the surface to open up. He reached down with a gloved hand to put the Batmobile into gear, and that's when he caught it.
He stopped his movements immediately, shutting of the Batmobile and tilting his head to see if he could catch it again.
And he did.
A soft rumbling, that moved through the ground like a wave. The Batmobile door was open in a moment, Bruce stepping out of it and walking briskly toward Alfred, who had a rather confused look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak when Bruce cut him off; "Did you hear that?"
Alfred nodded.
And then it came again. The ground shook with the force of the noise, and rocks and pebbles came flying from the ceiling and for a moment Alfred was afraid that the entire Batcave would collapse, but then it stopped as abruptly as it had occurred, and he looked over at Bruce with wide eyes.
Bruce pushed Alfred out of the way in the gentlest way possible, bending over and typing into the computer. Alfred watched him, unable to see the screen due to Bruce's large form. Bruce was silent for a long time, before he finally moved, "Oh no...shit!," and then he turned, practically running back toward the Batmobile as Alfred called, "Sir?"
"Arkham Asylum!" And that was all Alfred could hear before the Batmobile's engine was roaring and Bruce was speeding out into the night. Alfred turned back to the computer, to see what had tipped Bruce off, and there was the 3-D model of Arkham Asylum they had been looking at earlier. But this time, half of the structure was red, and a large, blinking, 'Major Structural Damage' message flickered to the right of the screen. Alfred gazed softly at the place the Batmobile had occupied moments before, worrying that one of these days Bruce would not make it back home.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
A smile crossed his face, and his heart thudded in an oh so delicious way, as he gazed upon the masked vigilante in front of him. A shuddering, blissful, heart pounding feeling coursed through him as his hand tightened on the weapon in his hand. He had a feeling of rage so powerful he could not pinpoint where it was originating from, and a pain and regret so deep in his heart that he could not breathe, but his smile stretched even further across his face as the vigilante took a few steps toward him, the scowl evident on his dark face, eyes narrowed at him.
His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and he couldn't help but giggle with glee. This was it! He raised the gun in his hand, a shiny silver revolver gripped tightly in his hand, a finger resting on the trigger as the light glared off of the polished metal.
He laughed loudly as the tip of the barrel touched his temple.
And then he pulled the trigger and-
He jerked awake, his body throwing itself upright in bed, heart pounding a little faster than it should have been, breathing quickened in a way that concerned him. He hadn't been having a nightmare...The cogs in his mind turned and ground against one another as he scanned the room with his eyes, waiting for a moment as they adjusted to the dark corners of the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and he even leaned over and checked under his bed, which was, of course, empty.
He shifted himself, jumping a bit as his bare feet touched the cold concrete floor. He giggled a bit, wiggling his toes, before he moved toward the glass in front of him. He gazed back and forth out into the large hallway, eyes jumping from the cells across from his, to the ground, and down each side of the hallway. Nothing seemed wrong but...something was off. It was like a persistent itch that you could not scratch, it nagged at the back of his mind, and he pressed his face against the glass to see if maybe he would see something he had missed. Something had roused him from his sleep...and he'd been having a good dream too!
His bottom lips jutted out in a pout, before he rolled his caustic green eyes and turned back to his cot.
Perhaps it had been nothing after all. The product of a deranged mind! He giggled.
And as he sat down, there was a rumbling.
For a moment, he jumped out of the cot, startled, thinking perhaps that maybe he had caused it. But no, it happened again anyway, louder and stronger this time. He raised an eyebrow as he raised his eyes slowly toward the ceiling, muttering, "What in the hell?"
A piece of the concrete form the ceiling fell off, landing on his forehead. He brushed it off, irritatedly, before once again fixing his eyes upon the ceiling. A small crack had formed on the ceiling, and he squinted at it, and for a moment thought that maybe he was seeing things. But no, the crack widened quickly, and the rumbling sound came again, this time, he felt it, winding it's way up his legs and into his bones. And then a smile stretched across is face as he stared at the crack with a look of recognition; and he nodded at it.
"I see." His voice was a whisper. He had only a second.
He twisted his body painfully, before launching himself sideways, landing heavily on the concrete floor and sliding under the cot the best he could, his pale right arm darting out from under the bed and grasping the mattress in his hand, pulling with all his mind as it fell down beside him. He could hear the seconds ticking by in his mind as he shimmied the mattress on top of him, wheezing at the weight, maneuvering his arms up to his head as he crammed his fingers into his ears.
It came fast.
