Rain lashed Joker's face as he ran through the evening streets of Gotham, getting into his eyes and making them sting. Turning a corner at a haphazard pace, he swiped a hand across his eyes to clear them, not caring if he smudged the oily make up on his face, smearing it. He didn't notice how his hand came away streaked with black and white, all his attention was focused on the signal in his head. Brighter and more reliable than the smashed Bat-signal above Gotham police headquarters, this one came from the very soul of the Batman, linking hero and villain by an invisible thread. All Joker had to do was follow it and he would have the Bat.
That damned Bat. He came to a halt beneath the harsh circle of light cast by a prematurely aflame street lamp and turned his face up to the sky, opening his mouth to drink in the contaminated rainwater. That Bat was always in his head, he couldn't be gotten rid of and now, just when Joker was ready to move onto new ventures, Batsy was talking in his head again.
The clown chuckled deeply, his tongue slithering out to clean his lips of rain drops. If fate wanted to push him and the Bat together again then very well, he would break the masked vigilante's mind; make them two crazies of a kind. What would fate think of that? Batsy wouldn't escape him this time.
Uttering a gleeful howl, a hound on the scent of its prey, Joker took off again. The street ahead of him thrummed with an energy he couldn't explain, leading him to the man he sought and it was infectious. He was starting to feel excited by this little excursion, starting to enjoy himself. How could he have forgotten the thrill of the chase? Laughing, he picked up the speed of his awkward lurching gait, thinking up innumerable ways of torturing the insanity out of his intended victim.
He caught himself humming 'I'm Singing in the Rain' in a low, creaky baritone and stopped once again, this time in amusement. A glance around told him that the wet street was deserted and he had all night to get to where he was going and just when would he get a chance like this again? With this in mind, he indulged in a few improvised dance steps, singing quietly to himself. All he needed now was a lamppost and a trilby hat and he could… he could… could…
The invisible thread he'd been following had been snapped. It was gone. Faltering, falling silent mid-song, he pressed a hand to the side of his head and concentrated. Nothing. Alone with his own thoughts, his head felt rather empty, like something vital was missing. He turned a slow circle, looking for the shimmering line of energy that had led him on, but there was nothing to be seen except rain and concrete.
"Please miss, can't Batsy come out and play?" the clown muttered distractedly. Of course, there was no answer.
"Look at me, I'm all dressed up with no one to kill," he continued, glancing down at himself and feeling the weight of the arsenal of weaponry concealed about his person. There was no way he could go back to his flat for a quiet evening in with the radio now. Thoughtfully licking his scars, he reached into his coat and pulled out a gun, idly spinning it in his gloved fingers. If he couldn't find old Bats, then he'd just have to lure the masked crime-fighter to him.
Another survey of the street informed Joker that light was spilling out onto the pavement from the windows of a store front. This was as good a place to vent some pent up aggression on as any, so he stalked towards it, humming under his breath once again. Wet hair plastered his face, obscuring his vision and he absently pushed it back with his gun hand. Now that he was closer he could see that the building, lit up like a homing beacon above a dark and stormy sea to guide weary travellers to the shore, was a travel agents. This brought a bitter smile to the clown's face.
Shadows flitted back and forth behind the large windows, there were still people inside, carrying out last minute tasks before they could finally close up and go home for the night. There was the silhouette of a woman perched on the edge of a desk as she sipped at a paper cup of coffee, a trick of the light distorting her and making her outline appear fantastically elongated. The shadow of a man, tall and looming, stopped briefly beside the apparition to lay a hand upon her shoulder. Joker stood in the gutter and watched the happy little scene for a few moments. Then he casually snapped open the cartridge of his gun to make sure it was fully loaded.
When the little bell above the travel agent's door gave a tinkle to announce a new customer, someone automatically spoke up "I'm sorry, we're just about to close." Then the woman holding the coffee cup, of normal proportions after all looked up and saw the smear-faced gun-toting horror standing in a puddle of his own dripping rainwater and she began to scream.
With an exaggerated wince at the sound, Joker placed one hand over his ear, whilst firing at the ceiling with the other. A small shower of plaster drifted down around him, the powder sticking to his wet clothes. His ears continued to ring from the gunshot, making it seem as though the woman still screamed even though she had ceased. Four pairs of eyes, round and glazed like marbles, stared fearfully at him from ashen faces. He broke into a bright, friendly grin.
