Chapter Three – Double Trouble

In a shabby area of Gotham City, deep below the building skylines, the lone Joker that managed to escape Max's forces runs towards a very old building that has a large word 'Condemned' painted on the front side of it's crumbling stone wall. This is part of Old Gotham City, a place that was built over after the major Earthquake that sent it into ruin, the homeless and unwanted stay in this part of town, as it is their only means of shelter left. The clown-faced thug runs up and enters the building; he then approaches an old elevator and presses the button for service. The rusty metal doors open with a grinded squelch and he steps in quickly as they soon shut behind him afterwards. The inside building looks more like an old hotel, one that many rich and well-traveled individual might have been too in the past. But now it looks dark and spooky, the once lavish main entrance is now like walking into a haunted house. As the elevator rises up, the clown man becomes nervous and starts to perspire slightly as each passing floor brings him closer to the last stop. It soon sharply stops and shows him on the indicator above that he has reached the penthouse. The doors open again in their rusted squeaks and he steps out into the very large room. The whole place is almost like the lower level he came from, what was once a very beautiful place is now a decaying, filthy scene. Walking through the room and down carpeted steps that led to the wooden floor below, he slowly walked to the end of the room where a massive antique desk sat and looked just as decayed as the rest of the place. A deep brown leather chair was placed behind it, turned with it's back facing the man. As the Joker gang member stopped in front of the desk, a male voice boomed out from behind the chair.

"What are you doing here?" The male voice asked in a serious tone. "I thought I told you to go out and light up the town!"

"S-s-sorry Sir." The gang member gulped. "We'z was just doin' what you said...and...and then the cops came! We did torch the old Wayne rehab center like you said."

"That's not the point." A woman's voice now said from the shadows. "You didn't finish your job!"

As she stepped out, the man gasped at her presence. She was a young looking woman with long flowing green hair and had a face painted like a Raggedy Ann doll. Her clothes looked like a cross between Harley Quinn's old costume with a very short purple jacket that looked lightly fashionable on her. Just as she stood there smiling at him in a rather quirky manner, another female voice came out from the other shadow filled corner on the opposite side.

"Jokers are always suppose to finish what they start and you didn't finish..."

The woman that came out this shadow almost looked the same as the other, both had nearly the same clothes and painted faces, the only difference between them was that the one spoke first had black tights with red spades on them, and the other one had red tights with black spades on them. The two women sat on either side of the desk and looked as if they were posing for a picture, the big grinning smiles seemed evil and yet stunning to the man.

"I was going to finish...but...but..." The clown faced man stuttered.

The two women looked at each other and frowned sarcastically.

"Not a very good Joker is he Dee Dee?"

"No Dee Dee, I don't know how he ever managed to get in our gang."

Suddenly the brown leather chair turned around and the man sitting in it became barely visible, the shadows seemed to keep most of his appearance in the dark as the mysterious man stared at this thug. In the pitch back shadow, the only thing that could be seen was a great big yellow smile, a toothy grin that didn't seem humanly possible to make. The eyes were white and like slits, almost like Batman's staring out and showing no pupils what so ever. His purple-gloved hands folded together as he began to talk again.

"Why didn't you finish the job?" The smiling face said sternly.

"The Commissioner...she was there. The cops where all over the place and the guys I was with got tagged before we could regroup in the ally. I didn't have the weapons, one of the other guys had the bag of it...what could I have done?" The man nervously explains.

Dee Dee on the right of him laughed and shook her head.

"That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard. Mr. Smiley needs people that can finish with a bang...you could have wired yourself to explode and taken out that bitch!"

"What?!" The thug gasps in horror. "But...that would mean killing myself! I don't want to end up dead."

The man called Mr. Smiley stands up out of his chair; the light now shows that he is in fact wearing a white mask that looks like an overly grinning clown's face. The painted green eye brows on the mask looked evil as they made his eyes look insane, his hair was a dark black with hues of green in the highlighted parts the light could show. He was dressed very similar like the old Joker, a long purple coat with tails, purple gloves, a white long-sleeved shirt with a small black string tie and even an overly large yellow flower on his lapel.

