The call had come in a minute ago. It took another minute to get it recorded. Then it was given top priority and sent to the top. Urgent, look at this now.

Whatever the state of his mind was, whenever there was an anonymous tip that claimed to know about the Joker and his impending whereabouts, that was always top priority no matter what the situation was.

This presented a problem. Victor Fires was still on the lam, but here was something that claimed to know where the Joker was going to show up and do so in the immediate future. At least, that was what the claim was.

Two highly dangerous maniacs, both well known for their ability to create wanton acts of destruction, some of it citywide. Was it possible that they could remove one from this highly unstable powder keg and that this would be the chance to do it?

This would be moving resources from one priority to another. Based on history, nothing short of going all out would be the minimum, so one of these fugitives would have top priority. But which one?

One tried to turn the city into an ice block and nearly succeeded. The other tried to burn down the city, twice. One had stayed in a cell in Blackgate for years with no peep. The other was finding new ways faster and faster to get out of Arkham. Both had body counts. One was larger than the other. Both were nightmares to have out of custody.

So which should be the priority? Recapturing Fries first had its arguments. Because he had been so quiet, would recapture have the same effect as the first capture, eliminating a threat for years to come and allow them to then refocus all attention on the Joker? The biggest problem was no one knew where he was.

They had intel now of where the Joker was going to be and when. There was no guarantee that Joker would stay captive though, and could escape as soon as he was captured. The man was that dangerous, resourceful, and unpredictable.

But they knew where he was going to be.

This was a call where you were damned if you do, damned if you don't. There was only one kind of response to either of these men and you didn't want to short change yourself. It was all or nothing.

The only thing that he bet everyone could agree on was that there was no time to sit on it.

Gordon knew he wasn't on the top of his game. He was on the way out, but he still needed to be at his best. Sarah would have torn him a new one by now so…

He picked up the phone and called Dispatch.

"I want all available units, including those on the Fries manhunt, to go to the waste treatment plant. Send in SWAT, get all the artillery we have, tanks, I don't care. We have a lead on the Joker and we're going in after him."

There was his decision. As he put down the phone, he hoped it was the right one.


It was a couple blocks away from the Row apartment, and they might have been in there except Harper, or Bluebird, really wanted to keep a separation of day and night lives right now.

Spoiler would have preferred to be inside, somewhere, than on your trope of a rooftop because it was starting to get a bit humid in this place. She didn't have allergies, but ever need to breathe when it was too humid? Too much water in the air made things harder than they needed to be was all she was saying.

But there was something more important than the humidity. Spoiler was going to spill her concerns and make sure her partner here knew about them.

"I don't think we're ready for this."

Short and simple, yes. Let's not dance around with this one.

"Things haven't gotten that bad," Bluebird was quick to retort. "Just because things start looking horrible doesn't mean you give up right then and there. We've been through worse before!"

"And why go through worse again?" the hooded vigilante from the suburbs dryly replied. "Just because we've been through horrible things doesn't mean we should keep, I don't know, zeroing in on them. Yeah, save someone's life, okay, dangerous, but that's part of the job. These are the baddies that when put together had Batman running. It's one thing to take one of them on at a time, but all of them? This is above our pay grade and we're not getting paid."

"This coming from the girl who went out all by herself when the Riddler held the city hostage?"

"Like I said, I was trying to save you, and save Cullen, because let's face it, your brother wouldn't know what to do with himself if anything happened to you. We keep to trouble we know how to handle—"

"And not the trouble we don't? I think it's pretty clear Batman doesn't know how to handle it, but he's going to try anyway!" Bluebird responded heatedly.

Bluebird was a good friend, cared a lot more than she let on, and when not threatening the household electronics was someone fun to be around. She could be headstrong and would sometimes need to be talked, or beat down first before pulling back. Nightwing was good at doing the talking part and wouldn't shy from the beat part. Hell, he'd be saying they'd need to keep away from this latest mess.