The explosion was so loud that his fingers did barely anything to help. He pushed his body as hard against the concrete wall as he could, hoping that the mattress was covering him adequately as everything around him shook with force. The explosion was deafening, it was like a rap to the brain that left him rattled, his ears ringing so loud that any other noise was drowned out, muddled, like he was underwater. It brought pain in his head and then everything was black.
He opened his eyes again, acutely aware of the burning in his lungs and he frantically threw his head from side to side, trying his best to move an arm up to his mouth and finally, finally, he gasped the air that he desperately needed. Getting the air wasn't as easy as he had expected it to be, and he was very much aware of the pressure that he felt all over his long body. He huffed, and with his free hand he attempted to move the mattress of him. But it was as if it was made of lead, and his efforts yielded little results. Something had to be on top of him, weighing him down and crushing him. He placed his pale palm against the cold concrete, trying his best to shimmy his feet so that they pressed against the ground; and then he pushed, beginning the arduous process of removing himself from underneath the rubble. His head was the first to emerge. He had been correct.
A few large slabs of concrete had crushed the frame of the cot, landing atop the mattress and weighing it down.
He conceded that had the mattress been absent he probably would have been crushed to death.
He declined to think of it that way.
He groaned as he moved further back, his hips sliding out from under the mattress, and then finally, with one last grunt and a burst of effort, the rest of his body was finally freed. He gasped loudly, scooting himself backward with effort, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. A nervous giggle escaped his lips as he pushed off his palms and brought himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as he regained his offset balance. His eyes scanned the remains the the remnants of his cell. The ceiling and right wall had been completely blown out, and the slabs of concrete the explosion had brought with it lay toppled over the cot and throughout the room.
The glass keeping him from escaping lay shattered from the force of the explosion, and to say the least, it was in shambles. Joker took a few tentative steps forward, mindful of the glass at his feet.
His feet made a crunching sound as he traversed over the glass, stepping out into the hallway. His hearing was coming back to him slowly, the loud ringing in his ears subsiding and being replaced by a loud beeping sound. AT first, he thought that perhaps it was his ears still, but then, as he saw the flashing red lights in the corners of the room, he realized it was an alarm.
Code level red alpha.
Something was very wrong.
His ears pricked as the ringing disappeared, his unsteady vision returning to him as his rapped senses recovered themselves. His head swiveled as he looked around, green eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. All the surrounding cells were empty...save for a few bodies that were obviously dead. Panic overtook him for a moment, his heart thudding in his chest as his breathing quickened; how long had been unconscious?! It couldn't have been very long, he was sure. Long enough for whatever patients in this bloc were alive to make their escape.
"Shit." He cursed audibly, before a smell in the air caught his attention. He wrinkled his nose at it, lowering his eyebrows as he sniffed at the air. Rotten eggs...a terrible smell, and he forced the air back out of his nostrils, "Ick..." And then it struck him. His head turned slowly, back toward his cell, up toward the large gaping hole in the ceiling. And that as when he saw it. A jagged pipe, painted yellow, hanging jaggedly from the broken ceiling. And for a moment he hoped, prayed, that his eyes ere playing tricks on him, but no...the air around the broken pipe was shifting, waving, and he knew it was gas.
A burst of adrenaline shot through his body as if he'd been shocked, his heart jumping into his throat as his head shifted from one exit to another. The exit behind him, the main exit, Joker noted, was blocked, covered by falling concrete, and so he twisted his body around and ran for the other door.
He winced as his foot caught on a piece of jagged glass, and he knew it would bleed as he made a mad dash toward the door. The door was electronic, and was set to open when someone approached, but instead, due to the blast, the door remained stuck in a half open position, trying vainly to open and close with no success. He reached the door in moments, breathing heavily, bending his large frame down and turning himself slightly, as he tried to squeeze himself through the narrow opening that was left by the door, hoping that it did not as he was going through and crush him.
"Hey! You! Stop right there!"
His head snapped in the direction of the voice, eying a guard pulling himself from the rubble of an empty cell. Joker raised an eyebrow, calling back to him as he pushed himself another inch forward, "I'm sorry officer, I can't hear you over all this...destruction!"
He watched as the guard stood up on shaky feet, stumbling and falling to his knees as he reached behind himself to pull his gun from it's holster. "I said, stop!"
Joker's eyes widened considerably, as he tried frantically to push the remainder of his body through the small opening, hands grasping at the metal door in an attempt to push it open further, shouting, "Are you crazy?! You'll kill us!"
The Arkham guard, however, didn't listen, and instead pointed the gun at him, and pulled the trigger.
