Hello everybody! CJzilla here with another chapter.

In this chapter, Black Mask's plans are set into motion as Joker is running free through Gotham. The Harlequin of Hate has a new scheme for the city, unawares of what has been done to him. Enjoy.

As I tear up this town, alls CJzilla has to roar is this: Love, hate... review.

I own no quote of Thedor Adorno

"He who has laughter on his side has no need of proof."
Theodor Adorno

Chapter 4

Begin

"One new message."

Roman Sionis felt his expensive mobile phone vibrate in his chest pocket. Seated in his newest penthouse office, cleverly hidden in one of his allies' business buildings, the criminal overlord known as Black Mask looked down from the window. Putting a hand in his pocket, the masked crime boss retrieved his phone. Opening up his inbox that was directly linked to his e-mail, Black Mask hungrily read the newest message.

Task completed. Inmate number 230D1 infected.

From under his skull-like ebony mask, Roman grinned as he eagerly typed in a reply.

Grand. Has Joker been released?

Black Mask thoroughly enjoyed the godlike power of being a crime boss. With but an e-mail, he could turn Gotham on its ear. And as his current plan unfolded, Black Mask would watch the Batman hopelessly scramble to stop it.

Joker is a chaotic villain, meaning that he took pleasure in creating misery and mayhem for no discernable reason. Such an unpredictable wild card presented a challenge for the Dark Knight. And with the NoiGon toxin administered in the Harlequin of Hate, Joker was now a walking contagion. If the Batman didn't locate the psychotic harlequin and find a cure within the next twenty four hours, Gotham would be infected and thusly… destroyed.

Affirmative. Joker taken into city and freed. The toxin is mobile.

Black Mask let out a laugh. Perfect! Joker would soon succumb to the poison. As soon as the harlequin took his last breath, the toxin would then leave his corpse and become airborne. Carried in the air, it was only a matter of time before someone else was infected. Then a chain reaction would happen and Gotham would be wiped off the map. Black Mask was not worried, however; the poison was to just buy his latest scheme time.

Good work. Keep silent until you are contacted next.

Sitting back in his plush chair, Black Mask enjoyed watching the night give way into the morning twilight. Let criminal mayhem and the count down… begin. Flipping his phone to his ear, Roman Sionis placed a call. He listened to the other end ring once before his call was answered.

"Yes, Black Mask?" A female voice came to his ear.

"Activate a fake bank account. Be sure to leave my fingerprints all over it…" Black Mask barked. "And I want you and a few henchmen pay a visit to one of my warehouses. I expect the Batman to call on my organization. Further instructions will be given as you, Number One. But pack light."

"Yes, sir." Number One acknowledged. Black Mask dropped the call without a goodbye.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, the crime boss snickered. That will give the Batman something to chew on. Getting up, Sionis again walked to the window. The man looked down at the front of City Hall. In the building's courtyard lie unopened crates filled with choice building materials. Gotham City was preparing to host a summit. Both Gotham's and Metropolis' greatest minds were to converge inside City Hall. What were over a dozen eggheads discussing at this overly-publicized assembly? Two words… Crime Control. Sionis scowled lightly.

Sionis and his crime syndicate were not taking this summit lightly. It was insulting to the crime boss. So Black Mask was going to make sure that this meeting failed to do much against his criminal indulgences. Namely… a wanton massacre just to show the world that Black Mask will never be silenced.

Folding his hands behind his back, Sionis caught one last glimpse of City Hall before the sun bathed Gotham in a warm golden glow.

Joker collapsed in the shadows of a filthy alleyway. His senses were still churning. The pale harlequin sat up and rested against the cool tin of a warehouse building. At least he knew where he was. Joker held his eyes to the ground between his legs; if he was to look up and see the amber morning sky twist again, he'd vomit. Shaking his head, the insane clown tried to clear his vision. At least his brain still worked.

It all began at Arkham! Joker bet there was more than antibiotics in that needle that the snidely orderly Splash stuck him with. So… he was drugged and hauled out of the asylum. The question right now was… why? To be honest, Joker was aiming to bust out soon anyway. He'd never think the asylum's staff would give him a ride out.

"Mmmm... Funny." The harlequin chuckled, tilting his head upwards again. The sky was not roiling as bad as it once was; his mind was clear enough to walk.

Getting to his feet, Joker rambled to the front door of the deserted warehouse. Twisting the doorknob, he found it was locked. Raising his heel to the doorknob, the harlequin broke it off with a single kick. The brass doorknob chimed as it hit the concrete and was picked up as Joker entered his hideout. It was just as he left it…

The Harlequin of Hate had hideaways like this all over Gotham; the police rarely ever found them to correctly dispose of all the giggle-based paraphernalia. Though the building was dark, Joker could make out where everything was. Among the many pilfered crates from various local novelty stores, there were gigantic teddy bears, jack-in-the-boxes and marred masks. Joker felt his mouth spread into a grin. Nothing like seeing his gloriously twisted madness again after spending two long weeks inside Arkham.

He staggered through the building, playfully juggling the doorknob as he groped the darkness. Joker's hand soon met something he was familiar with. Running his touch down the smooth plastic, he grasped the knob and turned it.

