Like all buildings of Gotham, the City Hall came with a back door which led to an alleyway, down which the Joker was strolling, covered in the assistant District Attorney's blood. Some of it had seeped into his left shoe which made an irritating soggy noise every time he took a step and left a trail of bloody footprints stretching back to the door. He looked up at the sky; it was still early. There was an annoying cooing of a pigeon somewhere to his right but he resisted the urge to silence it; there was important work to be done.
He glanced down at his clothes. He had to get changed before he did much else; blood seemed to be quite unbecoming to him, especially other people's. Withdrawing the deck, he flicked the top card off, glanced at it and placed it carefully back on the top before gently placing the deck back in his pocket. A number would be far easier to find than a picture would be.
A female cry for help drifted down the alley. Mildly curious, the Joker ambled towards the noise, enjoying the sound of her cries for mercy. He rounded a corner and saw them; a burly man with a shaved head and tattoos as far as the eye could see towering over a small mousey woman with a bloody face cowering on the ground. He casually leant against the wall and watched with amusement as the man raped and then killed her. It wasn't until he was going through her purse that he noticed the Joker standing there at all.
"Shit man! How long've you been there?" He urgently whispered, fear in his eyes.
The Joker sucked his teeth as he began to walk towards the thug. "Long enough," he said, pulling his knife out of his pocket as he approached. "I saw it all. And, you see," he paused as he watched in detached amusement as the thug begin to back away from him. "It wasn't very… friendly, what you just did then."
For some reason, the thug had not thought to run, but was instead trying to argue his way out of his current predicament. "Hey, come on. The bitch had it comin', look at her."
"No," the Joker drawled, shaking his head slowly. "Look, here's a lesson." At that point, the thug had decided to run for it. The Joker grinned, withdrawing the recruit's gun from his pocket, shooting the thug in the leg. He came down with a crash and a scream and, before he knew it, the Joker had straddled him, the blade of his knife stuck into the corner of the thug's mouth. "Now," he continued as if he had not been interrupted, "Harvey Dent, had it coming. He was too good. Rachel Dawes," he pouted, looking to the end of the alley. "She deserved it. She was irritating and tried to stop me," he said, carefully enunciating every word. "The mouse?" He pointed over at the dead woman with his free hand. "She didn't."
The thug mumbled something through the blade, completely incomprehensible but it didn't stop his talking. The Joker ignored it.
"What about you though?" He mused aloud. "Do you deserve it?" He smiled, drawing the blade through the thug's cheek, listening to his screams with ecstasy. He lifted the blade and brought it down through his throat. He leant forwards, staring into the thug's eyes. "You deserved that," he said solemnly.
With a jump, the Joker got off the thug and took a few steps backwards, withdrawing the deck of cards from his pocket. With a flick, he picked up the top card and threw it down towards the thug's unmoving hand. The thug's fingers tightened around the Six of Clubs as the Joker strolled away with a bounce in his step.