Gotham wasn't a nice place to live.

Blake understood that all too well. What he also knew, what most Gothamites knew, was that there was plenty of opportunity here as well. Life in Gotham could be very good if you weren't a moron and were willing to get your hands dirty.

Take Arkham for instance. It was chock full of freaks. That was literally what it had been built for. But being an orderly there was one of the better jobs you could have as long as you had a brain. It was easy work and paid well. The inmates also gave plenty of 'tips' if you were willing to do them a favor or two.

The creep in charge, Professor Strange, was the reason Blake got his job here. Blake had 'minor' sociopathic tendencies. Apparently that was a quality Arkham looked for in its orderlies. The Professor must be as nutty as the inmates if he thought that would end well. Even Blake knew that was crazy. But honestly? He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The 'reason' he'd been given was that his lack of empathy helped prevent the crazies from manipulating him. The clown had gotten his hooks in some therapist bitch a while back and everyone was still leery about it happening again.

Speaking of, some anonymous individual had sent a package to be delivered to the Joker. It arrived just a couple hours after he did, too. They paid Blake a huge stack of cash in exchange for bypassing the normal inspections. It looked like the Joker wasn't going to be staying very long this time.

Good. The clown was even creepier than usual. Joker hadn't laughed since they brought him in and it was freaking everyone out.

Blake liked doing stuff like this. The crazies here remembered when you did them favors. It was an easy way to make some cash and helped you avoid getting caught in their schemes or escape plans. And if Blake lost his job, he could join the gang of one of the inmates he'd been secretly helping. 'I helped you escape Arkham that one time' was a great thing to have on your resume.

Blake hid the package under the linens on his cart and strolled down the hall. He nodded to a pair of guards as he passed them. They ignored him, just like always. Most people who worked here for longer than a few months were too jaded to be a problem. Some of them wouldn't even report their keycard missing for an hour, at least as long as they got it back and there were a couple of hundreds where the card usually was.

It took less than thirty seconds for Blake to stop and slide the package through the slot. He didn't meet Joker's eyes, he just closed it up and moved on. He did leave at a faster walk, but he made sure not to run. The clown scared him, and he didn't want to be around him any longer than he needed to.

Joker's smile twitched, plastic and fake. His plan had failed. No, not just failed... It had been ruined.

They knew.

At first, everything had gone off without a hitch. He'd shot Gordon's daughter, right in front of the man too. It was a shame he hadn't been able to take his time making it ...sink in, but the distraction he'd set up for Batsy wasn't going to buy much time and he'd needed to get the stage set properly.

Poor, poor Jimmy had been so upset when he'd seen the pictures. He hadn't broken before Batsy rescued him, but that was fine. Sometimes you only get the punchline long after you'd heard the joke. Once the Commissioner went home to his empty house… Well, then he'd see the funny side.

But then brat showed up and ruined things.

...How had he known?

Bats didn't break. Gordon didn't break. That kid...

He'd need to do something bigger as soon as he got out. Everyone needed to know that Joker wasn't… He was…

That kid would be first.

The rattle of a laundry cart distracted him from his scheming.

It was whatshisface. One of the more cooperative orderlies. He was useful, although the guy never smiled. If Joker was still in a bad mood the next time he escaped he might fix that.

They had to remember… He'd remind them...

The package whatshisface delivered was quite large. Normally it was something small, like a keycard, a spool of wire, a knife, or even a piece of paper with a date on it. Joker shrugged and grabbed it. He could use the distraction.

It was a cake. Written in icing were the words:

For an

Incarcerated

Lawless

Evildoer

The Joker's grin regained its spark. It seemed that someone had given him the opportunity to enact some sweet revenge. And they had a sense of humor too!

He jammed his hand into the center of the cake, smiling even wider when his fingers touched something metal just under the icing. He pulled a long steel file out of the cake. Tiny, malicious giggles echoed throughout his cell as he pulled up the tool and licked a bit of icing off it. As he did he saw something etched onto one side.

As the Joker raised the file to look closer, a small piece of metal popped free of the cake with a pinging sound and hung from a length of fishing line tied to the file's handle.

It took the Clown Prince of Crime a fraction of a second to recognize the cake covered ring as a pin from a grenade. His eyes flicked back to the file, and he saw the word 'Assume' written on it, with the 'me' scratched out.

He barely had started laughing when his world exploded.