The crack of the gun echoed throughout the room, and the bullet moved almost in slow motion, and that was all it took. The fire that exploded from the end of the gun, and traveled throughout the air like lightning, branching off of itself all the way up to the pipe...and then the air itself caught on fire. With a mighty heave, Joker pushed himself one last time, as the fire came to meet him in the face.
The heat was unbearable as it blasted him in the face, sending his lanky body flying backward through the air, his stomach doing a flip as he lifted his arms to try and shield his face with a cry of surprise.
His body struck the wall with force, his spine striking a metal stud sticking from the wall, forcing the newly gathered air from his lungs, his head snapping backward and cracking off the wall, bright splotches of light exploding in his eyes, as his body plummeted back to the floor, dropping like a stone.
"Ah! Fuck!" He landed heavily on his arm, twisting the wrist at an awkward angle as his forehead connected with the floor. The structure shook heavily, the metal and concrete of the building cracking and collapsing with the force of the explosion.
Joker's head was swimming, and with a groan of pain he forced himself of his injured wrist, turning over onto his back and clutching the appendage to his chest with a frustrated growl. "Stupid!" He screamed to the ceiling, as he held his arm to his chest and struggled to his knees.
He fixed his eyes on the door he had been blown through. It lay now in shambles, completely collapsed, fire lapping through the cracks that were left in the door, the heat radiating from it and drying his eyes, bringing tears to them as he looked away, struggling to his feet, and wincing at the pain that exploded up is spine. He huffed, frustrated, stretching his neck from side to side as he turned away from the ruined door and headed towards the exit.
He needed to leave. Now. Arkham Asylum was broken, it was falling apart and it was collapsing and he needed to leave. The thought of being buried underneath the asylum, dying on accident, no Batman, no last laugh no nothing...the fear wound itself up around him and choked him. His feet moved with more purpose now, shuffling as he struggled to keep his bruised spine upright. The elevator was just around the corner, and it wouldn't take him to long to get there...so he took off.
His feet were unsteady beneath him, and pain radiated through his body but he pushed forward. If it had been a gas leak that had caused the explosion, then he had no time to lose. Arkham Asylum rested upon an island, isolated from the rest of Gotham city, sitting on the edge of a cliff-like drop down into Gotham's bay. And to make matters worse, the Intensive Treatment Ward rested a story underground, which was were he was located.
How bad had the rest of the asylum been damaged? The building creaked overhead as he rounded the corner, bringing his hands up to shield his face from the fire that leaped from the wall on his right. The elevator gate was wide open, but the elevator was gone. He gripped the edge of the elevator's opening, long fingers gripping the metal as he leaned forward, peering downwards into the shaft. He smiled. The elevator rested securely on the bottom level, right below his floor. He pushed himself backward, away from the shaft, reaching over pulling the lever to call the elevator to him.
The thought that they say never to us elevators in a fire occurred to him for a moment, but he smirked and shrugged. When had he ever listened anyway? The elevator rattled beneath him, and the cords strained as it rose up to meet him.
"Code Level Red Alpha, evacuation in progress." An automated voice boomed over what was left of the loudspeakers, stinging his ears as he winced, and glared upwards toward one of them, "All personnel and patients are to evacuate imm-" The voice was cut off abruptly, followed by a hissing sound and a horrid electronic sound, before it was silenced once again.
Joker took a loud breath before stepping onto the grated floor of the elevator, pressing the button for the main floor. The only thing he was concerned about was getting out of here, honestly. He just needed to go one floor up, that was all. Just one. The elevator began screeching again, and he watched as it began it's ascent. His heart was in his throat, and he struggled to control his erratic breathing as he tilted his head upwards, shifting around anxiously. Just one floor. Just one, and then-
The elevator stopped abruptly, hard enough to send him stumbling backward into the wall. "What the-" He huffed, pushing himself back to a standing position, taking a few steps forward The elevator had stopped halfway up the exit door. "Goddamnit!" Joker screeched, frustration boiling in his blood as he cursed again, punching the elevator button and growling when it would not move. The cords holding the elevator were creaking, and Joker could feel the elevator shifting under his feet, tilting to different sides as the damaged cords lost there strength. He crossed towards the elevator door, sticking his fingers between the two gates and attempting to pull them apart. But his efforts remained fruitless.
"Come on, come on," He pleaded, reaching over and pressing the open button repeatedly.
With a hissing sound, the doors opened, revealing the gate that would allow him to exit the elevator. He let out a sigh of relief, reaching up and prying open the exit gate. It slid open with ease, and he gazed up at the ceiling for another moment, listening. The elevator jerked suddenly, sliding down slightly as the cords kept creaking, and he knew they would break. The building shook once more, and he gripped the wall to keep himself steady as it passed. Something was very wrong. He gripped the ledge of the main floor, heaving with all his strength, as he pulled himself upward.
