"I want the Joker." Batman growled out, gripping the front of an expensive custom-made suit. The man's legs dangled over the railing, a sheepish look spread across his aged face. A cool late-Autumn gust blew through his silvery slicked-back hair, messing up the perfect style he always carefully maintained.
Sal Maroni... The head of the largest Italian mafia family in Gotham. This man, along with the Chechen, had started all of this madness. After the sudden disappearance of Gambol and Dent's relentless pursuit of the crime families in city, the boss' had hired the clown to aid them in exchange for half of all their savings. With Dent breathing down their necks, it was either make a deal with the Joker or lose it all.
Maroni scoffed as he glanced down towards the ground from over the ledge, calculating the distance from where he hung. The expensive Italian leather dress he was wearing swayed instinctively in a futile attempt to find some sort of footing. In this dark alley behind the nightclub he's been at with his men, no one would see what was happening.
"From one professional to another, if you're tryin' to scare somebody, pick a better spot! From this height..." The mob boss shook his head doubtfully. From years of experience, he knew how far down someone would have to drop to make a mess. "The fall wouldn't kill me."
"I'm counting on it." The gloved hand suddenly let go. Maroni screamed in disbelief, falling straight towards the pavement. Feet landed first with a sickening crack, his legs breaking from the impact of his weight.
Jumping from the ledge, the caped crusader glided down gracefully onto his boots. Standing over the crumpled boss, dark eyes glared down at the older man, trying to get his point across. He was willing to do what was necessary to get answers. Things were out of control, pushing the hero to the point of no return in his desperation.
"Where is he?!" Grabbing the man by his dress shirt and yanking him closer, the deep voice bellowed in his face. There was no time left to play games, he needed answers now.
"... I don't know where he is! He found us..." Maroni wheezed, pain shotting through his body from the fall. For the 'Dark Knight' to go this far... It was clear he was pressed and willing to cross lines he never would have before.
"He must have friends?!" Batman was becoming frantic in his search to find the Joker. The clown's rampage throughout Gotham had risen the city's murder rate multiple times over. Day after day, more people were being killed or targeted. The broadcast promising more deaths each day the caped crusader didn't reveal his identity was getting to him...pushing him closer to the edge. How many more people would have to die because of that psychotic clown's madness?
"Friends?... Have you met this guy?" The Italian looked at him in disbelief. If the pain wasn't so agonizing, he definitely would have had a good laugh over this.
There had only been a handful of occasions when the two opposing forces had run into each other. It was only when the clown let himself be found. After terrorizing the fundraiser with his goons and throwing Rachel out of a window, the Bat had no choice but to go after her. He refused let her get hurt, she was far too important to him. Dent doesn't know it, but the brunette had promised to wait for him...for the day the city didn't need Batman anymore... With the Joker on the loose, it seems like that day wouldn't be coming anytime soon.
"If Harvey Dent is the White Knight of Gotham, then Batman can be the Dark Knight. One can work in the light being the face of the city, while the other works in the shadows... Either way, Gotham needs them both."
The pinkette's words ran through his head for the hundredth time. Was she right? Would there ever be a time when Gotham didn't need Batman? Or was it really Bruce who needed him?
"Too smart for your own good..." The caped crusader muttered under his breath as the mob boss raised an eyebrow in confusion.
Shaking his head and gripping the front of Maroni's suit, there was no time for anything else. Right now, the Joker needed to be stopped. If anyone would be able to do that, it was the Batman.
After making sure that Rachel was safe, Bruce flew through the city, trying to track down the maniac after he used the chaos to escape. He had to find him... To stop all the senseless murders and violence... That way, Gotham wouldn't need Batman anymore. The 'White Knight' Harvey Dent could take up the mantle in the face of the public. He's the true hero this city would need in the long run...
"Someone knows where he is!"
...
Joker couldn't be found unless he wanted to be... That's been made very clear.
While soaring over the city from building to building, there was an explosion at the largest shipyard in the Gotham.
Batman jumped down into the shadows, allowing the darkness to conceal him as he trudged through the labyrinth of large storage containers, closer to the location. Flames rose high into the night sky from a large shipping vessel that was docked straight ahead. Furrowing his brows, he leapt up on to one of the metal containers, shifting from side-to-side, looking around the shipyard. There didn't seem to be a single soul in the area, but that was exactly what the enemy wanted him to perceive. They were hiding, waiting for the perfect opportunity to ambush.
