Victor Stedwick walked idly home, whistling to himself as he moved down the dark and dirty streets of Gotham's Crime Alley. Despite the districts infamous murder rate, Victor walked without fear, for he was a member of the African Army of Gotham- one of the most powerful street gangs in the city. People around here knew him as a man to respect, or at the very least, as someone not to be fucked with. The AAG tended to take brutal exception to any attacks on its members by other criminals- Rogues of course being the exception.
What Victor should have remembered was that in Gotham, being feared by criminals only removes half the danger.

With no warning, a red cloaked figure yanked him into a darkened alley, and slammed him against the wall. The black youth, who was one hundred and ninety pounds of muscle and hate, found himself being lifted into the air. Looking down, he noticed that the vigilante (he presumed) had done this with ONE HAND. Suddenly, it dawned on young Victor just how much trouble he was in. He looked at his assailant. Beneath the hood, a red mask covered the mans eyes, and his lean face was framed by long blonde hair. Some kind of old-timey armor covered the rest of him.

"I seek information, mortal" the masked man said, and his deep voice sounded like the very wrath of God "Know that I am Azrael, the avenger, and that the only thing that stays my righteous wrath is that need for information. Tell me what I wish to know, and I will be merciful."

Victor was a killer, a thief, a dealer and an occasional pimp. He was, in short, a predator, and predators react poorly to being afraid. Victor retreated into bluster, which was his second mistake. "Fuck you, white boy. I ain't gonna tell you shit!"

A wrist-mounted blade, a foot long, suddenly stabbed into a place on the wall about six inches away from Victor's face. With a WHOOSH the blade burst into flame, a white flame that stayed close to the metal but was so hot Victor was amazed the bricks didn't melt. Slowly, the masked man withdrew the blade, but kept it in the air

"That" Azrael said "was but a warning. I say again, sinner; I seek information. Someone has been poisoning the various narcotics that infect this city. You will tell me all that you know. Now."

Victor swallowed "I don't know anything. YAAAH!" He screamed, as the flaming blade stabbed into the wall again, this time only three inches away. Though the fire didn't touch him, he felt like he was burning anyway.

"Lies. I despise lies, and liars even moreso. Again, mortal, tell me what you know."

Victor knew now that this man was very serious indeed. "Okay, okay. Yeah, we know about that- my gang that is. We don't know who's doing it, though, or why. He gets into the stuff sometime before it comes off the…before we get it. Not just our stuff, neither. Word is, he's hitting everybody. The wops, the chinks, the Japs, even the Russians. That's all I know, I swear"

The flaming blade hovered in front of Victor's eyes now. "Everything?"

"I FUCKIN' SWEAR!!" Victor screamed, his eyes shut. Suddenly he felt himself drop to the pavement. He opened his eyes again to find himself alone. He ran home, and vowed to go to church more often. Somehow, that guy had given him a real BURNING interest in religion.

On a rooftop overlooking the alley, Robin sighed. "That's all he had?"

"Yes" Azrael said "He was but a lowly sinner, but he did confirm our previous findings, did he not?"

Robin snorted "Yeah, if you want to call them that. We know someone is poisoning the drugs before they leave the docks or airport or whatever. We know that that someone is hitting everyone's supplies- the Families, the Tongs, the Yakuza, the Ghost Dragons, the Mafiya… or at least, that's what he wants everyone to think. We know that the gangs are getting restless, and looking for someone to blame. All of which we either knew or suspected last night. After interrogating the high-ups in five major gangs, we don't know anymore than we did when we started."

Azrael shrugged "We knew this task would likely prove fruitless." The vigilante rechecked the fuel-lines for his wrist-blades. "The sinners know little, and tell less."

"Yeah, yeah. Still sucks, though. Next up, we'll go to Cubanos Locos territory and schedule an interview with someone in charge. I'll let you handle that one too- I just don't have your way with people" Launching their grapples, the two vigilantes swung away into the night.