"This is what it means to be in our gang Giggles, we need to be the most violent, crazy and toughest crime ring this city has ever witnessed! We need to live up to the name, Joker, to honor the greatest madman that ever lived!!"

The thug looked at all of them as the two girls clapped with pride and Mr. Smiley bowing as if he was enjoying the applause.

"You people are insane! I just wanted to mess around you know, do some pranks, steal some money, maybe even tease the cops a bit? But I don't want to actually kill people!" He said to them as he backed away with disgust.

The overly smiling villain stood there and gazed at him with a calm attitude, his eyes lowered as he watched the man back away from them.

"You know...Dee Dee was right. How the dreg did you get into this gang?"

His gloved hand soon pointed a gun at the scared thug; an overly large looking hand weapon that looked like it belonged in a cartoon. The thug pleaded him not to shoot and quickly turned to run for his life. Smiley pulled the trigger and a large spring shot across the room, as the man tripped and fell on the small carpeted stairs, his face turned around in time to see the end of the spring reaching his face. At the end of this novelty joke, was a small silver bullet, as it just finally reached the mans face, the bullet opened up and a small flag popped out of it that read, 'Boom'. The bullet and flag dropped from the coils end and landed on the man's stomach harmlessly.

"Whew!" He sighed with relief and then laughed hysterically as he thought he was going to die. "That's a funny joke guys...boy...you sure got me with that one."

As the masked man looked on, both Dee Dee's dived behind his table as if they knew something was about to happen.

"That's not the punch line friend." Mr. Smiley calmly stated.

Suddenly a small click sound came from the open bullet and as the man looked down on it in surprise, the bullet exploded and sent his body part everywhere across the room. Smiley didn't even move from where he was standing and watch it all very unemotionally. With the area still smoldering with his remains, the evil gang leader ended pointed his finger at where the man once was and shot his fingers like a gun.

"Bang, Bang...you're dead. Now that's comedy."

The twin girls rose up slowly and looked at one another.

"Remind me why we we're in the gang again Dee Dee?"

"Because of the many perks and surprises Dee Dee."

The one twin that asked the question rubbed her head and giggled.

"Nana Harley would have been so proud of us Dee Dee."

The other one giggled this time and rolled her eyes.

"As if Dee Dee. If she hadn't died we probably would have ended up in a reform school."

"I like this life better Dee Dee." The red spandex clothed woman replies.

"So do I Dee Dee...much more sane."

They both continue to giggle away as Mr. Smiley sits back into his chair and presses and intercom button on his desk.

"Bigpants...Squeakers...clean up on isle seven. On the double."

"Coming boss." One of them replies back on the intercom.

The twins sit back on the desk and look at their serious sounding employer.

"Hey Mr. S, how come you don't ever laugh? Usually a guy like you would get a riot out of doing stuff like this." Dee Dee on the left of him asks.

Folding his hands together again the blank and dead eyes of the man look at her, "Does that concern you Dee Dee?"

Now Dee Dee on the right of him answers for her, "No, but it's just strange is all we're saying. The real Joker would have been laughing his head off or something."

The man looks over to the other one speaking and leans back in his chair as he answers her.

"Well I'm not him...I'm Mr. Smiley, the man who is going to grin at Gotham when we take over completely. In our founders name, we shall become the chaos supreme."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

McGinnis strolled the streets casually in the new upper level walkways of Gotham city, looking around he could see how much things had changed since he last been there, buildings now had walkways wrapped around them with interconnecting junctions all of which looked very secure and well built. It seems that the city has left behind it's past and buried it under the new rising levels of modern times. "Flying Cars" as the older generation use to say, has now become a reality and probably the new pollution of the future. Skyways was just a silly slang word they use to spout in movies predicting the future, but now looking up above him, he could see that this was a growing industry that no longer was science fiction. Crime was now literally the underworld of Gotham City, an entire playground for thugs, thieves, gangs and homeless people to take over and do with as they pleased. Terry shook his head thinking about that, if Bruce had his way, those lower regions would still be part of the new Gotham of today. One thing Terry had to admire about the late great Bruce Wayne was that he always managed to inspire and change events in the crime-ridden city for the better. Could he say that about himself? What will be his lasting legacy for anyone to remember? A no-good kid that took over a great company and sent it to ruins? He was almost dreading meeting the shareholders in the morning, for they would surely eye him with great distrust and lose faith in Wayne Enterprises.