"HAHAHOOHAHA!" The laughter seemed to surround him, bouncing off of everything and mixing in with the roar of the flames. Batman turned back and forth, not seeing anything, except the other ships and yachts that were docked around the burning vessel. He knew that man was here, even if he was hiding... That obnoxious laugh was as recognizable as his marred face.
"Yoo-hoo! Over here!" Turning towards the voice, Bruce's dark eyes widened when they landed on that maniac. The Joker was standing on a sailboat, holding onto the mast and swinging around it, waving a gloved hand in the air. Laughing... He was still wearing the costume from the fundraiser, jester mask back on his face.
"What are you up to now, clown?! Do you think you can get away with what you just did?"
"Yeah." Joker let go of the mast, jumping down with his hands up, like a gymnast finishing a grand performance. He bowed low, pulling off the gaudy cover with a terrible smile on his scarred face. Looking at the mask in his hand, the clown shrugged sheepishly, tossing it over his shoulder into the dark waters of the bay.
"Where are your men?" Batman glanced around, waiting for them to try to a sneak attack. He couldn't sense anyone around though... Why would the clown show himself like this without back-up?
"They've been working so hard. Decided to let 'em cash in on their vacation time. Ya know, this city really needs to re-evaluate the unemployment rate they like to boast about... Maybe do something for once. Otherwise, it wouldn't be so easy for me or the mob to recruit. Everyone's gotta make a living after all!" The clown spread his arms out, raising an eyebrow, almost waiting for him to argue the point. Even if Bruce hated to admit it, there was some truth to the statement. With employment hard to come by in the less fortunate areas, many people turned to crime to supplement their income. There was no way in hell Bruce would tell the Joker he was right about anything.
"Cut the crap! Everyone knows most of your men are mental patients and escapees from Arkham and Blackgate... You'll pick up anyone off the streets!"
Joker craned his neck to the side, eyes narrowing in on him. "Hate to break it to ya, but...even, ah, schizophrenics need to eat! Haahahaha!"
Batman growled out as he ran to the edge of the dock. Leaping forward, he jumped onto the sailboat, making it rock under his weight. Landing on his feet, the two stared each other down. Opportunities like this don't come often and it couldn't be wasted. If he was going to take this man down, it had to be now, before anyone else was hurt.
Dark eyes narrowed in on green haired man, noticing how calm he seemed. With him, the unexpected was always the expected. Seeing the malicious smile forming on the clown's face as he glanced down at the watch around his wrist, the Bat froze, knowing something was very wrong. Whenever the Joker checked the time, it was always followed by something terrible. Just what as this psychopath planning now?
"What are you up to?! Did you blow that ship up just to lure me out into the open?" Bruce couldn't figure this guy out. Nothing he did ever made sense at first glance. Everything that happened seemed so unorthodox and ludicrous, but he always managed to pull it off. No one was able keep up with him, let alone predict the next move. It was so infuriating, but a clear mind was needed to observe and try to figure this out.
"Now, why would I go and do a thing like tha-t? We just had our date at the fundraiser! They say you should wait at least two days before calling. Otherwise, you look desperate."
Batman jumped into the air, throwing a clenched fist straight towards the clown's head. Dodging it with a laugh, the maniac pulled a knife out, the light from the flames making blade gleam in the dark. A punch in the gut sent him flying into the mast, but he stood right back up, lunging towards the caped crusader's abdomen.
'He's aiming for the spaces between my armor!'
When the blade tried to jam itself between the plates covering his torso, Bruce swung his elbow down against the clown's forearm, blocking the direct attack. A heavy boot smashed against criminal's ribs, making him skid across the floor of the sailboat.
"Ohhahhha!" Joker stood up, seemingly unfazed by the dark knight's attacks. "I just got rid of one of the Chechen's big shipments of the drugs he loves so much! Remember what happened last time he moved Scarecrow's merch?"
'The Narrows...'
Last time Scarecrow's fear toxin was spread, the former doctor had targeted the worst part of the city that was known for drug use and crime... It caused such a catastrophe. So many lives had been affected and it took over a month for life to go back to normal.
"I already put Scarecrow out of work! He's in a padded cell in Arkham right now. You'll be seeing him soon enough."
