"Well, Wayne, it's like this. I have a smaller business and I was hoping to have my business grow. Things are really tight right now though and I need someone to help me out," said Joe.

"This is an enterprise, not a bank Mr. Kerr," replied Wayne.

"Hold on, just hear me out! I don't want a loan; I'm looking for someone to buy out the company. I thought why not have the best take over? They could probably handle it better than I could."

"Okay. What is you're company about? What do you specialize in?" Bruce asked, mainly just to humor Mr. Kerr.

"Well, my business is a novelty shop. We sell whoopee cushions, fake throw-up and poop, sneezing powder, things like that."

You have got to be kidding me, thought Bruce. There's got to be some way to get rid of these clowns. Why do they look so familiar anyway?

Mr. Kerr continued, "What we specialize in are rubber chickens! Think of it as the wave of the future!"

As he said this, his assistant brought out a box and put it on the desk. She opened it up and in it were some rubber chickens. Mr. Kerr took out one and held it up for display.

"Well? What do you think?"

"I think that I can see no use in me buying off the company from you. Frankly, I wouldn't know what to do with it. Furthermore,"

"Excuse me, Mr. J?" said the assistant in a snobby tone.

Bruce's ears perked up. Oh great. They really are clowns! Two very dangerous clowns. What do they want with Bruce Wayne? He thought. "Mr. J?" he repeated.

"Ummm, yeah. J for uh, Joseph! Of course!" replied Mr. Kerr, a little nervous. He gave his assistant an evil glare. "What is it?" he asked in a somewhat agitated tone.

"This one smells a little funny," she replied. She held one up in her hand, as if it was carrying a disease.

"Nonsense! They're perfectly fine rubber chickens! Let me see that."

He took the chicken out of her hand and sniffed it. He couldn't sense that anything was wrong with it. He checked it out further, snapping the head back. There was a faint clicking sound.

"Everything seems to be fine with this one. Here Wayne, you take a look at it."

He tossed the chicken onto the desk. Bruce rolled back into his chair afraid of what would happen. Nothing did. He began to look at it.

"Yeah, it seems to be alright," replied Wayne.

He spoke too soon though. As he held it in his hand, he heard a faint hissing noise. He looked at the chicken. Out of its beak came smoke. It quickly filled around the area that Bruce was currently occupying. Bruce coughed until he fell unconscious.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Perfect! Now to apply the most important part!" said the Joker.

He took out a small microchip from the inside pocket of his jacket. He placed it on Bruce's neck. Then, he placed a small flesh colored band-aid to hide the microchip from any onlookers.

"Now he's totally under my control! And once again, you almost managed to screw it all up Harl!" He glared at her once again.

"Sorry puddin', it slipped," she replied nervously.

"Never mind. Get the smelling salts and wake our new toy up."

She took out the vial of smelling salts, undid the cap and waved it under Bruce's nose. It did the trick. Bruce woke up, but didn't say anything. He was truly under control of the Joker's sick, twisted mind. He was waiting to be told what to do.

"Now, as first order of business, I say we should pay a visit to the Penguin! He'll go ballistic once he sees you. HA HA HA! Follow me."

Bruce Wayne had no choice but to obey. Harley followed Bruce out the door. Miss Sommers was at her desk, watching them leave together.

"Mr. Wayne, wait! Where are you going?"

"We're going out to dinner. Got a problem with that, toots?" said Mr. Kerr.

"No, not at all...." said Miss Sommers.


:: Iceberg Lounge ::


The Penguin was sitting in his office. He was admiring his latest find. It was the Double Dragon statue. The Judge had given it to him the night before, saying that he had no use for it. The Penguin thought it was rather odd. After all, the first time he had met the Judge was when he was fencing stolen goods from various criminals. And now the Judge just decides to hand him over this priceless relic that was just stolen the night before? It was very odd, sort of out of character for him. But the Penguin never passed up an opportunity when he saw it. He figured that the Judge must be down on his luck if he's going to start committing the crimes he so willingly punishes. He did, however, have excellent taste in artifacts. There was a knock on the door.

"Just a minute," said the Penguin.

He quickly put the statue into the safe in his office. Then he sat back down at his desk.

"Come in."

"Penguin! It's been so long since I've seen you! How's business?" asked the Joker.

"What in the world are you doing in here?"

"Why, I've come to repay the debt of course!"

"And just how do you intend to do that?"

"With my newest sponsor! Harl, send him in!"

In walked Bruce Wayne.

"My word, I don't believe it! How did you manage to pull this off?" exclaimed the Penguin.

"Just a little luck, that's all," chuckled Joker.

"I must say, I'm impressed."

"So, how much does he owe you?"

"$25,000. Need I remind you, you blew up the entire kitchen."

"Wow, really costs a lot to run a place like this, huh?"

"Yes. Now, about the money...."

"Oh yeah! Bruce, write him a check."

Bruce willingly obeys the command. He hands the Penguin a check for $25,000.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Penguin!"

"Likewise, Joker. Let's hope it doesn't happen again."

The Joker and Bruce left the office, leaving the Penguin alone to admire the check. So that's what he wanted with those microchips, he thought. As he sat there, the door suddenly flew wide open. In the doorway stood the Judge.

"Penguin, your day in court has come."


:: Wayne Manor ::


"Thank you for calling Miss Sommers. I'll make sure that Master Bruce is alright."

"Who was that?" asked Tim.

"Master Bruce's assistant from work. She said that he left with two somewhat odd people this afternoon," replied Alfred. "I suggest that you go start on your training, Master Timothy. No telling how long he'll be gone. I want to make sure that you've done as he's asked before he arrives."

"Awww man! Fine, but I get to go out tonight if he goes!" whined Tim.

"Very well then, but that's not my call."

As soon as Tim disappeared behind the grandfather clock, the doorbell rang. Alfred went to get the door. When he opened it, he saw a purple car parked in front of the house. In front of him, stood Bruce Wayne.

"Good evening, sir. I trust you had a wonderful dinner? The roasted pheasant that I slaved over all day has since been put away for future use."

"Hey Alfred, I want you to make our guests as comfortable as possible tonight, okay?"

"Guests, sir?" asked Alfred looking past Bruce.

"Oh honey, I'm home!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" cackled the Joker.

"Oh dear," said Alfred.