"Why so serious?" he asked with a smile, glancing around at the frozen travel agents. Nobody answered, nobody even met his gaze. "Well? Isn't anybody going to offer me a hot drink? I've just walked across town in the pouring rain to have a little, ah, business talk with you people and not one of you is polite enough to offer me a drink." Still there was no response.
Shrugging philosophically, Joker primed his gun ready to fire again. This seemed to have the effect of breaking one young travel agent's paralysis. The man snatched the flimsy cup from the woman frozen with fear to the edge of her desk and rushed it forwards to the madman standing by the door. His hands shook terribly, almost spilling the steaming liquid all over himself. Joker relieved the man of the half-empty cup, glanced into its murky depths and then flung it nonchalantly against the wall. The employee cringed.
"Whatever happened to service with a smile?" Reaching out, the clown lightly cupped the other man's face in a gloved hand. He could see in the other's eyes that the rest of the world had ceased to exist and he relished this as much as the man's whimper and the sickly smile that made his thin face look as though it were about to burst into tears. All those special little emotions that have to be savoured… Having gotten his smile, Joker returned it politely and patted the man's cheek. "That's better. Now, what's your name?"
"St-st-st…"
The Joker rolled his eyes then made an elaborate show of checking the watch he wasn't wearing.
"Steve."
"Well, Steve, you see I have a little problem that I'd like you to help me out with. It's just a tiny, little problem, I'm sure you'll find a solution." The clown prince slung an arm around the travel agent's shoulders and led him over to a desk. A quick survey told him that no one was planning on any heroics; they all seemed to be locked in a state of shock, so he guided Steve down onto the chair and sat on the desk himself. Resting one foot on the plastic arm of the chair, he sat back in a relaxed pose and continued to talk, completely at ease.
"I haven't been having a very good time recently, life has been getting me down you know. So I thought to myself 'what do people usually do when they're feeling over-stressed?' Then the answer came to me – they go on vacation."
"You've come to the right place," Steve seemed to feel compelled to chip in.
Joker glanced at the man disdainfully. "Please don't interrupt me when I'm talking." Cocking the gun, he casually pressed the muzzle up against Steve's sweating forehead. The man's skin had gone a peculiar shade of grey, tinged with green. Joker very much hoped that Steve wasn't planning on passing out before he had heard what the criminal had to say. He paused a moment, licking his lips as he tried to pick up the lost thread of his conversation.
"I thought maybe a little trip to Hawaii would be good, I could work on my tan. So I got all ready and packed and then…" he paused significantly, leaning in close to the other man with a frown on his face, "then the little voice in my head decides to speak up and ruin all my plans. Not just any voice, one particular voice, I'm sure you'd recognise it if you heard it, but I can't go on vacation until that voice is silenced good and proper.
And that's where you come in, Steve." Noticing suddenly that the travel agent had some of Joker's own make up smeared on his cheek, the clown reached forwards to diligently wipe it off, accidently extending the mark. Steve flinched in alarm, his eyes fluttering up to the whites before he was able to regain full mastery consciousness. Joker smiled reassuringly and the man nearly fainted again.
"If I can't get out of town until I have this little, hm-m, mess cleaned up," the criminal continued unperturbed, "then nobody is allowed out of town. You and the rest of your travel agents are to prevent anyone from leaving Gotham. I don't care how you do it, book whole flights for the Invisible Man, kill all of the pilots, whatever it takes to get it done. Oh," he leant in closer, glancing up at the security camera that had been recording him since he'd stepped into the room, "and if I find out that anyone, just one person, has made it out, even if they've been carried over the border on the back of a donkey, then I shall kill you and everyone you've ever cared about."
Sitting back reflectively, Joker thought that last line may have been a little trite and melodramatic. He glanced around at the other travel agents in order to gage their reactions, but their faces were all blank with horror so there was no help to be had from them. A slight pause told him that the Batman wouldn't be chipping in with a critique either. But never mind, life went on. Lazily, he put away his gun and then searched the pockets in the lining of his coat for a different weapon.
"Hey, Steve… you wanna know how I got these scars?"
There was no reply. Puzzled, Joker looked up only to find that Steve had fainted dead away.