But Bluebird was also the kind of person who needed to prove something, or felt that they needed to. Convincing them otherwise was like hitting your head against a wall. Repeatedly. However, for all her points about needing to stand up and fight, there was always something for picking the right fights.

"We're not Batman!" It wasn't quite a yell, but it was definitely louder than normal speaking tones. "We're two teenaged girls with slightly more training than the average karate school student! Yeah, we got some neat toys, but what are they going to do against…" How many had been there? Seven…eight...nine… "...ten guys like that! That plant lady, a reptile guy, that bat thing, the Joker! The freaking Joker!"

"They all fry the same," Bluebird stated, hefting up her taser rifle so that it was more visible.

"They had guns too. And the one guy had needles on his hand. And the Riddler! I don't know half of them, but I'm willing to bet most of them have had Batman on the ropes, by themselves! Two-Face! Remember him? Remember how much trouble he caused? Blew up City Hall! Fat load of good a taser does with that!"

"I remember." Something about Bluebird's tone of voice stopped Spoiler from continuing. "I remember how bad it got. It got real bad. No one talks about it, but when Two-Face was running around, it got the creeps and assholes in my neighborhood worked up. They thought they could do anything. Did do anything, because Batman was too distracted taking Two-Face down. That's why I got all dressed up. That's how we met too, remember? By the way, whatever did you do with that old costume? It was way too pink."

She had plans to burn the thing, but a fire in the middle of the suburbs was a very obvious thing, and the pink monstrosity—as she saw it now—was hidden away in her room for...posterity's sake. The reminder of how much of a n00b she had been was, well, it was more than a little embarrassing.

Wait, hold on, why was she getting caught up in a memory that wasn't even relevant? Why would she even want to waste time thinking about it? "Isn't that why we're teaming up again? To make sure your neighborhood is safer? Gets better? If the creeps living in it hear about all those bad guys from Arkham are on the loose, and remaining out, wouldn't that make them think they can get away with more? Batman's not going to be looking at them, he'll be going after the maniacs! We're needed here more than getting in Batman's way, don't you think?"

Once, Spoiler wouldn't have been able to think like that. Try thinking your old way after having the Riddler get you to think in riddles all the time and see what happens.

Bluebird looked away for a few seconds, probably because she didn't expect her own words to be used against her. "You know it's only a matter of time until those maniacs show up here. They don't know rules, don't care about them. They just might walk through the neighborhood because...reasons. I don't know. I'm not a maniac."

All the threats to her household appliances begged to differ, but Spoiler wasn't going to bring them up right now. "Harper," and that was to let the other girl know how serious she was, "this scares me. There were so many of them. All of them are dangerous, have to be dangerous. We don't have Nightwing here to pull our asses out of the fire this time. We're not any of the Birds. We're two kids."

"What about Red Robin and that team of his?" Bluebird cut in, glaring the hooded vigilante down. "He's a kid too. How is he better than us?"

"That team has superpowers and we don't," Spoiler retorted. "One of them is made of metal! One has armor! You know that 'cause you wouldn't stop bragging about how you saved her ass for a week! And right now they're getting Justice League support! It's been in the news and it's all online too! Who the hell are we? Two girls, with no powers, and they are some of the worst Gotham has to offer! If we're not careful, we'll be like Red Hood! Hell, one of them did kill Red Hood! They're going to kill us if we act stupid! We have to be smart about this or we're going to wind up dead and…and...what's gonna happen to Cullen then? Remember what he was like with the Riddler? He doesn't deserve to spend the rest of his life like that and you know it!"

Bluebird was glowering, but she wasn't speaking. Spoiler knew her words had reached her partner, but the blue-dyed girl was being stubborn and trying to come up with some kind of argument. Spoiler alert, if she had one, she would have already used it by now and the fact she hadn't said anything yet meant she hadn't thought of one.

