Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC Comics.

A/N: Thanks to Scorp for helping edit her own gift-fic. lol. Hope you enjoy!

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Alfred Pennyworth yawned and stretched in his hammock, and sipped his morning tea. It was another gorgeous, sunny day in Cartagena. The sun glinted off the impossibly blue ocean, and a warm breeze flitted through the tips of the palm trees.

It was no luxury hotel, but the brightly colored lime-green hospedaje was comfortable enough. And the location was impeccable as well, with soft white sand on three sides and the front of the building extending on pillars over the ocean. Yes, this was what many would consider to be paradise.

"Hey, mister, do you want to see me feed the sharks?" Tomás asked, hauling a pail of fish scraps from the kitchen.

"Sure, why not?" Alfred replied. He was already here, he might as well see as many sights as possible. And sharks were rather uncommon in Gotham.

Tomás lifted the bucket up to the railing and poured the contents into the ocean. Almost instantly, a shiver of sharks materialized. "When you start feeding them, it starts a frenzy," he explained.

"Indeed." Alfred watched as the sharks rose up out of the water, gnashing their teeth and grasping at any bit of fish they could find. Such insatiable appetites reminded him of breakfast time at Wayne Manor.

I wonder how Master Bruce and the others are getting along, Alfred thought with a slight twinge of guilt.

When Bruce woke up the next morning, he realized he still smelled like the inside of a septic tank. "Gross," he mumbled, "why didn't Alfred…. oh, right." The billionaire got up to go shave, then found all his razors had mysteriously disappeared. He'd have to talk to Damian later about asking permission before using household items to create weapons.

As he went out in to the hallway, he could smell burning food and screaming voices from the kitchen. "Great." Five more days of hell, and then Alfred was getting a renegotiated salary that paid an obscene amount of overtime in lieu of vacation time. He walked towards the stairs, careful to avoid Damian's lego forts of death. He was just about to finish walking down the stairs, when he felt his feet yanked out from under him, and was swinging from a rope that tied his legs to the chandelier.

"Damian! What is the meaning of this?" Bruce thundered.

Damian sulked into the room, munching a burnt Pop Tart. "You fell for the snare, father. I'm disappointed."

Bruce felt a vein popping out on his forehead. "Why was there a snare on my staircase?"

"To help you practice trap evasion and dexterity of course."

Bruce doubled up, untied the knot and jumped down. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't need practice when I'm getting ready for work." At this rate he was going to be late, and as much as Bruce kept up his playboy image, he had an important meeting at nine-thirty.

"But father, if you never expect anything unexpected in the mornings, what will happen when Ninja Assassins kidnap you before breakfast?"

He ruffled Damian's hair and grinned. "I'll tell them to take you instead."

Damian crossed his arms and scowled up at Bruce.

Bruce decided since Damian hadn't tried to murder him in his sleep yet, maybe he was making progress with his son.

Then he remembered that he was almost late for work and hurried into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

Dick looked up from the cloud of black smoke that was currently spewing forth from the oven. "We're out of milk, eggs, and uh, pretty much everything else. So I made Pop Tarts."

"And he burnt them too," Damian said, sauntering into the kitchen and crunching on his crisp tart.

Bruce scratched his chin and looked at the giant mess. "I thought Alfred was going to leave some prepped meals."

"He did, but Damian ate them all already," Tim griped.

"Don't blame me, Drake! You ate them too!"

"Just because I knew you'd eat them all unless I ate a few while I had the chance!"

"So that's where all the food went," Dick muttered and scowled.

"Stop arguing and just go grocery shopping." Bruce picked up a blackened Death Tart on his way out the door. "How do you manage to burn Pop Tarts anyway?"

"Well, I had a lot of distractions," Dick huffed.

"Don't blame us for your inattentiveness, Grayson."

"Shut up Damian." Tim threw a smoldering Pop Tart at him. "Why don't you stop griping and go practice, you definitely need it."

