((So, decided to take a crack at writing once more; set this in the Arkham City section because I eventually plan on using that basic locale as a backdrop, but as you'll see, my story is going to be significantly altered in more than a few portions. Right now I'm just settling into writing again, so no pre-selected direction, but I WILL commit to this. Feedback is always appreciated, even suggestions if there's a particular character you'd like to see included, and I apologize for the fact that I can't begin a story to save my life; thus the sudden opener.))

The Joker was back, after yet another stay in Arkham Asylum... his last such stay, in fact, if the murmurs of coming changes in the air were to be believed. Whatever the case, he had made his dignified exit with the requisite amount of carnage left in his wake, and though he'd had to creep back to his safehouse on foot, he had entertained himself with the thought of the Bat spitting his lukewarm, unsweetened coffee all over the interior of his fancy car when word of the jailbreak reached his pointy ears.

Now his three lieutenants, the men who had kept his affairs in order during his recent vacation at Arkham, were clustered around the battered oak desk; seated in an old office chair, working with utmost concentration on blacking out the sides of a Rubix cube with a black marker, their boss seemed to be paying them no heed, and nobody was terribly eager to interrupt him. And so, for over fifteen minutes, there was utter silence, broken only by the light squeak of marker-on-plastic, the loud breathing of the Joker, and the carefully silenced breathing of the three others.

"Well?"

There was a moment of confusion as the three men glanced at one another. Sighing, the Joker tossed aside the half-finished cube and leaned forward just a little, his eyes narrowed and voice dropping to the low, slow growl that more often than not preceded very bad things.

"Isn't anyone going to ask how I enjoyed my time at Arkham?"

Suddenly there was an absolute chorus of questions and heartfelt inquiries, so many in fact that it was hard to make out what they were actually saying. The Joker seemed satisfied, however, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head as he basked in the death-threat-prompted love. After a few moments, he deigned to answer them, fingertips pressed together in front of him as he admired the room's decor. A shame he was going to be making such a mess of it all so soon; red wasn't really going to complement the drapes.

"Oh, I had a grand old time there, was an absolute spin," he chirped, voice light and cheery once more. "Those doctors went all atizzy trying to find out what made me tick... like that game hasn't gotten old already. Eternal optimists, they are. Well. The ones who are left. They decided that maybe if they gave me books on the law, it would teach me to obey it! Didn't work. Made a good bludgeoning tool when I was getting out, though, hardcovers'll do that..." A brief giggle passed his lips and his feet propped up on the desk. "Still, I happened upon a very interesting book they let me have, a do-it-yourself on how to make a successful home business, and it got me thinking." His fist slammed down on the table as he sat forward once more again, pointing at each of his men.

"This criminal empire is far too focused on fun and silly pranks and stunts to operate effectively. I've read through that book three times, and I think that what I learned there is going to bring Joker Corp in a new, exciting direction. I've outlined a three hundred and seven step program that will get us back on track and well on our way to whatever it is we're looking for. Have a two hundred and ten step program to figure that out.

"Step one! Consolidate the management hierarchy into a more efficient structure." Pulling his pistol from his inner pocket, he fired off a round, catching the lieutenant clean between the eyes and dropping him to the ground without so much as a squawk of surprise.

"Step two! Reorganize the assets to maximize productivity and minimize wasted resources." Another shot, and the second fell to the ground, leaving only one shaken man alive.

"Step three..." he broke off in an irritated frown as the third lieutenant, clearly expecting he was next, broke into a run for the exit. Tongue pressing to the corner of his mouth, Joker idly sighted down the barrel of his pistol and fired again, catching the last of his lieutenants clear through the heart with a spray of blood.

"Not. Finished." Propping his feet on the desk, he chirped; "Step three, promote the remaining man. Oops!"

Nearly five minutes passed before his howling laughter abated, and tears streamed down his face by the time the last guffaw passed his lips.

"Now, then, to get on to business... um..." glancing around the corpse-filled room, the Joker blinked. "Tough crowd. I can't work without an audience! [i]Batbait![/i]"

The man who had been waiting outside finally Riddled with more than one scar and mashed ears, it was clear enough why he had earned his title; this was probably the Joker's most loyal henchmen, as defined by the fact that he'd gone the longest without being executed. About three years, in essence. As a result, the man had tangled with the Batman on more than one occasion, and it was clear from his many improperly healed injuries that he hadn't been the victor in any of them. It was doubtful the Batman, or any of his little Batwhelps, would ever recognize the man... not even Joker could remember his real name, thus the monicker. Whether or not the nickname bothered Batbait in the slightest was uncertain, but the man rarely seemed preturbed... well, until now, at least.

"Surprised?" the Joker asked, a brow lifted as he gestured to the fallen henchmen. "I ask for a simple thing, one small tiny fleet of napalm filled zeppelins to turn Gotham into the true Hell on Earth, and they can't keep the Bat from tracking that down! And to make it worse, they told the Dark Blight whatever he wanted to know rather than throwing themselves upon their swords." He paused. "Well, then again, I did forget to give them swords. Still! They should have the basic self-sufficiency to seek out sharp, pointy objects to throw themselves upon. It wounds me, and takes the smile off my face..." He frowned sadly, at least as much as he could, and his voice dropped menacingly. "So I wound them.

"Now then!" Chipper once more. "You're hereby promoted to Chief Batbait. You'll get your own office and full medical coverage- you're going to need it. No dental, though... see?" A wide smile displayed his own decidedly unattractive teeth, hands wide. "But who needs teeth to smile? Just have to worry about chewing gum, really... now, where do we stand? I want all the details!"

"Uh, well, boss," Batbait murmured, still giving the corpses the occasional glance, "we're gettin' the word out that you're back on the scene, and we still got enough stuff tucked away to get back on track with-"

"Very interesting," Joker interrupted cheerfully, palms drumming on the desk as he switched topics. "Where's Harley?"

"B-boss," Batbait replied slowly, carefully; part of why he had survived so long. "You... you said... before you went to Arkham..."

"Riiight, right right right, she stormed out, tears, ugh, the tears. And the hammer. But it was funny!" He continued in a singsong tone, fingers waving back and forth, "Haarley the haarlot, Haarley the haarlot. Catchy, eh? Women are so sensitive." Musing over the mysteries of females for a moment, he finally shrugged, snapped his fingers and dismissed it. "Ah well. I'll send a heart in a box, win her back to my side. Batbait!" Hands planting on the desk again, he leaned forward a little, grinning wide as he surveyed the corpses of his former lieutenants.

"Fetch a bonesaw."

This time his laugh didn't end for a long, long time.