Deep in the bowels of Arkham Asylum, Batman shook hands with Doctor Arkham. Despite the asylum's poor track record, the Dark Knight still respected the psychiatrist. He knew that the man had been handed an impossible task, and had done his best to fulfill it. The formalities done, they headed down into the subterranean level which housed Arkham's most dangerous patients.

"He just came back, all on his own?" Batman said, seeking confirmation. He always told himself that nothing the Joker did could shock or surprise him anymore, but the clown always managed to come up with new tricks.

Arkham nodded. "It's very strange, even for Patient J. At 9:27 PM yesterday, his cell was found empty- he'd crawled out through an airvent, we think. We alerted the authorities, and put the entire asylum in lockdown- we don't want anyone else getting the same idea. Then, at 6:35 this morning, he walked up to the front gate and politely asked the guard to open the door. He allowed himself to be led back to his cell with no trouble. He hasn't said a word since."

Batman grimaced. He knew what that meant; Joker was waiting for him to come. He cleared his face of all expression, and headed down the darkened corridor to the Maximum Security Wing. The hall was lined with thick, plexiglass windows, each of which revealed the cell of a different maniac.

Batman stalked past his many foes, oblivious to their taunts, threats and jeers. He'd heard it all so many times before, that it just washed over him. As always, he paused for a second in front of Harvey Dent's cell, and looked at his one-time friend. Twoface simply scowled back, and raised a finger in obscene greeting. The Dark Knight gave no response, and merely continued on his way.

The Joker's current cell was placed at the very end of the hall, for maximum visibility. One camera was devoted to monitoring this cell alone, and the glass was double the normal thickness. Yet, time and again the monster escaped, to bring chaos and death to the innocent. As he approached, Batman felt a pang of apprehension- he always did when he approached the Joker, because the clown was by far the most dangerous of all his enemies. In his heart, the Dark Knight had a suspicion that it would be the Joker who ended his career, one way or another.

Currently, the clown was standing unmoving in the middle of his cell, staring up at the security camera. His gaze never wavered, and his body was completely rigid. When Batman approached, the hateful harlequin instantly turned his head.

"Why hello, Batman! What a surprise! You almost never come to visit!" As usual, the Joker's voice was filled with dark glee.

"Why did you come back?"

The Joker shrugged, and resumed staring at the camera. "I'd done what I wanted to do"

Batman grit his teeth. Already, his mind was running through scenarios, imagining what the clown might have done. "What was that?"

"I saw The Producers."

That brought Batman up short. He'd escaped from Arkham for a musical? "Funny. Now the truth"

Instantly, the clown was in motion. He fell to his knees before his enemy and swung one arm over his eyes in a perfect tableau of betrayal "Oh, BATMAN! How COULD you? After all we've been through together, after all I've done foryou-and to you- how could you accuse me of lying?"

Batman was silent a moment, searching his memory. Then, he said "Mel Brooks was in town for last nights show wasn't he? He took the starring role that night."

The Joker leapt to his feet and burst into applause "KEE-RECT! Give the winged rat a prize! How could I not go give my own thanks to the man who has made me laugh so often?"

Oddly, Batman found this to be perfectly plausible. The Joker loved comedy, and had often expressed admiration for those he considered masters of the art. It was not outside the realm of possibility that the clown might escape purely to see one of those masters in person. "And then you came back, just because you were done"

The Joker's grin widened "Well, not exactly. You see, from now on, you and the bumblers who work here will never be quite sure if I've really escaped, or if I'm just out for a stroll. Oh, you'll make yourselves treat each time like a real escape, but deep down in your batty little heart you'll always wonder- you'll hope- that maybe I'm just at the movies. You'll never be sure, and that's even better than Mel Brooks."

Batman scowled slightly and turned to leave. He'd taken three steps when his enemy called out after him.

"Hey, Batsy! I'm not the one that's poisoning the deadheads, but I can tell you this: When you find the guy, you're going to feel so stupid! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA!!"