"That is impossible." The three men are currently sitting in Joker's apartment. Frankly, Gordon is surprised he did not have a giant underground lair.
"Exactly what Batsy said, but here we are." Joker scooted next to Gordon. He shuffled away. The couch is only that big. He licked his lips. "I would like to not believe it, but, it is all we have." The Joker rubbed his arms.
"How exactly is this related to the deaths?" Gordon asked. The case hit close to home. It could have easily been one of his children dead.
"I have no idea." Batman brooded in the corner. Joker stifled a giggle.
"Joker did not do it, but it is related to him." He shot down Joker's protests. "This is too much for a coincidence." Joker stormed off to the kitchen
A loud crash in the kitchen area grabbed the men's attention. "Ow ow ow!" The Joker jumped around. A bloody knife lies on the floor and the large gash on his arm bled. The fire engulfed the wound.
"What. The. Hell." Gordon stated. He reached over to touch the flames before Batman could stop him. Relief flooded Gordon's senses. He had not felt so relaxed since God knows when. His head cleared and the implications hit him as soon as Batman grabbed him out of the fire.
"This fire," Gordon gasped. "It's not normal." He fell over. Batman nodded in agreement and dragged an unconscious Gordon back to the couch.
"Can anybody help me patch up my arm?" Joker yelled from the kitchen. Batman resisted telling him to do it himself. "We can't touch the fire." He explained to the Joker and he pouted as he bandaged his arm up. The fire flickered.
One by one, the homeless in the narrows fell. Heads smashing against the walls, jumping into the docks, stabbing themselves with stolen knifes. Whichever way possible. It has a ripple effect. In the very center, is the small building a man called the Joker calls home. The ripple reached a hundred feet. Fourty three died, thirty men and thirteen women
Of course the owner, or rather the three owners were not there. One would laugh while two would have tried to stop them. But they were all cooped up in a cave, glaring and shoving while attempting to research. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. A few within the circle was spared. Most outside of the circle was spared.
Nobody cared. Nobody bothered to look at the bodies because they were nobodies. Some pitied them. Others hated them. Nothing happened until someone, bothered by the stench of copper filling the air of the narrows. Police sirens filled the night sky, and all hell breaks loose.
"The current body count is twenty five dead, ten women and fifteen men, and the body count is expected to rise..."
Gordon watches the news, slack jawed in horror. Thirty two. The body count adds up to thirty two, counting the children. Batman's mouth is set in a hard line, his fists clenched.
"The homeless deaths are speculated to be suicides, forming a circle around a set of abandoned apartment blocks in the narrows." The TV shows the set of apartment blocks the Joker lived in.
"It is physically impossible for the Joker to have done anything." Gordon explained, as their eyes cast towards the man's sleeping form.
"Wake him up." Batman needs answers. Gordon shook the Joker as Bruce gritted his teeth and walked closer, ready to do anything if the man attacks.
"...mmf stop..." He mumbled and turned over. Gordon shook him again. "Mister..." Joker mumbled again. Batman and Gordon exchanged a glance. Gordon turned back to the Joker and whispered "What is your name?"