For Bluebird, it was a hard pill to swallow. For Spoiler, it was a victory that didn't feel as big as it should have. She wasn't gung-ho, she wasn't headstrong, and she wasn't the best fighter around. That meant...that meant she needed to be smart then. That's what she had learned throughout that whole Riddler crisis. You had to be smart, or you were going to have a bad day.

The worst day was the one you were killed.

So yeah, she was pulling out all the stops, going for low blows, using everything she had to try and talk her partner here out of having the worst day of all their lives. She'd rather have Bluebird alive and pissed off at her than...you know.

"We can still work here," she said in a softer voice, gesturing to the slum around them. "It needs us more than the whole city. And if we can make it a better place, we make the city a better place. No one can take that away from us, right? It's not the big, flashy, showdown with a bunch of crazy maniacs, but it's something that will outlast all of them. No one deserves to live here, afraid, and under threat from assholes who don't want to do anything better with their lives. You deserve better. Cullen deserves better. So let's make it better whether they like it or not."

Bluebird tightened her grip on her taser rifle, its barrel pointed away, but there was no fear Spoiler had that it would be used on her. The other girl was struggling, but again, could give no real argument against the hooded vigilante and she knew it. Spoiler wasn't the social media influencer that she used to be any more. Spoiler Alert was not her biggest priority. What good did exposing celebrities' biggest secrets ever accomplish?

"Did anyone tell you how annoying you are when you're right?" Bluebird finally said, and you could hear the surrender in her voice. Any other time, that would have been music to Spoiler's ears, but not right now.

"I've been told I'm stuck up a lot," she admitted.

A wry smirk was flashed towards her. "In this neighborhood, you can expect to be that every couple of blocks."

Balling a hand, Spoiler punched it into the palm of her other hand. "So what's on the schedule for today. Leads? Stake out? Who we targeting tonight? No more of those Thug guys."

"There will be no Thuggees tonight."

"Great! So who—"

As one, the two vigilantes snapped their heads to the side, Bluebird's right and Spoiler's left, and practically blending into the night was—

"Where the hell did you come from?!" Bluebird exclaimed, jostling her rifle.

As if she had been there the whole time, there stood Batgirl in all her black, blending-into-the-night glory. Thanks to that mask, there was no expression either of them could go off of. The way the eyes looked hollow and how that face covering seemed to mold around her lips was a neat look…

"There is something I need to do," Batgirl stated. "Since you two do not know how to keep out of business, I will go over you and recruit you for an assignment. It will be dangerous. You could get hurt and maimed for life. Interested?"

There was a sinking feeling Spoiler felt. It would only be later that she would figure out what and why she had that feeling. A quick glance to Bluebird would only seal the deal with this...bat...devil, which one should Batgirl be considered right now?

Regardless, whatever defeat was in Bluebird posture had vanished completed, the punk-themed vigilante exclaiming, "Are we?"

Batgirl tilted her head to a side. "Is that a yes or no?"

So did the train wreck begin.


The sights, the smells, it was all intoxicating. Nothing spoke closer to the human condition than raw sewage being transformed into less contaminated water. After all, there was no process that filtered out the waste one hundred percent.

The Joker danced his way down the walkway, a wall to his right, a railing to his left preventing him from falling into the green and brown sludge. He spun around in a circle, arms out to his sides before he came to a stop, taking a back step before springing forward.

Then Harley was at his side, doing her own dance. Like magnets, they were drawn together and their hands clasped together, his arm finding its way around her waist as hers sought out his shoulders. Now that they were dancing together, they began to waltz down the walkway.

And forming the rear was their hired muscle, one of whom had his faces scrunched up from the smells of the sewage. It wasn't a surprise that Croc wasn't bothered by it, but Scarecrow? He just walked as if he wasn't offended by the ambiance.

It was also possible the gas mask he wore helped filter out all of the rotting odors.

"Are you clowns going to tell us why we're at a waste treatment plant?" Two-Face complained. "While you may find this a great place for a date, but I don't."