As he turned the corner, a woman's muffled cry for help came out from one of the buildings shadow filled alleys. For such a clean and well-lit area, he couldn't believe there'd be any criminal activity up in this part. He started to investigate the sound of the woman's voice, a detective instinct he seemed almost compelled to follow, and peered around the dark stonewall from where the sound had traveled. Sure enough, there was a poor helpless young woman being harassed by a group of Jokers. The clown copycat trio were taunting her and holding her personal data portfolio. These devices were now considered like wallets or purses, personal computers of the new era that contained everything about the person and even their credit account pin numbers. The woman begged them to give it back but the laughing group of thugs mocked her and threatened to give her a brand of "Joker" punishment. Joker punishment, it could range from anything from simply telling a bad joke, beating the person with an inch of their lives or raping them and painting the face after with a big stupid smile. This was the sort of garbage Terry had witnessed all his life, even Dana was given such a threat during one night he cancelled a date with her, if he hadn't been there patrolling the same street that night as Batman, she wouldn't have been so lucky as to escape that deadly encounter. Terry swore that he never let happen to her at all, even after they broke up. But his mind often wandered back to his uncaring nature before he met Wayne, of just walking by and not getting involved with such dangerous people, but flashes of his father laying dead and Bruce dressed as Batman awoke his mind out of that pattern of thought. Listening to this foolish behavior was far enough for Terry as if he was wearing the old Bat costume itself; he stepped out and did what was right.

"Alright clowns...why don't you leave the lady alone and give back her stuff. It's obvious she doesn't find you funny at all. In fact...I think you dregs are pathetic."

The three thugs looked behind and saw Terry standing there still in his funeral attire, the tie was gone from his neck and his black jacket was slightly open. He stood there straight as a pin and kept a deadly stare at each one of them. The first clown was skinny with an oversized yellow dress coat with vertical green and red striped pants. His face was long and painted white with black circles around his eyes, he was the leader of the group and carrying a large bat in his hand.

"Stay out of this pal!" He says tapping the bat in his hands. "We're the Jokers, nobody messes with us...so why don't you back away and play hero somewhere else."

Terry began to walk forward un-phased, his dead look into their eyes seemed to give them a sense that this guy means business. The burly looking thug beside the leader cracked his knuckles with anticipation and smirked at this fool coming closer. This second afro-American clown was a sizable foe, a painted sad mime face was his trademark, sporting a tightly fitting short black and white prison shirt that nearly didn't cover his huge frame, and wearing a black spandex jumpsuit which was barely covering his huge leg muscles. Some would have found the man's big floppy red shoes amusing a long time ago, but in the future city of Gotham, this was far from hilarious.

"I'm going to break a smile on you so hard...your going to have a plastic surgeon rebuild your features!" The large gruff looking man says to him.

Terry never gives into fear; his face is still as solid as stone as he continues to walk in. The Joker gangs were a push over when he was Batman, a poor excuse to the memory of the most infamous nut job, but he couldn't help but notice they looked somewhat stronger nowadays.

"Did you think of that one yourself big guy?" Terry mocks back. "Or have you been saving that stupid line for sometime now?"

The last Joker gang member was average in height and looked Asian in origin. His whole appearance looked as if he was trying to be a kabuki theater actor with a bit of western clown influence. His pale face and rosy cheeks were almost feminine in design, the third rate red, yellow and green samurai outfit looked as if it was made by cheap labor. Perhaps it was a symbol of Asian workhouses that churned out quick, cheap no-name brands of clothing. As if he was sending a message that his people were wronged in the previous century. But judging by the smug laughter of this man, it was very apparent that he was doing none of that. Just some stupid Asian American kid, looking to belong with all the wrong sorts.