His head emerged from inside the elevator, and for a moment he was afraid his body would not fit through the small opening he had. But he pulled anyway. His fingers gripped at the tile floor, slipping as he pulled himself forward, inch by inch. It was then that the elevator cords finally snapped, and he heard it before he felt it, the cords snapping under the weight they could no longer hold, their burned and damaged weaving finally giving under the pressure that had suddenly become to much. The elevator dropped like a rock, missing his ankle by mere inches as he threw himself forward, drawing his legs into his body as the elevator dropped.
The crash resounded loudly, shaking the floor as the cords that still remained anchored to the elevator zipped down with it. He took a few heaving breaths, crawling over to the ledge and gazing over.
The elevator was ruined. Caved in and dropped, blocking the elevator exit for anyone on the lowest floor. Extreme Isolation. He shook his head. No time to worry about it now. He needed to leave, immediately. He pushed himself up off the cool tile floor, brushing the dust and rubble of his torn uniform as he turned back toward the main floor. Intake. He rushed forward speed-walking, as he entered the lobby. He gasped. The explosion had affected the upper floors as well. The second floor had caved in, dropping heavy chunks of concrete and tile onto the main lobby's floor effectively piling themselves in front of the exit, blocking the doors from being reached from either direction. An upper body stuck out from under the rubble, face twisted into a disfigured grimace, blood pooling in his mouth and trickling out from the sides, eyes blown wide and bloodied. The uniform he was wearing indicated to Joker that he was a guard.
Joker took special pleasure in kicking the body in the head as he walked past, rushing towards the windows. They were tinted, preventing outsiders from seeing in, and patients from seeing out. He raised his fist, and brought it down on the glass. The force of the blow rocketed up his arm as he hissed in pain, but he brought it down again and again, the reinforced glass holding it's own against his blows.
And it was then that a shadow appeared on the other side of the glass. Joker's eyes grew wide, he opened his mouth to speak, but closed again at the realized futility of trying to speak through the reinforced glass. He whipped around, scanning the intake room with a keen eye, before running over and grasping the toppled chair from behind the receptionist's desk. He heaved it over himself, and threw it.
It flew heavily, hitting the window with enough force to crack it,the chair breaking and toppling to the floor in several pieces. He moved swiftly back over to the window, reeling back his arm and punching the glass as hard as he could.
His fist pushed through the glass, and he could feel the sharpness against his skin, ripping it open as his knuckles were met with the cool night air. He pulled his fist backward, becoming aggravated when it remained stuck, so he wrenched it backward, physically hearing the ripping of skin as he wrenched it free, hissing in pain and pulling the injured hand in towards him, bending over and putting an eye to the hole in the glass.
He was met by black.
He pulled back, using the already injured hand to push away more of the cracked glass, opening up the hole enough so that he could see through with his whole face. Solid iron bars met his gaze, covering the whole of the window, but he had already known they would be there. A security precaution on the end of Arkham Security. But that was not what caught his attention most. A black gloved hand gripped the bars tightly, and a cowled face stared back at him through the hole he had made in the window.
"Joker!" The voice was gruff.
"Bats." His voice was calm, but he cursed himself when he heard it shudder. He opened his mouth again to speak, a thousand words screaming through his cloudy mind, but he was silenced by Batman's, who spoke to interrupt him; "Joker, is there anybody else with you?"
Joker swallowed, craning his neck to scan the room behind him, before turning back to Batman and shaking his head, "No, nobody. I think, I," he huffed, swallowing again and licking his lips, "I need to leave."
"I know." Joker had not expected the Batman's voice to be so calm. But it was a fake tone, Joker knew. It was the tone you used when coaxing a madman away from the edge of skyscraper. "This way is blocked."
"Obviously!" He snapped back, face twisting into a grimace, breathing heavily.
The Batman growled low in his throat, but did not reprimand as he continued, "There was a gas leak. It's caused multiple explosions already, and it's probably going to cause more until the gas is shut off. The GCPD has officers underground to shut off the gas supply. But until then, you're inside a ticking time bomb. The balcony on the third floor isn't damaged yet. If you can get there, I can get you out."
The Batman's words resonated in Joker's muddled mind, as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. His head hurt so badly. He glanced back and forth nervously, licking his lips, and Batman made note of his nervousness as he awaited an answer. "How many others have you gotten out already?"