The Joker dipped Harley, her head nearly touching the floor as she raised a leg high into the air to help balance them. The Joker glanced at the two-faced man and grinned. "It's a surprise, Harv, and just like the health care bill, we have to pass through to find out what's in it."

"I'd like to know what it is we're looking for as well," Scarecrow chimed in. "If this is just a sick joke of yours, then it is a waste of time when we should be concerning ourselves with Strange."

"Our deranged shrink is going to be licking his wounds for a moment and then preparing for his next shenanigan, so we have quite a bit of time. He likes plots that reveal themselves over the long haul." Joker raised Harley up and they continued their waltz until they reached a turn, the railing cutting them off and forcing them to the right.

"Where are we going then?" Croc then asked. "I don't care one way or other, but at least knowing where we're going would help."

The two clowns then split, the Joker crossing an arm in front of his stomach while Harley spread both of her arms out to either side of her. Simultaneously, they bowed to each other, thus ending their dance. "With all treatment centers, there is a room simply known as a contamination room. I suppose each has their own name for it, but its the place where they store contaminated materials they are unable to successfully clean. That, my walking leather wallet, is where we are going."

"So we're picking up some special toxic waste," Two-Face surmised, grumbling as he did so. "What are you doing to do with it, throw it at Strange and see if he melts like the Wicked Witch?"

The Joker spun to face the man of two faces and jabbed a finger at him. "That! Is not a half-bad idea, actually. I'll have to remember that one, Harv."

"Will you guys quit giving Mr. J a hard time?" Harley added. "You can bet that whatever it is we're after, it's gonna be good."

The Joker reached a hand out and patted the clown girl on the head, which earned him a squeal of approval. "See, why don't you three take a page out of Harley's book and just do what I tell you. Now onward! Our treasure awaits!"

Harley immediately went into a cartwheel, flipping into a handstand and back onto her feet over and over, always to a side. The Joker had to admit just how fit the girl was on that. Her tight costume was showing off all of her good sides.

The rest of the villainous troop followed her as they made the turn. "So where exactly is that room?" Croc asked.

"It'll be a secured room with specialized access," Scarecrow told him. "If what we're after is what the Joker considers to be important, it won't be something we'd be able to easily get."

Two-Face snorted. "Are you kidding? This place has the EPA up its ass with motions to shut it down for environmentally unsafe waste disposal practices. Then there's OSHA with their motions for unsafe working conditions. We are literally walking in a toilet bowl that hasn't been flushed in decades."

"And isn't that glorious!" the Joker exclaimed. "Why, it takes me all the way home. I'm on a 90's nostalgia trip here!"

Deeper and deeper they went into the plant, the river of sludge having gone off in a different direction to the machines that would poorly attempt to clean it. That left them in a hallway that really could have used a good scrubbing. It made the ones at Arkham look sterile in comparison.

It was there, however, that Croc perked up. His nose was flaring open as he seemed to be smelling the air. He then let out a growl. "Something ain't right," he said lowly.

"Are ya smelling something, Croc?" the Joker asked him giddily. "Are ya? Are ya?"

"Yeah, I—" the giant crocodile man stopped and glared at him. "I ain't a dog, clown—remember that. And I can smell aftershave and gun oil."

"That's us, you idiot," Two-Face groused. He then helped up his handgun, flashing it in front of Croc's face. "See?"

"I found it!"

All heads turned towards the voice, finding Harley at the end of the hallway. She was pointing to her left, their right—so stage left for uncultured swines. "C'mon, ya slowpokes! Pick it up!"

"About time," Two-Face grumbled as he began to pick up his pace.

Of course, that was when Croc came to a dead stop. "Something ain't right about this," he continued. "I don't like this."