"-just $19.99! But wait! If you call in the next five minuets, we will throw in this brand new mixing bowl! Absolutely free!" The old TV flickered and hissed, playing an infomercial. Joker didn't care what was on, he just smiled knowing that he was still stealing cable from the neighbors.

With the added light, the insane harlequin could now see things clearer. Walking slowly over to a work bench, he pulled the switch of an overhanging lamp. With the deserted warehouse bathed in new light, Joker steadied himself on his work bench. He was wobbly but the super criminal dismissed it. He was free and he had all the time in the world to concoct another plan for Gotham City.

"Arkham is quite the muse." Joker giggled to himself, sweeping off junk from the table. "And I am inspired! Inspired to save lives! I will bring laughter to the masses, one patient at a time."

Reaching into a crate, the clown pulled out a plastic stethoscope and costume doctor's coat. Joker gave a low chuckle, his plan coming together in his mind. He aimed to make good on his comment to those crooked officers at Arkham Asylum. He was going to delve into the medical practice, Gotham City being his hospital and Gothamites being his patients. Joker let out a loud laugh as he began to put together his "healing" novelties. He'd get to play operation yet.

Little did Joker know that hidden by the numbness of his chemically induced haze was a toxin that was slowly spreading to the rest of his body. It was gradually seeping through every sinew and every tissue of his body, aided by the clown's poor health.

First the fever would attack his body before the violent muscle aches and spasms. The fever would grow to dangerous temperatures and eventually put him into unconsciousness. By that time, his high temperature would have killed off most of his brain tissue. Joker would stop breathing and suffocate. A trigger would then be flipped in the poison's chemistry. It would then leave Joker's body and bleed into the air. Anyone in contact with the contaminated atmosphere would become infected.

Bruce sat in a recliner, his aching eyes growing so heavy. This was part of his rehabilitation and he hated it. It was so dull not to mention uncomfortable. The chair, an expensive one at that, would massage Bruce's healing injuries, stimulating blood flow and reflexes. He considered this chair a tool of torture. Waves of movement from its pulsating massaging nodes would rub up against Bruce's battered body. It hurt, it was uncomfortable, it was unnecessary and would have been outlawed by the Geneva Convention under any other circumstances; at least in his mind.

Gritting his teeth, Bruce felt the chair finally touch his shattered leg. His limbs had all taken a beating a month and three weeks ago but his right leg was the worst. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and begrudgingly let the machine do its task. If he didn't sit through an entire "massage" session, Alfred wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

But then the TV suddenly powered on. And the sound of the Bat-Wave alert chirped. Bruce sighed in relief as he sprung out of the recliner.

"Saved." He grinned and limped toward the Bat Cave.

Once on his large super-computer, Bruce read the incoming crime alert. Black Mask had opened a phony bank account. How did Bruce know that? Because he'd been tracking and studying Roman Sionis for the better part of his criminal career. Sionis was too important of a crime boss to be so careless and this bank account was too boisterous to be real. Bruce sneered. This bank account was the equivalent of chumming the water for a shark; Black Mask knew that the Batman was going to investigate this.

"Well Sionis… if you want the Batman so bad, you will get your wish." Bruce rose from his chair and walked to the elevator. He'd get Dick and Alfred up.

Black Mask was no pushover and if this was a trap, which it most likely is, then the Batman would need his sidekick and trusted butler to watch his back.

"I smell a trap." Dick Greyson observed, thumbing the fabric of his glove. "And you know what tipped me off? It was the second we took a drive into the warehouse district."

It was early in the morning. Gotham was just beginning to stir. But the warehouse district, where forklifts, workers and big trucks would be moving to and fro, was empty. Bruce Wayne narrowed is eyes as he looked down at the Batmobile's console computer. The GPS was linked to the Bat Wave and was directing them towards the very last storage facility of the depot. And yes, for being one of the main commerce arteries of Gotham, it was a ghost town.

"And where's Batgirl? We need her for something this big!" Dick complained, rubbing his shoulder. Bruce's lips tightened.

"Batgirl called me last night. She explained that her father came down hard on her for being late. She's been grounded for the next week." Batman explained. Dick flinched. "Which is going to make us work a little harder without her."

Dick looked out the window.

"Poor Batgirl." He mumbled. "Back at the botanical gardens she told me that she's been under a lot of pressure. I guess being Barbara isn't helping the situation."

Bruce glanced at the boy.

"She needs to learn responsibility and time management." The man voiced. "She can't shirk her responsibilities to her father and expect to get away with it."

The teenager shot his mentor a glare.

"Hey! Barbara just needs to be cut some slack. It's not like she's not spending her time in the best possible way." Dick replied, his eyes narrowed behind his mask. Bruce sighed.

He made a mental note to give James Gordon a call and see if he couldn't ease the tension between him and his daughter.

Suddenly the Bat Wave chirped and the Batmobile pulled to a stop outside of a featureless warehouse. Bruce narrowed his eyes as he unbuckled from his seat.

