1 hour earlier

"Hey! Get me another drink!"

Shouts are tossed back and forth in the dive, some for drinks, others for blood. The place is falling apart but packed with the scum of New Gotham. The wood floor is rotting from years of abuse from spilled drinks and blood, and the walls aren't faring much better. The counter was once fine marble, but any past grandeur is hidden under a layer of dirt and grime.

In the back sits the master of it all. Mr. Allen. Dull brown hair and a penchant for nice suits, he's no better than any of the other thugs present. He just has enough money to say he's the boss. For now...

"Hey, I said I want another drink!" Mr. Allen yells at the nearest waitress, a new girl on the shift. Doe eyed with curly red hair, she's an easy target for these remorseless goons. "What are you, stupid?" When she gets close, he overturns the tray, spilling a number of drinks. "What'd you do that for?" he asks her sarcasticly. "Go get some more!"

As she scurries away, a knocking can be heard at the door. Mico, the doorman, turns to see who it is. Mico is a big guy, 6'6" of asian muscle, his spiked black hair, muscle shirt, and blood spattered jeans an intimidating image for any of the bar's patrons. Opening the door, he shouts at the newcomers, "Get the hell outta here before I-" He's cut off in mid-sentence, and the thugs closest to the door turn to watch...

...As he falls back, out cold. The noise stops while everyone stares. I saunter in, dressed in a white shirt, purple vest and shoes, and green pants and tie. My long green hair is back in a ponytail, and my face is pale white. In my hand I holds a toy gun lightly, confidently. Stepping in, I places it inside my vest, turning and holding out my hand.

"Come, Jessie."

A slim hand reaches out and is placed into mine as a young girl steps across the fallen Mico. Her black and red outfit touches at memories, while her skirt flutters as she steps off Mico's head. Her blue eyes glint with amusement. A large mallet is thrown over her shoulder, warding off many lecherous thoughts. But not all of them. One stupid thug, well into his drinks, stands, approaching the two and slurring out some pick up line. Jessie takes one look at him and laughs. Before he could react, she swings that mallet with impressive speed, knocking him down and out in a single over-head blow.

"That'll teach you to mess with my Little Jester," I say, walking into the middle of the bar. Looking around, my eyes lock onto Mr. Allen. "Ah, the famous Mr. Allen, keeper of Gotham Underground's pursestrings. It is an honor," I intone, bowing theatrically. As a thug stands to shout at me, I calmly pull my cap gun and shoot the guy. The thug locks up from a massive shock, and falls to the ground. Glancing up, dazed, he sees my pale face. "Please don't try that again." Standing up, I address the bar.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name Joey. Of course, my mother always called me her little Joker," I say, motioning wildly. "Maybe because I always looked so much like my father..." Patrons gasp as they realize what that may mean. "But, since we're all friends here," I say, directing it at Mr. Allen. "You can call me Kid J." Putting forth my hand, I watch Mr. Allen, the same grin I had when I walked in still on my face, a confident, cocky smirk.

Furious, Mr. Allen stands, murder in his eyes. "Who do you think you are, coming into MY bar, on MY turf, shooting MY men?" His clenched fists shake with rage.

"Don't talk to Joey like that!" Jessie yells, stepping in front of Mr. Allen.

In a fit of rage, Mr. Allen swings out with his left hand, slapping her across the face, a red handprint easily visible. She stumbles back and drops her mallet, tears in her eyes. The room is dead silent as I step forward and hold Jessie. When I turns to face Mr. Allen, I feel my grin growing, wider and wider. Jessie smiles and giggles as she sees the cracks appear, my lips turning red. "Now you're gonna get it," she says, reaching back for her mallet.

"Mr. Allen," I intone, a sing-song now in my voice. "Perhaps I should have warned you of my number one rule," I say, raising a finger. "Never. Touch. Jessie!" Shouting the last word, I reach out, not so cleanly ripping off Mr. Allens right ear. He begins to scream in pain, and his men stand up, drawing knives and guns, to be stopped as I pulls my cap gun. Then, I laugh. And everyone there, from the just recovering Mico to Mr. Allen himself shudders, as it is a perfect echo of my father's laugh, of the Joker's cackle.

The Joker stands before them, risen again.

Leaping forward, I grab Mr. Allen by the throat, throwing him over the bar. Bottles shatter under the assault and patrons run in fear. "So you see, Mr. Allen, now I'm going to have to prove a point," I say, approaching the man's crouched form. Desperately, the man swings a bottle at me, causing me to flinch back. In this momentary opening, he jumps over the bar, grabbing three guys and setting them on me.

Laughing, I welcome their approach with open arms. The first to reach me is brought down by a swift overhead axe kick, crumpling to the ground. The second is blind-sided by Jessie's hammer, and blood begins to leak out of his ear. "Oops, Joey. Looks like I hit him too hard." Cackling, I drop the last thug with a single punch to the throat. He falls the ground, clutching his throat and gasping as his air supply is cut off. The first thug lies prone, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. The second only just stops twitching.

The others look on in fear at us, we, who marched into their place and dropped three of their number like it was nothing. They begin to recede, putting as much distance between themselves and us as possible. "Now then," I say, motioning to Mr. Allen. "Bring me Mr. Allen and only he will have to die. Get in my way," I warn, dropping a pile of clacking teeth toys. "And I detonate these, bringing the building down on every last one of you."

Silence rules as the teeth clatter and chatter to all corners of the room. Those present look about and come to a simple decision. Those directly around him grab Mr. Allen, pushing him towards the center of the room.

"What are you doing? Traitors!" he yells, flailing against his former comrades. He finally breaks free and makes a break for the door, jumping over Mico and running into the night, the storm just breaking over New Gotham.

Cackling again, I walk to the door, Jessie following close behind. Before leaving, I turn back, allowing Jessie to precede me. "It was fun, boys. But," I add, sighing. "I said you got to live ONLY if you gave him to me. You tried. And," I say, stepping outside. "You failed." Slamming the door, it locks, trapping the crowd inside.

Panicking, they begin rushing to any exit they could find. Only twenty escape before the teeth blow. They blow apart supports along the edge of the room, the blasts taking out many. As the building crumbles, those left inside scream as they are crushed. My laugh fills the night, echoing off the buildings, echoing my father. Those who escaped can only look amongst themselves, fear filling them. Fear that this isn't the last they've seen of Kid J. The new Joker.