"Is he?" Joker spun around, arms stretched out. "Do you really think you can trust Gordon's unit? HA! The entire police force is corrupt!" Instead of lunging for the man again, Bruce froze as the words sunk in. Why would he say that, unless he knew something? The Joker never does anything without some twisted purpose... Why was he telling him all of this anyway? It wasn't like the maniac would try to accomplish something good all of a sudden. There had to be some sort of hidden agenda. "You're always runnin' to the rescue! Doing all the hard work for Gotham's finest. But, ya know... As soon as they don't need you anymore... They'll cast you aside."
Joker twisted his head to the side, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth. "Like a leper! To them, you're just a freak. Like me..."
"Shut up. You're just trash who kills for money!" Who did this man think he was? He knows nothing... Not about him or his relationship with Gotham.
The smile he always wore faded, jaw shifting as his eyes darkened at the insult. Batman froze, feeling the mood completely shift after that last remark. Something was wrong... He could see how tense the clown became, his muscles taut, straining against the purple fabric of his costume. Dark, wild eyes narrowed as his face twisted into a scowl. Gloved fists balled up at his sides, they trembled with the rage coursing through his body. Of all the encounters they had, Joker was usually antagonistically playful and violent, but the caped crusader had never seen him genuinely angry. Right now, it was far beyond anger... He was completely livid.
'What's he doing?'
Joker flew at him, faster than the other man could see. The Bat's eyes widened, something hard smashing across his face. The edge of the sail whipped against him when he flew past it, crashing into the metal railing along the side.
"Aaaghhh!" The wind was knocked from him as a lead pipe slammed against his ribs, cracking under the pressure. He hadn't seen it coming... Didn't even notice a weapon aside from the knife that was pulled out earlier. Since when was the Joker so fast?
The clown growled like a wild animal, furiously beating him with the pipe. Bruce tried to protect himself, almost in shock at the unexpected brutality raining down on him. He'd never seen the Joker like this, not even once. Usually everything was just a game, playing a screwed up version of 'cat-and-mouse', but this was different. A button had been pressed and there was no turning it off.
Bruce desperately tried to block the blows with the hard covering on his arm, but the maniac twisted the pipe in his hand, swinging it against the side of his head.
'He's really trying to kill me this time!'
Usually when they fought, it wasn't this violent, even when knives and guns were pulled out... There always seemed to be a certain understanding between them. Batman wouldn't kill him, because that was a line the hero refused to cross. The Joker wouldn't kill him either, because he enjoyed their little games and didn't want to end the fun. It seemed the time for understanding was over. It was clear the clown was intent on beating him to death without a care for the consequences. Reaching down, the Bat hit a button on the side of his utility belt. Blades shot out at the enraged criminal, taking him off guard.
Joker stumbled back, curiously looking down at his side. A dark blade was lodged into him, going straight through his waistcoat. Blood came from the wound, staining through the green fabric.
"Hohahaha! Ya got me!" The Bat jumped to his feet, swinging his leg at the clowns other side to avoid pushing the blade in any further. He didn't want to kill this man... Just immobilize him enough to drag him in to the authorities.
Pulling the blade out of his side and leaping out of the way, Joker tossed it over the side and into the water. Did he keep throwing anything extra into the bay to stop them from getting a DNA sample from the objects? For so long, it had been a mystery who this person actually was, and they were no closer to solving it than they were capturing him.
"Batsy wants to play games? Hmm?" Flipping into the air, it was now or never if he was going to stop him. It was almost impossible to track him down...and here he was standing right in front of him, ripe for the taking.
Throwing a kick to strike the clown on the head, the lead pipe smacked the Bat right in the face with overwhelming force. Crashing onto floor by the railing, his head spun as the man jumped on top of him. Bruce cursed himself for not seeing that coming, feeling disoriented by the strength the clown used against his skull, rattling his brain.
"We really should stop all this fighting... Otherwise, we're going to miss the fireworks!" The pipe was pushed up against his neck, blocking any air from getting through.
A loud explosion went off in the distance, making Bruce's dark eyes widen, trying to look up while the man above him cackled. Police sirens went off in different sections of the city as smoke rose above the buildings.
"What did you do?!" Adrenaline coursed through the Bat, panic sweeping through him and giving him the strength he needed to throw the clown off to the in the direction of where the sirens were converging, smoke billowed up into the night sky.