Joker's voice was a threat.
Batman answered anyway. "A lot." The answer was simplicity.
It angered Joker anyway. Batman watched the clown's disfigured face twist into a look of hatred, before a noise in the background caught his attention. Batman watched through the small hole in the tinted window Joker turn his head, looking behind himself, and then he was gone out of view for a moment.
"Joker!" Batman called after him, bending down to try and get a better view through the hole. He couldn't see, however, and took a step back when Joker's face reappeared suddenly. Joker's caustic green eyes burned into Batman's blue ones for a few long moments, before Batman restated his question. "Will you get to the third floor, so I can help you? Or not?" It was more of a statement that a question.
Joker took it as so, and nodded slowly, eye's locked to the Batman's, radiating emotions that Batman cared not to pinpoint. And it was then that the clown disappeared from his view. He sighed, agitated. It did not take long of being in the Joker's presence to push him to the point of being so irritated that he'd rather push a pencil through his eye that to deal with Joker.
But he always dealt with Joker anyway.
He turned away from the window, walking across the parking lot to where the cop cars were stationed at a safe distance, blocking the entrance to the asylum; surrounded by several patient transport vehicles, which held the patient's who had escaped or had been extracted before the most recent explosion, which had destroyed their only safe entrance.
Detective Jim Gordon stood at his patrol car with Harvey Bullock, as Batman approached. "Jim."
Gordon nodded, acknowledging him as he approached, "Batman!" Jim turned way from Bullock, who looked irked by the conversation being cut short, and turned toward Batman, a look of concern in his eyes as he asked quickly, "Who was that? What happened?!" Jim winced as his question came out as more of a demand, but Batman simply ignored it as he glanced from the hole in the window to Jim.
"The Joker."
"You kidding?" Jim's voice was filled with disbelief, quickly replaced by indifference, "Of all the patients we're still missing, him?"
"Yes."
"And what did you tell him? That building is a ticking time bomb, and if we don't figure out which gas pipe we need to shut off, that asylum will be nothing but ashes in about an hour." Jim shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he gazed at the asylum behind Batman, flames leaping from some windows, the building half collapsed; the destruction was obvious. Jim sighed. "What are we going to do?"
"I told him to get to the third floor." Batman pointed toward the side of the building. "There's a balcony over there. The door's still usable, and that side hasn't collapsed yet. I told him to get there as fast as he could."
"The balcony's hanging over the bay. And if he gets there?" Jim already knew the answer, and he couldn't deny the slight anger that boiled within him over it.
"I'll pick him up."
"Of course you will." Jim rolled his eyes, resting a hand on his hip as he looked up at Batman, "There are so many other patients still in there."
The question hung in the air.
Batman did not answer it.
"I'm picking him up."
Jim sighed, shaking his head and turning away, back to Bullock. "Where's our backup, anyway? I contacted Star City not too long ago."
Bullock laughed haughtily, arms crossed as he leaned against the patrol car, "You expect those guys to be in a hurry to get over here? What kind of crazy fucker would want to willingly come over here?"
Jim just sighed, pushing past Bullock and leaning into the car, reaching out and grasping the radio. "Dispatch."
"How can I help?"
"Where's the SCPD backup that was requested?" Jim rubbed his face with a free hand, wiping the sweat off on his pants, despite the cold fall night air.
"Currently heading towards Wayne Tower. Relief efforts hub."
"Thanks." He dropped the radio down carelessly as it bounced off the car seat and fell onto the floor as he pulled himself out of the car, closing the door just a little bit too hard, causing Bullock to wince at the noise as Jim turned to him and hissed, "Get your head out of your ass, Bullock."
"'Scuse me? Kiss my ass, Gordon!"
"The city is falling apart, we have no idea who this terrorist is and why their targeting our city, hundreds are dead, survivors are in that building," he gestured toward the shambles of Arkham Asylum, "right there, and you're standing out here with your thumb up your ass!"
"You wanna fight Gordon? Is that what you're after?" He rolled up his sleeves, "Cause it's been a long time coming!"
"Enough!"
Batman's voice was loud enough to startled them both, as they turned in his direction. Bullock simply sneered at him, but Jim nodded his head, sending a disgusted look in Harvey's direction before he said, "No, you're right. There are more important things to do than fight with each other. And with that gas leak...I don't think the balcony will be there when Joker gets there." Jim sighed heavily, meeting Batman's eyes for just a moment, "And if you think he's still worth saving...then...that's what we'll do." And with that he walked past Batman, back toward the building.