"Get him Mime Time! Nobody tries to out joke the Jokers!" The samurai clown shouts at his big friend."

Terry stops and scoffs the nickname of the big clown, "Mime Time?? Geez, who gives you these awful cliché names anyhow? Seriously...I think you guys are losing originality here."

Mime Time didn't like Terry's snappy banter and rushed him with his hands ready to grab the guy and rip him apart. Terry stands still like a rock and a soon as the large thug reaches for him, he ducks down and sends a powerful jab to the clown's gut and incredibly follows through with it in a powerful lift. The man flies up into the air and crash lands back onto his back very hard, Terry now squats down to the ground and somersaults into the air backwards and lands on top of the man with both feet. The jab knocks wind out of Mime Time and lays out unconscious. The other two Jokers look at one another in amazement and suddenly rush over to take a swing at Terry still smiling on top of their friend. The samurai looking clown kicks and swings with his fists at the young man, but Terry's new training in martial arts has given him supreme speed and lightening fast counter attacks. A combo high kick with a quick spin whirl to his head sends the man to the dark looking wall like a crash test dummy. The last one left tries to take a few deadly blows to Terry from behind, but the skilled martial artist manages to out maneuver the swings and turns around with flying fists of his own. The quick and powerful jabs to his gut; chest and head were so fast they happened all within two seconds of one another. The long faced clown stood there with a bewildered look on his face as soon as Terry stopped, with one last look at the criminal, Terry took his two fingers of his right hand and pushed the man on the forehead down to the ground. With a simple groan of pain, the thug was out like a light. The three Jokers laid all around him as he stood there wiping his hands off, for all the worldly training and masters of martial arts Bruce sent him too, it really looked like it paid off.

"McGinnis three...bad guys...zip!" Terry mused to himself.

Looking over at the helpless victim still cowering down on the ground with her face covered, Terry walked over to her and helped her up. The young blonde Caucasian woman looked at Terry and at the men he managed to take out and hugged him with great thanks. She didn't speak a word to him, her grateful tears poured out of her as she repeatedly thanked him over and over. It was clear that the woman traumatized by the attack and he kept her gripped in his arms as he led her out to the safety. Together they returned to the streets of Gotham and began to feel that this sort of new pattern in the Jokers was very mysterious indeed. Laughs were all the Jokers ever wanted to get, stupid teens that think their being cool or very rebellious by committing petty theft, but now their brutal violence was a new turn for the worst in this group. The woman was already beaten by the time Terry had reached her, the bruises on her harms and face was terrifying evidence of that. Max was right, this was definitely not the same gang he had left behind years ago, these were gangsters being taught to be psychopaths. He needed to talk to Max again about this, after seeing and dealing with this group; he needed to find out more.

"Are you hurt bad miss?" He asked her as the stepped out into the bright lights of Gotham again.

"I...I think I'm ok." She says trembling with shock. "Thank god you came when you did...I fought back as much as I could but...but..."

She begins to sob again into his chest and Terry stokes her back in comfort. He takes out a small videophone, presses one of the buttons on it and holds it up to eye level. A holographic image appears of an Afro-American police officer's head, green in hue with a grainy texture to it.

"Gotham City Police, how may I help you?" The man says in a bored tone.

"I need a squad car to the lower buisness level on 83rd, there's been an attack here and woman who needs treatment." Terry says to the cop.

"A unit is on it's way...please stay where you are for questioning." The black man yawns as he gives him the instructions and hangs up.

Terry is appauled by the man's lack of sympathy, but then again this must be a daily occurance in Gotham, still he could have at least shown some sort of compassion. In the distance he could hear the sirens of the unit heading his way and looked up at the dark sky above him that was barely visible from the glow of the city lights.

"Dear god...what have I done to this place?" Terry thought to himself. "Did I make it worst from leaving? Or for even putting on that damn costume in the first place?"