"So what now? We go in, guns a-blazin'?" Dick pounded his fist in his hand. But his mentor had a different idea.

"We stroll in through the front door, Robin." Bruce said. The teenager experienced a rare moment of speechlessness.

"Oh… all right. I'm up for a stroll." He could tell Dick was sarcastic and frowning. "Can you at least pretend to care about a trap?"

Bruce pursed his lips as he opened the car door.

"I don't think it's a trap, Robin. It's not Black Mask's style to be obvious about traps." The capped crime fighter returned. The teenager sighed and nodded.

"OK. Following your lead, bossman." Dick said, hopping out of the Batmobile. Bruce rose from the car with aches and pains slowing him.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking on the Batman's part for saying that this was not a trap. Bruce didn't want to strain himself again with any activity. It hurt to breathe as it was. But sticking to his plan, the capped crusader walked up to the warehouse's door and laid a hand on the door handle. It wasn't locked and opened with ease. Narrowing his eyes, the Batman stood in the doorway, looking over the insides of the warehouse. The skylights allowed in as much morning light as possible yet there was a large overhanging lamp in the middle of the area. And standing under it was none other than Black Mask's Number One. But even in the heavy shadows, Bruce could make out 12 henchmen armed with batons.

"Still think this isn't a trap?" Robin quipped, quirking a brow. The Batman shook his head.

"It doesn't smell like a trap." He responded, eyes narrowed as he walked into the warehouse. Something was not right about this but instead of reaching for his weapons, Bruce walked toward Black Mask's head henchwoman.

The woman narrowed her only good eye, standing straight and poised even as the Batman and Robin neared her. They stood across from each other. But with a nod of her head, Number One called over another henchman. As commanded the solider approached his commander. He was holding a laptop. Without a word, she took it from the henchman's hands and opened it. The computer flicked on. With the tap of a few buttons, a web stream was established. Bruce was then looking into Black Mask's eyes through a webcam.

"Greeting Batman." Roman Sionis nodded, folding his hands. Bruce narrowed his eyes.

"What's this all about, Sionis?" He barked. The crime boss chuckled.

"It's not a trap, if that's what you're thinking, Batman." Black Mask responded. "Think of this as the beginning of a scavenger hunt… with the fate of Gotham being in your hands."

Robin growled.

"What did you do this time?" The boy growled, taking a step forward. The criminal's eyes trailed to the teenager and back to Batman's.

"I've been feeling the heel of your boot over my neck for quite some time Batman." Black Mask growled. "And frankly I've had enough of it. I've got some big plans coming up soon and I'd hate to have you interfering in them. So… I've set up a little project to keep you busy."

Then the man held up a vial of thick, orange liquid.

"This, Batman is a stolen experimental NoiGon product." The criminal continued. "It's a biological chemical that was originally intended to fight invasive species of animals. But it has other uses as well as a rather interesting reproductive method. Once a victim is infected, the poison will incubate, eating away nerve cells and vital organs. Once the feast has ran its course, the host dies and the chemical reacts to the falling internal temperature. It then seeps into the air only to find more hosts and start the cycle all over again… Get the picture?"

Bruce gritted his teeth. Black Mask tucked the chemical back into his suit coat.

"Poisoned the water system, have you Black Mask?" Robin hissed. "That's the oldest terrorist trick in the book!"

"Don't flatter yourself, you little boil." The crime boss shot back. "I have infected only one person. It only takes one infection to start the snowball effect. And that's what you're hobby is going to be for the next few days, Batman. The poison has a 48 hour incubation. Once those two days are up… well, the toxin will become infectious."

Stepping forward, Bruce balled his fists.

"This is low even for you, Sionis. What innocent person did you stick with such a horrible death?" To his surprise, Black Mask chuckled.

""Innocent" is a stretch, Batman." Sionis answered. "I was careful to choose the carrier. They had to be unpredictable, fast and able to match wits with you. That left only one true psycho. Joker."

Bruce jerked back in surprise.

"And as I've said before, Batman, this is just a hobby for you, to keep you distracted. I know that you'll succeed in catching this chemical before it's contagious. I'm buying myself some time, is all." Black Mask sat back in his chair and you could almost see the smug look on his face. "You have less than 48 hours to find and cure Joker before he succumbs to the poison. I recommend that you get a move on Batman."

With that, the criminal boss terminated the web transmission. Closing the laptop, Number One stood there watching the Batman and Robin speed towards their car. Black Mask's plan to keep his archenemy occupied was all ready working wonders.

"What a lowlife!" Dick hissed, buckling in as Bruce threw the Batmobile in reverse. "Resorting to poisoning? That's just sick."

Bruce scowled. The plan was as genius as it was desperate.

"We need to go to Arkham Asylum; Joker checked in just two weeks ago and I have not received any reports of him breaking out." He voiced, speeding out of the warehouse district.

"As bad as Joker was hurt, I'd say it'd be weeks before he'd be well enough to even think about busting out." Dick returned. He saw his mentor's eyes narrow significantly.

"I'd forgotten about his injuries. That means the toxin will have a head start on Joker's weakened body. We have even less time." Bruce gunned the engine of his custom vehicle.

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