'City Hall...'
The clown's manic laughter made him turn back in disbelief. His head was thrown back, gloved hand gripping his chest in a fit of hysteria. The sneer on this man's face was infuriating. Taking a step forward, another explosion went off. Turning away from the Joker, he ran to the edge of the boat, gripping the railing as he watched the destruction from a distance.
"No!" If another attack happened in the same spot, the police and fire trucks...and any curious bystanders that arrived at the scene would be in trouble...
Spinning on his heel back towards the clown, no one was there... The spot where he stood was empty. The laughter had stopped, but he hadn't realized it over the noise from across the city and the sirens wailing.
The Joker escaped again...
...
"Heh... Nobody's gonna tell you nothin'! They're wise to your act. You got rules...The Joker? He's got no rules. Nobody's gonna cross him for you! You want this guy? You got one way, but you already know what that is... Just take off that mask. Let him come and find ya..."
Bruce growled out as he stood, not wanting that to be the only option. There had to be another way... Would the clown really stop if he revealed his true identity to the public? Probably not... The thought of giving in to the whims of a terrorist were unbearable, especially after all that's happened.
"Ha! Why don't ya let a couple more people get killed while you make up your mind!"
"And...she's out."
Joker shifted on the couch, laying the pinkette down onto the cushions. The emerald green gown really was beautiful...but inconvenient. Aside from the top half of her body, he could barely feel the rest.
'Maybe it was a bit, ah, much...'
Standing up, he grabbed the bottom of the frilly outfit and lifted her legs up onto the couch. After healing the wound from the Bat and all the bruising from his antics throughout the city, she must have been exhausted. Not only that, but the smell of liquor was radiating from the tiny woman...she'd been drinking. It wasn't a big deal, she's a grown woman, but he didn't like the idea of her wandering around the streets in the dark, completely wasted. Anything could happen around here.
These streets are unforgiving, especially when night falls. That's when all the bottom-dwellers crawl out from under their rocks. Joker knew that better than most, since there were plenty of them employed by him. Maybe she doesn't fully remember what it used to be like back in the day, when they lived in The Narrows. It was just plain reckless for a woman to walk around by themselves with no one else with them. Scumbags would rationalize that they should have known better and were asking for it. Since then, things have only gotten far worse in comparison. Now, it didn't matter if they were in the slums or not, everywhere and anyone was fair game, men or women. The pinkette needed to be careful... She could have been mugged, beaten, raped... Even if she was always a spit-fire, there's only so much a small woman could do against a handful of large men, who most likely be carrying weapons.
'Fucking hell...'
Cocking his head to the side, he stared down at Sakura, watching her small breaths even-out. Running his tongue along his bottom lip, he prodded the forked scar that ran across it, feeling the broken skin absentmindedly.
It was amazing... She was able to heal... Part of him had suspected that might have been the case after seeing the unblemished skin along her forearm. It would have been impossible for a gash like that to suddenly disappear. When it came to injuries, he was a professional. Slicing flesh open on thick glass the way she had would have taken a while to heal naturally.
'Strange... She wasn't able to do that before, so why now?'
That wasn't the important part, just something to ponder over later. Although it was sweet of her to heal him, that wouldn't become a habit. The ability was useful, there was no doubt about that, but he wouldn't take advantage of it. Unless it was necessary, she shouldn't use it, especially if it drained her body to such a degree. Did that happen because this was the first time she consciously tried, after realizing it? Perhaps there was a way she could learn to control it...
'I'd rather Sakura use it only on herself if possible...'
Joker didn't mind the pain. In fact, he thrived off of the sensations caused from his injuries and fighting. It gave him a rush, making the adrenaline spike and his heart pound in a way no one could ever accurately describe. That was his drug of choice, what made him feel alive in a dead world.
Every day was painful, and he had the endurance of a hundred men. He could take it with arms wide open... That was something the clown doubted Sakura could truly understand, and he never wanted her to.
Looking down at the pinkette, he crouched down, dark eyes taking in her delicate features. She was even more beautiful than the images in his head. It seemed unreal that they were both in this apartment together. Part of him almost expected to wake up and realize this was all part of another terrible dream.
For seven long years, he thought she died because of his negligence... Falling from the fire escape and bleeding out on the pavement... That she had died all alone. It was such an unbearable thought, one that tormented him for years on end. The two of them spent almost every day together, had done everything as a pair... And in her last moments, she was alone...
