Title: In the Eye of the Hurricane – Chapter three
Characters: Joker, Scarecrow/Crane and the Riddler. Batman will be mentioned (and will make appearances) as the story progresses, though he isn't the focus of the story.
Rating: Pg-17 (if such a thing exists)
Timeframe: follows after the second movie
Warnings: violence, obvious insanity and the death of innocent (or not-so-innocent) bystanders...after all, this is about the Joker...
Disclaimer: I'm not making a profit off of this—nor do I have the desire to either. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox.
Summary: It's true what they say. Sanity can only last so long...

Apparently, you're supposed to stop at a red light.

The Joker shrugs it off as a learning experience but Crane is somewhat miffed when a police cruiser pulls in behind them after the third intersection. It's fairly late, traffic's non-existent and there's a remarkable lack of people on the streets. They're all gone. Somewhere. Maybe the Riddler has them scared stiff—what, with his 'death and destruction' and all...

Yeah right.

Something's up.

"Hey, Chuckles, we're going to make a quick pit stop."

Crane stares at him through the reflection of the rear-view mirror and it takes only a moment for the message to sink. He glances quickly over his shoulder at the cop in pursuit and has all of ten seconds to scramble into the front passenger seat before the Joker slams on the breaks.

The back glass shatters. Something went flying when they made contact and he's betting that's why Crane moved to the front. They skid through the fourth intersection, police cruiser pressed into them like a crushed soda can, before rolling to a sickly halt—all sparks and screeching metal. That's why he likes some of these old rusty cars. Good frame. Tough enough to kill a moose.

Crane's airbag deployed. His didn't. He pats the dashboard affectionately before shouldering his door open, taking a moment to smooth down his straightjacket as he steps over to the cruiser. It's then that he spots the other car behind it. Bent the cruiser all to hell. Looks like a scene from a cool action movie.

The cop looks a little...worse for wear, all bloody and whatnot, but the guy behind him looks much better. The man shoves open his door and stumbles out onto wobbly feet, makes a move to see if the cop's alright before he spots the Joker and hightails out of there instead.

"I take it we interrupted his game."

The Joker licks his lips; watches the man run toward the sidewalk before darting around the corner. "I think GPD needs to, uh, lighten up a little. The more, the merrier, you know?"

Because it really is a no-brainer—the Bat solved a riddle, told the commissioner where to expect the next attack and good old Gordon sent his toy soldiers to block all the exits. That explains the cruiser, the stray driver and the lack of all other life forms. But what could it hurt to have a few extra players? The Joker's betting he could solve the riddles too if the anchorman bothered to broadcast a couple of them.

"He's fairly confident in himself to be leaving so many clues," Crane wonders aloud, the doctor inside him just vocalizing old thoughts, "unless, of course, there's something else compelling him..."

Maybe. Maybe not. The Joker has to admit—he likes a guy with an air of mystery. It's not as challenging when you know how to read them.

Then he sees a young couple.

A guy and his gal, a petite blonde leaning heavily against his lean frame. He's laughing quietly about some joke and she's snickering, obviously intoxicated. The young man has his arm around her shoulders, leading her to a bench by the nearest bus stop, acting the part of the perfect gentleman...

It helps that he's wearing the green.

"That," he says, making sure to put emphasis on the word as he points at the man in question, "That there is unfair."

Crane frowns curiously, "How so?"

"I've been here longer. How did he get a side-chick before me?"

"She's intoxicated."

"Same difference."

Crane pauses, contemplating his argument. Then nods. He waits for the Joker to lead the way as the Riddler sits the woman down on the bench next to him, trying to help her keep her head up. He's a good looking young fellow, someone that probably could've made it far in the world if not for his obvious urge to play do-or-dare with the authorities (and their psycho pet rodent). It wouldn't be difficult for him to get a little cooperation from a horribly misguided lady.

"This is for him," the young man says, taking a folded piece of paper and placing it in the palm of her right hand. He has a walking cane, which he sets down beside her as he closes her fingers around the note. "He'll need it for the next riddle."

" 'kay, hon..."

He smiles kindly at her, leans back and stretches his arms out to rest his elbows on the back of the bench. Crossing his legs, he tilts his head slightly forward to scrutinize the pair approaching him from under the shade of his green hat. "Let's start with something simple, shall we?"

"Go ahead," Crane replies.

" 'Alive without breath, as cold as death; never thirsty, ever drinking; all in mail never clinking.' What am I?"

"Is it considered cheating if I already know the answer to this one?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," he sighs, "The internet makes just about everything easily accessible."

"A fish."

The Riddler sighs again, taking his elbows off the bench to grab his cane. It has a black wood shaft and a gold cap. A gentleman's cane. "Scarecrow and Joker...what a surprise."