Damian turned up his nose "Useless, you're all useless." He paused in thought. "Well, Grayson is at least tolerable some of the time. I told father he should have gotten rid of Drake, but he didn't listen."

Tim rolled his eyes. "All right, Your Highness, who are you going to royally command to go grocery shopping?"

Dick sighed and searched for the keys to one of the normal cars. It was going to be a long day.

Bruce was late to work. Not that it mattered, really, he was the playboy CEO of Wayne Enterprises, he could probably come to work in his bathrobe and no one would care. Still, it made for good impressions to be punctual with business partners. Bruce groaned, straightened his tie, and hoped that Franklin Ross was a patient man.

He passed his secretary on the way down the hall. "Hey, Betty, is Mr. Ross waiting in the conference room?"

Betty stared at him for a moment. "Oh Mr. Wayne, I guess you haven't seen the news yet."

"The news?"

"Yes, it's all over Gotham. Mr. Ross was kidnapped by the Joker last night. Apparently Batman was busy somewhere else last night, and the Joker went unchallenged."

"I guess I should pay more attention to current events."

Betty rounded the corner, and pointed to the conference room, where a television was turned on and a few employees were watching. "Here, it's turned on in the conference room. The Joker is going to make another broadcast any minute."

Bruce sat down, and felt a chill run down his spine as he heard the shrill, deranged cackling that only came from one person.

Across town on the top of Gotham's Giant Clock Tower, the Joker jumped up and down with glee as Harley secured Franklin Ross to the giant hour hand.

"How do you like this, Frankie?" The Joker asked as he twisted his mouth into a malicious parody of a smile. "You were always complaining about not having enough time, now you'll have exactly two hours. Two hours until your explosive finale. How's that for going out with a bang?"

"Enjoy the fresh air, Frankie," Harley said, and stepped back to survey her handiwork. "Hey Mr. J, what if Frankie wants-"

"Shut up Harley, this is my plan!" He backhanded her. "And when Batman finally figures out the joke, the real joke, it'll be too late. Those are the best jokes don't you think? Ones that take you by surprise."

"Of course, Mr. J," Harley said shakily, and wiped the blood off the side of her mouth.

"Yes, Joker always knows best." He winced and rubbed his temple. "He said I wouldn't notice any difference with the infection. Well, I have a headache from Hades, I think that's a difference. Harley! Where's my painkiller you were supposed to bring me?"

Harley stood up and saluted. "Just a minute Mr. J, I'll bring it right up."

The Joker grumbled and paced as he waited. "You just can't get good help these days, Frankie, can you?" He rubbed the side of his head again. "I swear I'm surrounded by lunatics." The he doubled over and began laughing hysterically.

Harley reappeared with a glass of water and a pill. "Here you go, Mr. J."

The Joker gulped down the glass, then promptly spewed it back out. "Harley! What did you put in my water?"

"N-nothing, Mr. J."

"How can it be nothing if I can't drink it? Wait, that kind of makes sense." The Joker seemed about to go off into hysterics again when noticed the beeping red light on the camera. "Never mind that, look at the camera, we're about to go live, Frankie."

Bruce watched as static filled the TV, then it cut to a scene of the Joker's giant grinning face. Red lips pulled back from yellowed teeth.

"Batman, as you can see (and I hope you're watching this, you lazy superhero), I'm here at the clock tower with our mutual friend Frankie. Well, actually he's not your friend yet since you decided to stand me up last night. Can you believe it? Me, the Joker, with a brilliantly funny and fiendishly devious plot, passed up for some plant bimbo-"

"I think Ivy's fun," Harley piped in.

"No one cares what you think, Harley." The Joker's face turned into a paroxysm of rage. "It's Frankie's big day on TV, and here you are trying to make it all about you. Well if that's the way you want it." The Joker paused then deliberately kicked Harley off the side of the building.

"As I was saying, Batsy, before we were so rudely interrupted, you have until our friend Frankie here moves up to the twelve. Then he's going to make an explosive impact on the city." The Joker laughed hysterically and the video feed cut out.