It would have been devastating, but if he could have at least been there... Let her know that she didn't have to leave this shitty world alone...
Sakura was always there by his side in life, he could have at least stayed by hers in death.
By the time he got back from the job that night, she was already gone... They had already taken the body away. All that was left of her was blood splattered everywhere on the ground and people gossiping about what happened. Those leeches who were getting entertainment from his heart being torn apart...
He remembered their faces and what they said...and the way they looked when he found them later that night...
A chuckle left his lips as he reached forward, moving a few stray pink stands away from her face. They were just as soft as he remembered, how they felt when he used to run his hands through her hair. Words could never describe how much he missed those moments in time, ones that seemed so distant.
After that terrible night, he contemplated blowing his brains out, day after day. What was left? Surely Sakura would want some company in the underworld...but she never would have wanted him to hurt himself.
Joker could still remember sitting on that crate in the abandoned warehouse, the same one he found the pinkette hiding in multiple times... It was just a few blocks from the building he torched two weeks before.
A cigarette hung from his lips, slowly blowing the smoke out from the corner of his mouth. A souvenir from a pack he'd found on someone last night. A person who was no longer breathing or flapping their gums. It didn't bother him anymore... He didn't feel any remorse or sympathy for the maggots crawling around, especially the ones who crossed him.
Jack absentmindedly lifted his hand, pressing the muzzle of the gun against his temple. He took a long drag, inhaling the smoke, letting it burn his lungs. That was always one of his favorite parts, besides lighting it. Without hesitating, he pulled the trigger.
Click.
'Not this one either...'
A single bullet was somewhere in there... Russian Roulette was better played with two people, but this was fine. An ember fell next to his boots, planted on either side of the crate. With an exasperated groan, he leaned forward, digging his elbows into his wide-spread knees. They couldn't stop bouncing, no matter how much he tried to get them to stop. Ashing the cigarette onto the newspapers, he took another drag, hoping this wouldn't take much longer.
'Just like life...a drag.'
Letting out a frustrated sigh, he ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair, wanting to tear it out from the roots. He didn't know what to do anymore... Every day felt like torture, always something to remind him of what happened, of how useless he really was. In the morning, he's accidentally seen his own reflection going past a car parked near the warehouse. It was enough to send him reeling, smashing the window in with a brick and not giving a damn about the alarm going off.
Jack looked horrible, worse than before. Dark circles were permanently fixtures around his eyes from the insomnia plaguing him every night. His tan skin was starting to pale from hiding away from the outside world, and he lost weight. He couldn't remember the last time he had a decent meal or slept more than a couple hours, here and there. If possible, he wanted to avoid it all together. Instead of allowing him to escape for a while, sleeping only made the reality of the situation come crashing down. Over and over again...
The last two weeks had been the worst experience of his short life. Time dragged on longer than ever, each day seemed like it would never end. The gift he had for the pinkette weighed heavy in his pocket, a constant reminder of what could have been. What should have been...
This couldn't go on...
If there truly was a God, they were cruel in their punishments. Creating and taking away on a whim. Giving hope, only to snatch it away and laugh. Making something so beautiful, only to destroy it. None of it ever seemed to make sense, other than the 'Big Man Upstairs' never existing in the first place. If he did, why was he so hellbent on tormenting his children? For a while, Jack thought maybe he could be real...when the world was more colorful, full of life with the promise of hopes and dreams having the possibility of being fulfilled. It was all fake, just a terrible joke.
Putting the cold metal back to his head, he was hoping this one would finally be able to relieve the pain of living. Death was easy...it was life that was hard. His calloused finger curled around the trigger, pulling it hard.
Click.
"Goddammit!" That was the seventh time. The last one had to be it. He put the bullet in there himself, but didn't know which time would prove fruitful.
'Please... At least give me this.'
Placing the handgun back against his warm skin, his dark eyes slowly closed. This would be the one to end it all. It was the only way, there was nothing left anymore. The thought of having to drag himself through another day like this was unbearable. The guilt and shame were too much, eating him alive. It was suffocating, like a serpent coiled its tail around his neck, slowly strangling the life from his body.
Images from over the years ran through his mind... What a pathetic life. The only reason to keep going on had been the prospect of staying with his best friend.