"Jim!" Bullock called after him, but Gordon ignored him, taking a walkway down beside the ruined building. Bullock made a move to go after him, but Batman raised his hand, "No, leave it be. I'll go after him."
"But why should I-" Batman was already gone. "Asswipes," he muttered.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
He threw his head back and emitted a guttural, feral, howl of rage, before hitting his injured fist repeatedly against the wall. After a few punches, he finally stopped, fist resting on the wall as he breathed heavily, refocusing his attention and turning back to the intake. All of the other ways he knew where either blocked off, on fire, or destroyed completely. He jogged back the way he had come, passing the broken window at the front and heading back to the elevator shaft.
But he stopped for a moment, gazing at the receptionist desk. It held a small red button, with the word 'emergency' printed neatly above it. He knew what it did. He rolled his eyes, turning away, but something stopped him. With a sigh, he made a split second decision, a long white finger pressing the button into the desk, before he continued his run back to the elevator shaft.
He stood at the edge, his toes hanging over the edge, as he gazed down at the elevator, the jagged chunks of metal sticking up at him like the teeth of a monster. He smiled, and for a second a stab of regret gripped him, and he considered jumping down. But if passed as quickly as it had come, the smile widened, as he took a few long steps backward; cracking his knuckles.
"Here we go."
He ran forward with speed, long legs crossing the distance in seconds, he waited, timing his stride, and then with a bend of his knees, he vaulted himself into the elevator shaft.
He hit the wall with force, hands scrapping down the wall as he fell, desperately searching for a hold, before he found it, and his body jerked to a stop, a fiery pain spreading through his shoulders.
"Ouch." He muttered, gazing downward as he dangled dangerously over the jagged chunks of what was left of the elevator, his feet swinging idly as his finger's strained with the weight. He shook his head to shake the idleness off himself, maneuvering his feet until he found a foot hold.
He reached up slowly, muscles straining with the unexpected effort, as he gripped another piece of metal jutting from the wall, as he started his ascent. He ascended slowly, one hand and one foot at a time as he climbed, muscles burning and fingers and hand cut by the jagged edges of the elevator shaft. He was acutely aware of the cost of his failure, so he was careful, but the weight of the ticking clock weighed on him more heavily. He was slightly below the second floor, and he could see the ledge that lead to it by turning his head around. It was as if a clock in his head was ticking down, and he took a deep breath to calm himself, before he gingerly let go of his hold with his right hand, turning his body around and angling it toward the ledge of the second floor.
"Okay," He said to himself, "Okay, you got this. Just a jump, real easy...real easy." He swallowed the lump in his throat, before launching himself away from the wall.
For a moment he was afraid he would miss it, but then his finger's hooked against the ledge, bringing his body forward and slamming into the wall, nearly winding him. He would have kicked himself for being so unprepared, but instead he tilted his head back, readying himself for the next jump, up to the third floor landing. He rooted his feet to a good launch point, scrunching his body like a spring, before he jumped again.
This time though, his confidence was misplaced. His left hand slipped from the edge, having not seen the pool of blood dripping from the edge, and his right hand caught him, barely. He swung dangerously, his heart racing, chest heaving, as he swung his feet and tried to move his body toward the wall.
But as he was learning, moving your body in the air was not as easy as it was when you were on the ground. He grimaced at the pain that was snaking up his arm and into his shoulder.
"Ahh," he groaned as he gripped the ledge even harder with his fingers, digging them as best he could into the ground, as the muscles in his arm bulged and he reached up with his left hand, trying to get a better grip; he was almost there, the fingers of his left hand almost touching the edge; and then a small hand wound itself around his wrist.
Joker jerked back instinctively, but the hold was steady as it began tugging his left arm upwards. The size of the hand and the strength with which it pulled was reminiscent of a child, as the hand pulled him up just far enough to let his hand land securely on edge. Joker let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding, as he gave whatever strength he had left to pulling himself up.
Once he was high enough, he placed his elbows securely on the tile floor, twisting just so that he could get a leg up on the ledge, and then finally, he was up, back on solid ground.
And that's when he turned his attention to the hand. It's own stood huddled against the far wall, paralyzed in fear and shaking, as the large green hat hid most of it's face. Joker recognized this as the Mad Hatter.
"Jarvis!" His voice was full of familiarity and a happy to see you attitude, but the Hatter simply stood in fear as his miniature form shook and he stared up at Joker with a look of fear, his voice stuttering and terrified as he said, "I-I-I knew you could do it, I-I-I just didn't w-w-want to see you f-fall."