"Really?" the Joker asks as he rolls up the sleeves of his straightjacket and takes a seat on the other side of the Riddler, "And here I was hoping to awe you with my presence..."

"I'm speechless, really, but some things are just inevitable. From what I've heard, you've escaped the police several times before in the past."

"My, my, word does get around..."

"You're a native to Gotham, I take it?" Crane asks, weeding out whatever information he can. It always helps to get a little background on the guy you plan on rehabilitating.

The Riddler senses this. But he smirks (just a little) and answers anyway. "I am, but I was away when the Batman introduced himself to Gotham City..."

The Joker leans over and pats him on the knee amicably, "You know, it never hurts to make a new friend. Which makes me wonder, sweetheart, how did you happen to meet the Bat...?"

"How else? I broke into a bank."

The word 'broke' sets off the alarm bells inside his head. It's a clue. And it's a good one.

The Riddler's really not a big bad wolf.

Not yet, anyway.

Crane smiles, "And you didn't rob it because...?"

"Because it'd be a waste of time and resources—you, on the other hand,would do it just to get a reaction out of everyone. Wouldn't you?" The Riddler lifts the end of his cane and stares at the gold cap. It's then that the Joker notices the small question mark engraved on it. "Besides...if I was ever compelled to steal anything, I think, maybe, it would be art..."

Crane opens his mouth to ask another questions but he's cut short by an ominous roar in the distance. That, the Joker supposes, is the Bat-automobile...Bat-o-bile...Bat-mo-bile...

He likes that last one the best.

The Joker stretches, half tempted to just sit there and wait for the man in black, but they have places to go and the cops are going to get restless soon. The Joker knows they're watching, the chick probably being the only one that doesn't know about them yet. They're lurking in the alleyways, like rats...

They're greedy.

Why catch three villains when you can wait five minutes and get the supposedly tainted vigilante as well?

"As much as I enjoy a challenge, I'm afraid I'm something of a featherweight in the Batman's category," the Riddler murmurs quietly, lifting the other end of his cane to aim at the nearest stoplight, "Now, if you'll please excuse me, I need to finish the preparations for tomorrow's heist."

He presses down on the gold cap and there's a swift whistling noise before the stoplight bursts, sparks raining down onto the crushed vehicles below. One of the sparks ignites something in the light and blue smoke rises from the ruins.

Gas bullets.

Nifty.

"Can I get your number?" The Joker asks, laying the humour on a little thick as the Riddler stands, cane in hand, straightening his jacket, "I must see you again, darling."

"No, but I'm pretty sure you're more than capable of finding me on your own within the next couple of days. And if not—" he tips his hat first to him and then to Crane before taking a step down the street, away from the dark cloud descending upon them and into the madness of the night, "—then it's goodnight, gentlemen!"

He has to appreciate a man with class but he really doesn't have the time to sit around and ponder the Riddler's true intentions. He's not evil in the heavier sense of the word. No. Not at all. Deviant, perhaps, but the poor misguided boy is walking the finer line toward landing himself in a mental institution, one that might actually cure him. It's a line the Joker looks forward to shoving him off of. Gotham doesn't need any more lost souls. It needs men with knives and explosives—and if the cane is anything to judge by, then the kid just might find himself enjoying the simpler pleasures provided by good old fashioned detonators.

The intersection is flooded with the Riddler's smoke, twin lights breaking through the darkness to illuminate the bench.

That would be the Bat.

The Joker laughs. He jumps to his feet and grabs Crane by the wrist before darting off in the Riddler's direction. They can hear the Batman as his wha-cha-ma-call-it opens up and spits him out; hear him glide through the darkness to find the moaning girl. That's when the cops jump into action, lights flashing and sirens whining as they rush in to catch at least someone in the madness.

They're a little too late for that now.

The Joker plans on paying the Batman a visit but that can wait. Later. Just as soon as he and Crane complete their trio.

The Riddler's got something more than just a bat waiting for him in the wings.

And the Joker really does love his surprises...

A/N: Just on a side note, my mom nearly hit a moose once. You don't want to hit a moose. Your car (and you) will suffer dearly and the moose will walk away...

As for the Riddler's 'riddle', it was taken from the 'batbad' website (just google "riddler" and "batbad" together and it'll be the first site that pops up). I'm pretty sure the riddle can be found on several websites but that just happens to be where I discovered it.

Alright, thanks for putting up with my third chapter. If there's anything that needs changing, just throw me a stone, and I'm sorry if I seem to be interpreting the Riddler a little weird. In the comics, he wasn't as 'bad' as the other villains. Don't get me wrong—he`s a villain, alright. But that's because he let things get a little out of hand...