"Oh, will you not be a sour puss about this?" the Joker told him. "We're about—"

That's when they appeared. At the opposite end of the corridor they were in, men dressed in black fatigues, helmets, and armed with machine guns appeared. The big, bold, white letters labeled them as SWAT. "Bravo, target's spotted," one of them said over a radio. "Section D, in the hallway over by the…"

Well, if the smell of aftershave and gun oil Croc was talking about wasn't them, then the Joker was guessing this was whom he was talking about. That was the last time he let a man with two faces tell him the obvious.

"Shit!" Two-Face hissed before he pulled out his handguns and opened fire. The SWAT guys pulled out of the hallways, taking cover behind the corner.

"Ya know, those little peashooters aren't going to last forever," Joker remarked as he watched the fireworks, Scarecrow hurrying down towards Harley, and Croc just standing there looking all menacing.

"And we weren't expecting SWAT!" Two-Face shouted back. "Otherwise I would have brought the Tommy gun!"

Ah, so they were lacking some serious firepower. Well, that was going to make this messy and not in a good way. But! Never let it be said that the Joker couldn't roll with the punches. Lord knows he leaned to do that after all the ones Batsy had given him. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a grenade and held it out to Croc. "Here ya go, Croc."

Dumbly, Croc took the grenade, holding it dumbfoundedly. Yeah, that wasn't going to do. So the Joker pulled the pin out of it, ya know, to get the leather wallet to do what came natural.

"Ya want me to throw it?" Croc asked as he looked the grenade over. The moment he caught sight of a joker face painted on the explosive, he let out a "Gaaaahhh!" Immediately, he threw it down the hallway and thankfully towards the SWAT guys.

As it happened, the two men popped out of their hiding place and began to fire. The grenade hit one of the men in the chest, knocking the wind out of him before a cloud of green gas suddenly exploded where they stood. They were quickly enveloped in the gas, peals of laughter suddenly beginning, growing louder with every passing second.

It was music to the Joker's ears.

"What the hell were you trying to do?!" Croc demanded as he spun around to glare down at the pale man. "You trying to get me killed?!"

"Only if you weren't smart enough to throw a little gas bomb," the green-haired man told him. "Survival of the fittest, my friend, and you passed the test. Two-Face, thank the lug for not killing you both."

"Pull that stunt again and I'll put two between your eyes," the scarred man growled.

Hmph, you just couldn't win with some people. Spinning around, Joker sauntered down the hallway, the two men glaring daggers at his back as they followed. Reaching Harley and Scarecrow, they turned to find the door to the contamination room just a few steps away. Right next to it was a panel with a card reader and keypad, clearly the lock that kept them out of the room. Perfect! Now all they had to do was open it!

"Harley, if you wouldn't mind doing the honors," the Clown Prince of Crime said.

"Righty-o, Mr J!" the girl responded, slipping out a keycard from the pom around her wrist. She skipped to the card reader and keypad and swiped the card through the reader.

"There they are!"

Oh, great, more SWAT guys. Joker looked over his shoulder and found, not two, but three more of those trigger-happy tough guys coming around a corner further down the hallway, past the one his happy troop of misfits had used. Trigger-happy apparently was right as they immediately opened fire on their little group, bullets hitting all over the walls and door.

"Gah!" Croc exclaimed before he dove back into the intersecting hallway, Two-Face joining him not a moment too soon. That just left the two clowns and a scarecrow to brave the bullets.

The Joker had a feeling that wasn't going to end well for them.

"Harley, if you would?"

"But I gotta open the door…" she protested.

"And if you don't do something about those police officers, we're all going to die. NOW DO SOMETHING, YOU TWIT!"

"Right! Right!" the girl shouted as she pulled out a very large handgun. Heh, what a funny gal. Taking aim down the hallway, she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth before firing.

Out came a boxing glove, one that flew down the hallway towards the SWAT guys. However, her aim was a little off as the glove ended up hitting the wall just in front of them.

