Miho and I made our way up to the apartment rooftops. There was a cluster of them, lined up in various states of decay as if the city government built the buildings hastily and with as many as possible in one small area, then left. It was a desolate landscape of wood and concrete. Joker stood at the far end of one roof. He had a stick with a handkerchief wrapped around the end flung over his shoulder. He held his thumb out to the skyline, "Damn balloon's late," he cackled, "Guess I'll have to hitch a ride." In the distance, I could make out the form of a large hot air balloon rising in the distance through a cloud of dark smog. "Oh wait, there it is," Joker laughed. A moment later, the balloon erupted in a ball of flames and what was left came crashing to the ground below. McCarthy apparently did his part. "And now, there it isn't!," he dropped his stick and turned to us, "Well drats, curses, and all that. Looks like I've been foiled again."
Miho and I looked at one another. I had her loyalty and somehow, she had mine. We nodded in unison and made our move. Joker gave us that arrogant sneer he always gets. The kind that makes me want to put my fist down his throat, reach all the way down, and rip his heart out. He took the remote trigger from his pocket, making sure we saw it before he hit the detonation button. We both darted in opposite directions with the fleeting idea that we might make it.
The explosions were everywhere. All of the roofs were apparently rigged with small explosives. The sound was deafening, rising up in a climatic roar of white noise that suddenly popped in my ears, replaced by a thin whine. Flames and debris flew all around me and I was a leaf in a tornado. The air was hot, smoke filled my lungs and my head throbbed painfully as the whine turned into a ring. I hit a warm roof with bits of gravel and burning wood falling beside me. It was caved in slightly, but luckily, it held firm. My eyesight was a blur but I could make out the spreading flames and billows of smoke. My legs were jello and I concentrated to ignore the ringing. Joker walked through the cloud of dark smoke with a magnum aimed squarely at me. There was no sign of Miho. I had no idea if she was alive and if so, what state she was in. I fought through the pain and stood up. Joker gave me a wink and pulled the trigger. As expected, a small flag popped out with the word "BANG!" printed in bright letters.
"You're running out of material, Joker," I told him even though I couldn't actually hear my own voice, "It's an old joke that lost its charm a long time ago. Humor isn't the only thing you should give up."
I couldn't hear his voice very well, but I read his lips, "Ah, but there's a new punch line."
He pulled the trigger again. The flagpole shot out of the gun, the plastic round tip bouncing off my throat. I coughed and fell to the ground. The ringing was beginning to subside enough that I could hear his footsteps nearby. I managed to prop myself up on my hands and knees before his steel toed shoe hit me in the jaw. I tumbled onto my back with Joker standing over me. He reached into his jacket one more time, "I wish I could've been a bit more theatrical about this, old bean," I could scarcely hear him say, "Amazing how this city brings out the worst in people, isn't it?," he placed a metal plate over his knuckles which had a joker playing card engraved on it. He hefted me up by my cowl and raised his fist, "It's a sad day when I get artistically lazy."
Behind him, I saw two pillars of smoke pull back like an opening scroll. Silent, deadly little Miho flew between them. Her kimono was torn and burnt, she had apparently lost her sword, but she still had one more weapon. She opened her palm with deadly precision. The throwing knife shot out like a missile while Joker still had his fist drawn. Everything stopped. The ringing was no longer present as I could distinctly hear the sound of metal against metal. Joker blinked and looked at the back of his knuckles. The knife was hilt deep inside the plate. He turned his hand over and looked at his palm. Miho: you won't feel a thing unless she wants you to. The knife was protruding out of Joker's hand with a trail of blood dripping down.
"Heeeeey," he whined as he looked at the blood with dissatisfaction.
Miho's kick brought Joker to the ground.
My punch rendered him unconscious.
The second punch just felt good.
What was left of the rooftops were burning all around us. I had finally regained my strength while Joker laid at my feet. I looked down at him and then at Miho. Without saying it, she was telling me that she was giving me the kill. I had earned it in her eyes. "I never understood why you didn't just snap that bastard's neck," McCarthy's words came back to me. And what if I did? The only witness I had was a mute assassin that worked for hookers in Sin City. In a place like this, what would it matter? They'd congratulate me, if anything. It wasn't my world, so what did my ideals even mean? From somewhere, the city called to me. It screamed and begged for me to finally finish it while at the same time, it mocked me. It laughed and sneered at everything I ever stood or fought for.
In the distance, I could hear police sirens. McCarthy honked his horn in the street below. He had Chasity in the backseat, still sedated and tied up. She almost looked peaceful. This wasn't my world. I knew that. So why play be their rules? I slung Joker over my shoulder and got the Hell out of there.
As I left, I could hear the city growl angrily.