'No... She was far more than that.'
They were going to leave Gotham together... Get married... Live peacefully, without anyone trying to hurt them anymore.
A smile pulled at the scars around his mouth, remembering how angry Sakura would be when he would sneak into her bedroom, usually bleeding or roughed up from doing something stupid. Stealing food or cigarettes from the stores outside of their neighborhood, getting into scuffles with thugs in the area, beating the snot out of someone who thought they could mug him... Things to take his anger out on from the life he was forced to live. All the abuse, neglect, the way the rest of the city seemed to abandon The Narrows and everyone in it.
"Jack... You're always hurting yourself. Could you try to be more careful? At least for me? If something happened to you... I don't know what I would do... You know I love you, but if I have to bandage you up one more time, I'm seriously going to slug you."
Opening his eyes, something on the ground caught his attention. Furrowing his brows, he smacked the handgun down against the crate and slowly stood up, taking another drag from the cigarette between his ruined lips. Crouching down and shifting his head to the side, dark eyes flickered back and forth, reading the bold words on the newspaper.
GOTHAM ENTERS NEW ERA
Raising a brow, the title seemed completely out of place, considering the state this city was in. Who had the balls to think of something so ridiculous, let alone type it? Did anyone actually believe garbage like this? Smacking his lips together, he read the article, taking in every word.
Skimming line by line, he was almost in shock by what he was reading. It was saying that the new Commissioner was working hard cleaning up the streets of Gotham, strategically taking on the mob and trying to shut them down, street by street. The police force was doing everything in their power, working overtime to protect the law-abiding citizens and keep them safe. Some vigilante was trying to help snagging criminals left and right, taking the law into their own hands. The crime rate was at an all time low due to their efforts, making the city a safe place to live. They didn't recommend anyone to follow in the caped crusader's footsteps, asking people to leave their safety in the hands of Gotham's real heroes, the men in blue. The article ended by thanking the Gotham City Police Department for all their hard work.
Jack bolted up, staring at the words wildly as his entire body shook, trembling in rage. His lips curled up into a snarl, spitting on the newspaper.
'Crime was at an all time low?! The police were working hard?! What city did they fucking live in!'
The cops rarely showed up in The Narrows and if they did, it was never to help. No, they weren't referring to this section of the city. Everyone just wanted to pretend it didn't exist, that it wasn't part of Gotham. It was easier for them to just ignore it all together. People always tried to avert their gaze at things that were ugly or made them uncomfortable, the same way they did towards him. The police were no better, only coming around for dirty business or money, using their power to get what they wanted.
'How many times did they help us! They took me in and fucking let Todd stay home and drink! Where were they when Sakura died? No one heard anything or didn't call? Who let him run away, after they arrested him for show?! All they do is sit on their asses and collect money from the fucking mob!'
"Forget about it, Jack. They don't care about us. We're just Narrow trash to them. We'll get out of here someday, that'll show them! Hahaha! They can't do anything if we leave the city..."
Grabbing the gun, he aimed towards the article on the floor, seething.
BANG. Click. Click. Click. Click.
A cold sweat broke out, running down his gaunt face. He panted hard, shoulders rising and falling. Lowering the gun with a shaky hand, teeth dug into his bottom lip, tearing it open. Blood filled his mouth, barely registering the metallic taste as he bit down harder. The rage coursing through his body broke him out of the daze he'd been in, filling that empty space with something entirely different. An anger so hot, it burned black, wanting to swallow up everything in reach.
Gotham was a safe place to live now? Crime was at an all time low?
Running a hand through his dirty blonde hair, a growl echoed throughout the empty building. That shot had been meant for him, not the delusional words of some fool, who was trying to push a fictitious account of the current state of the city. Perhaps they needed to see what was really festering in Gotham with their own eyes. He would be more than willing to show them.
"Ha... Hah... Haha... AHAHAHAHAHA!"
Now he was out of bullets...
If he hadn't been thinking about Sakura, he wouldn't have been distracted enough to even notice the headline. That last bullet would have been lodged into his skull. If it wasn't for her, he'd be lying dead on the floor of an abandoned warehouse...probably for weeks, before someone found it.
'Saved me again...'
"HOHAHAHAHA!" Gotham was hilarious! A big, terrible joke... Was this how they really saw themselves?
"I'll show them who they really are..."
