So, this chapter's ridiculously short guys. I'm sorry about that. But I promise the next one will be longer!

Chapter 7:

By the time the Joker had emerged from the warehouse, the sun had already begun to rise.

The screaming had gone on for hours, only beginning to lessen and finally cease altogether in the last half hour. Making it worse had been the Joker's insane laughter, heard just as clearly and lasting just as long.

Some of the men hadn't been able to stand it, leaving their posts, wandering away.

The one's who'd stayed gazed upon their employer with looks of sickness, trying their best to conceal it.

He was absolutely laden in blood, his forearms and hands looking as though they'd been airbrushed red, smatterings of crimson dots littered across his white face paint and soaking in his hair.

Some eventually had to turn their eyes away.

The Joker regarded them, his face expressionless.

"Get rid of it." He said, his tone flat.

And then he moved past them, towards the van.

/

When Batman had arrived at Arkham, the scene there had been one of pure chaos. Four guards dead, one orderly killed.

Everyone was in a state of shock, crying, stunned in to silence, shaking their heads in disbelief.

No one had thought to check the security tapes until well after the vigilante suggested it, and as Bruce had thought, they showed him being let out of his cell by one of guards who worked there. That guard was among the dead, his murder caught on tape as the madman snapped his neck the moment he was free.

Bruce had felt a chill run up his spine when after killing the man, the Joker looked up, directly in to the security camera, and smiled before relieving the guard of his billy club and skipping off down the corridor, whistling some tune.

From what those who had witnessed the mayhem told, the lunatic had apparently taken the lift up to the ground floor and proceeded directly to seek out the three guards usually charged with his handling.

Apparently, the moment the Joker had been seen by the asylum staff, the place had erupted in hysterics, people running and screaming, no one thinking to try and apprehend him, all too frightened.

It had been found the man keeping watch of the security footage had fallen asleep, and so was left totally unaware of what transpired in the solitary confinement wing.

The Joker found the three guards, taking their break in the rec. room, watching some show on TV, laughing.

He'd come up fast behind them, and they'd remained unaware of his presence until he cracked the night stick across the back of one of their heads. The man had fallen forward, the other two jumping to their feet in shock, and panic ensued quickly among them.

The Joker never gave them a chance to retaliate, coming at them with a quick and vicious efficiency, raking the billy across one man's face, then the other, putting all three down in less then 30 seconds. And then he bludgeoned them to death, swinging the club down, across their skulls repeatedly until they no longer moved.

The place had been covered in their blood and bone fragments.

The dead orderly had been a man in his early thirties, unfortunate enough to have been in the Joker's path as he exited the asylum.

His neck too had been snapped.

All this happened in under five minutes, backup not arriving until well after the Joker was gone.

The entire thing was a disaster, and Batman knew, the moment the media caught wind of everything, the city was going to fall in to panic.

He was on the verge himself.

The Joker being out and free was the worst possible scenario in his mind. The last time he'd been so, Bruce had lost almost everything. The madman had invaded his life in a way no one ever had before, ripping it to shreds. He'd caused utter chaos in Gotham, driving people to acts born of desperation and fear, robbing them of their hope.

Batman had barely been able to find him in the end, having himself to resort to what only could be described as highly unethical measures.

The Joker was absurdly intelligent. He seemed always to be ten steps ahead of everyone else, knowing how people would react, and when. And so he would elude capture, all the while mocking those who sought it.

The first time he'd been caught, he'd planned for it, it only coming about because he wished it so.

And he'd made them all look the fool then, having played every single one of them with what seemed ridiculous ease only to go back out in to the city to cause exponentially more damage.

The Joker was the worst, most dangerous person Bruce had ever faced, and as he left Arkham, a sinking feeling of despair consumed him as he realized he didn't have a clue as to where to start looking.

/

The Joker bent slightly down, his tongue stuck at the corner of his mouth as he adjusted the height of the camera.

When he was satisfied he pressed record and turned from it, striding halfway across the room.

He was in an abandoned tenement, several miles from where he'd left his boys back at the warehouse, and was now alone.

"Gooood evening Gotham!" He spoke enthusiastically to the camera. "You're probably all wondering what I'm doing on your TV screens, hmm? 'Wasn't he locked away in that spooky asylum?' You're no doubt asking yourseeelves. Well…" He smiled. "Since I'm sure no ones, uh, told you, after all, we know how Gotham's finest just love keeping things under wraps…" He moved closer to the camera. "I'm not." He chuckled. "And isn't that just thrilling news? We get to pick back up onall those fun, little games we started but never did get a chance to finish."

The madman gave an exaggerated pout.

"I have to say, I was a tad disappointed in our last game together… I suppose it's because I wasn't allowed to make myself clear. Oh, I was close though! You don't know how close. Only… a certain partner in crime kept me from pushing the button." He smirked. "But then, I came even closer to pushing his. Didn't I Batman?"

The Joker turned from the camera then, walking away from it.

"Maybe my name caused a misjudgment of my intentions, but I promise you, I wasn't joking when I said I'd blow both boats sky high."

He turned back to face it.

"Like I said, I wasn't given a chance to make myself clear. So, I suppose, you people will have to be shown, and when you realize your lives really are on the line, well, we'll see just how noble you really are."

He stepped closer to the recorder.

"Oh, a little message to all you Mafioso out there. I tooold you this town was mine now. And I meant it. Maroni is dead. I killed him myself, just a short time ago. If you want to be part of the game…" He smiled, his scars twisting grotesquely. "Then you play for me."

The madman pushed his face close to the lens of the camera.

"No rules Gotham. Anything goooooes."

And he laughed insanely then, reaching out, shutting the camera off.

Indeed, he had great plans for this city. Great plans indeed.

They'd all find out, soon enough.