Joker looked down with eyebrows raised, before a smile marched it's way across his face slowly, as he decided on a course of action. "Of course." He made a show of bowing to the midget man, before giving him a mockery of a salute as he said, "Thank you sir!" Before smiling at him, taking in and thoroughly enjoying the aura of dread and fear that emanated from his fellow criminal.
He took a step forward, and the building trembled.
It took all but a few seconds before the trembling was followed by a loud cracking sound, and Joker nearly lost his balance as the floor tilted suddenly to the right, the hallway that lay in that direction seemed to concave in the middle, like a trick of the eye, before it was apparent what was happening. The floor was collapsing in on itself.
After that it was no longer tilting. The floor turned at an extreme angle taking with it everything in it's path.
Joker wasted no time. He turned, and ran, followed suit by the Mad Hatter; the echoes of there feet on the tile drowned out by the groan of a building collapsing, as it tilted to swallow them. Joker yelped as he felt a piece of broken glass slice into his foot as he ran, but he ignored the jagged pain as he ran, feeling the Mad Hatter's presence right behind him as the furniture in the hallway began sliding back to meet them.
A large computer broke from the wall, it's entire unit coming tumbling toward them, and Joker twirled nimbly out of the way, taking on last leap and grasping the doorway into the next room, pulling himself to safety, but a scream caught his attention.
Jarvis was still in the collapsing hallway, running toward him with a gash on his side, having been hit by the sliding computer after Joker had dodged it. He was limping visibly, and he reached out with a hand toward the Joker, a look of desperation in his eyes as he cried out, "Please! I helped you!"
Joker's eyes widened as the event unfolded in front of his eyes, and he reached out as the floor finally collapsed fully, stopping at the doorway.
His long nimble fingers wound easily around Jarvis's hand, holding him tightly, with ease as if he were a child, his small frame dangling above the rubble two story's below. The Hatter looked downwards, before looking back at the Joker, and gulping. But the mistake he made was looking him in the eye.
He was met with a caustic green stare, the malevolent intent clear in his eyes, and it was then that his true intentions became clear, as Jarvis eyes fell from the clown's green ones, down to the smile that graced his face, and suddenly it was moving, the Joker was moving in twitchy, shoulder heaving movements, and then it filled his ears. The sound that had been the last countless others had heard.
The empty, haunting, soul-piercing laughter.
Joker leaned down lifting Tetch just enough so that he could whisper to him between giggles, "I never asked you too."
And that was it. The white right hand, covered in Joker's own blood, that held Jarvis' hand securely, released.
Tetch held onto Joker's hand with a mighty grip, desperate, as he screamed no, over and over and over, pleading and kicking and screaming and trying to claw his way up the Joker's body unsuccessfully. Instead, Joker simply allowed him to cling to his arm, watching Tetch scream and struggle and beg with a smile on his face and his laughter haunting the air.
But Tetch felt his grip slipping. The Joker's blood, oozing from numerous cuts in his right hand, slipped down into Tetch's palm, trails of it running up Tetch's arm and over his skin, slickening his grip and suddenly he was sick, and his vision was strange and he wished that the laughter would stop...and then his body jerked involuntarily, and he was falling.
The laughter didn't stop until Tetch's body had rolled out of view.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Jim's feet crunched along the gravel walkway, around the large tattered building. He was aware the Batman was behind him, his black booted feet landing heavily as he walked behind him. Jim inhaled deeply, before he spoke.
"Sometimes...I just can't stand him."
"It's understandable." Batman acknowledged, as they circled the building. But it wasn't long before Batman stopped him, pointed toward a pile of wood. "There."
"What?" Jim asked in confusion, shaking his head and walking over, crouching down to look at the small wood pile that was perhaps hiding something he wasn't seeing. But after a few moments of looking, he stood back up and shook his head, "There's nothing here."
"There is." Batman walked over the same way Jim had, but instead of inspecting the pile, with a forceful shove it toppled it over, and then he kicked whatever was left of the pile out of the way. "This was no accident." He then raised his heavy booted foot, and dropped it back down onto the muddy earth. But instead of the squishy sound of mud, Jim heard the sound of rotting wood. He smiled.
"Amazing." He moved over as Batman backed away, and he bent down and brushed away the mud, running his hand over the ground until he finger's snagged on a piece of metal jutting from the ground. "Ha! Here we go." He tugged forcefully, until the entire piece of wood pulled upwards, before breaking off it's rusty hinges and sending Jim falling backward onto his rump.
"Ah, shit!"