However, that's when things got interesting. The boxing glove ricocheted off of the wall, crossing over to the one opposite, then darted up to the ceiling. From there, it went down to the floor, back to the wall, and then right into the side of the face of one of the SWAT guys.

"Ahhhh!" the man cried out as he crashed into the wall. "Take cover!" another shouted as the other two dove back around the corner, leaving their stunned compatriot the last man standing.

By then, Two-Face had reloaded and opened fire again. His bullets struck the dazed officer, causing him to cry out as he dropped to the floor.

"Alright, wasn't expecting that," the Joker admitted. "Nice shot, Harle."

"Thanks, Mr J!"

"Now, be a dear and open the door. Blood is not a good color on me, especially my own."

Harley, the good girl, spun around and immediately got back to unlocking the door. "Johnny Boy," the green-haired man called out then. "See if you can't give those boys a piece of their minds, preferably the frightened pieces."

"Y-yes, of course," Scarecrow responded, getting his own nerves back. So the doc was afraid of bullets. How normal of him. As the burlap-wearing guy went to take care of business, Joker turned back to Harley, just as she punched in the last digit of the code and the door unlocked.

"Eureka! Our destiny awaits!" the clown announced. "Croc! Open this heavy door! Put those muscles to use!"

Croc hurried up to him, though he grumbled the whole way. "—damn bossing around. Better be careful I don't rip yer damn throat out."

"You know, if you want to stay and get shot, I think SWAT will be pretty accommodating," he reminded the walking crocodile man. He wasn't in the mood for dissatisfied employees. There wasn't much of a severance package outside of literally severing off body parts. Reaching the door, Croc grabbed the large door and forced it open.

Naturally that's when there were the screams of frightened men. Looked like Johnny Boy took care of business. Onward then into the room of contaminated waste!

Walking in, soon all five of them were in, keeping the door open ajar. They were going to be leaving in a hurry and there was no point in slowing that down by having to unlock the door again. The first place they entered was a room for donning the appropriate equipment to protect from spillage. The Joker just walked by it all, ignoring it all as he headed for the next door and opened it.

Beyond that was another room, this one filled with canisters filled with the symbol for biohazard on them. This was the place he wanted; now he just had to find the right canisters.

Perusing them as if he were shopping for groceries, the Joker weaved his way around the canisters, searching, searching for the ones he wanted. "How long is this going to take, Clown?" Two-Face asked from the door. "We can't stay here forever with SWAT running around."

"Patience, Harv," he blandly responded. "No sense in rushing when we need the right—there they are!"

The Joker came to stand next to four canisters, each one looking exactly like all of the others ones. You would have to be crazy to think there was a difference between them and the others, but that was where he had a leg up on just about everyone. His crazy just knew he had the right canisters. "Alright, everyone, grab a canister, and by everyone I mean Croc."

"Why am I the one that has to carry everything?" the crocodile man grumbled.

"Would you rather be a meat shield for SWAT's bullets? Because I'd be willing to make that trade."

"You might have to," Two-Face said as he peered out of the door. "SWAT is here in full force and they don't look like they're going to be taking prisoners."

"You are bulletproof, right Mr. Jones?" Scarecrow asked.

Croc gave the short man a dirty look. "Just because I have scales don't mean I'm immune to bullets."

Well, that was...disappointing. Apparently those scales were for show. "I believe we find ourselves in a predicament, gentlemen," the Joker said.

"Ahem."

"Oh, and Harley."

"Joker and other inmates!" a voice shouted. "Give yourselves up, or we will fire. This is your only warning!"

"They're not playing around, are they?" The Joker's eyes glazed over as he considered the situation. Admittingly, he hadn't expected the cops to show. That they weren't taking too many risks wasn't surprisingly, considering his reputation. He would put a bullet in him too if he were in their shoes.

How to get out of this…

"Well, what's the plan, Clown?" Two-Face demanded. "We're all out of time."

A grin appeared on the Joker's face. "Why not give them what they want?"