Batman simply eyed him with an unreasonable expression, and Jim tried to stifle the redness that was slowly creeping across his face as he stood up and brushed the mud of his pants, walking back over towards the passage the Batman had unveiled. "Ready?" He asked Batman idly.
He was answered with a grunt.
Jim went first. He walked tentatively toward the muddy edge, before jumping down. He fell quite a bit farther than he would have imagined, but he still landed on his feet with a grunt, straightening and taking a few steps forward, looking around. It looked more like a basement than anything, and when he looked back up toward the passage, it seemed that it had not always been there. He turned away to look around again, but yelped in surprise when he turned to meet the Batman.
"Whe-" He was cut off.
"That passage was made recently. Whoever started the gas leak explosions made a quick exit through that way. I'm guessing...they were professional."
Jim sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he had done several times that day before nodding and agreeing, "Yeah, I noticed that too." He looked back up to Batman, only to see his form slowly retreating around a corner. "Hey! Wait!" Jim jogged to catch up with him, before falling in step behind the large vigilante.
"How do you know where you're going?" Jim asked, gazing up at the tall ears of the cowl.
The Batman simply tapped the cowl itself, grunting in response, as he held a small device in his hand and took various turns around was was quickly becoming a large utilities basement.
"Here we go." Batman stopped abruptly, and Jim walked into him, before backing up and muttering an 'I'm sorry', before turning to see what Batman was looking at. It was a small device set into the wall, and for all Jim could tell it was a meter that measured the density of something, similar to gas; and he could not tell why Batman had so much interest in it. But it wasn't long before the Batman was pushing past him, breaking into a run and yelling, "You need to get away from here, now! Clear out any patients from around the building!"
"What?" They climbed the ladder back out the hole they had come through, "I thought we were trying to shut off the gas."
"I told you," Batman said as he walked briskly toward the other side of the building, heading evidently toward the balcony, "Whoever was responsible was a professional. There is no way to shut if off. It hast to play it's course."
Jim stood dumbfounded, as Batman called back to him almost angrily, "Evacuate! Now!"
Jim nodded, turning back and running toward the patrol car, vaguely aware of screaming that sounded like it was coming from the second floor.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Joker moved away from the doorway, the smile vanishing from his face. Tetch's fall had not mattered. The blood from Joker's hand had smeared. It covered his right and left, and from the moment Tetch had grabbed him in the shaft...well...the laughter returned as Joker walked his way through the destroyed hallways, the open double doors to the balcony staring him in the face as he limped toward them, ignoring the jagged piece of glass embedded in his left foot.
He gasped as he exited into the cold night air, dropping his head back as he stared at the starry night sky, giggles escaping him.
"Joker."
The smile stayed, but the giggles cut off abruptly, as moved his pupils to the right, toward the voice. His head turned toward it slowly, as the form of Aaron Cash took form in his vision. "Cash," he countered. His smile widened, as he turned his head away from Cash, back toward the bay, and then he pointed, his bloody finger indicating in the direction he was looking, before dropped it limply back down to his side, the smile all but gone from his pale face.
"Someone's been playing in my sandbox."
"Your sandbox? Yeah." Aaron Cash walked up beside him now, weapon lowered, pointed toward the floor as they both looked out over the coastline of Gotham City; the flames and rubble in the distance, smoke clouding thick in the sky. "It's been hell all day."
"I..." Joker stopped for a moment his tone and expression blank, "Wasn't aware..."
Cash could see the cogs in the Joker's demented head turning, and the jigsaw pieces coming together as he replied quietly, "None of us were...nobody was ready."
Cash tilted his head to look at Joker, and Joker tilted his head to look at Cash. They looked at each other for a long moment, before Cash watched the smile slowly return to Joker's face, an aura of silent danger and shackled malevolence surrounding him, and he laughed...
"This...was no...accident."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Sir, Stage Two of Phase Three has been completed."
"Good...then why are you here?" The voice was uninterested, as the dark, hood covered form stood idly at the large window.
"There has been...an unexpected interruption."
"I dislike interruptions."
"Well," His voice was now unsure, unsteady as he swallowed and continued, "Someone else has just moved in on Gotham City, my Lord." He was nervous.
There was a long sigh, as the figure straightened from it's hunched position at the window. "I am aware." There was a long stretch of silence that followed. "There...has been a change of plans." The hooded figure traced a hand over the window sill, before stilling once as his underling spoke.
"What should I tell them?"
Another heavy sigh, as the hooded figure straightened, gazing out of the window longingly, pulling an ornate silver blade from it's sheathe, watching the moonlight shimmer off the metal. "Tell them..."
"We move on Starling tonight."