Coulrophobia
Batman Begins/Dark Knight meets Bones, inspired by Palgrave Goldenrod's Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before series of crossover fics. (read them, they're great!)
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When the call came through, Gordon thought he would be sick. The Joker and his psychotic crew had taken over another high profile social event. But during the mad dash to Wayne Tower, another call came through. The emergency over, and the Joker was dead.
A sergeant met him in front of Wayne Tower, opening the car door for the agitated commissioner. The sergeant looked rather cheerful.
"Right this way, sir. Lieutenant Winters is waiting for you upstairs," the man said as he led through the chaos of emergency services and reporters. The man actually whistled a jaunty tune as they went up the elevator to the top floor.
"Sergeant," warned Gordon.
"Sorry, sir. It's just that I'm so relieved that he's dead, you know? I promise I'll be dead serious when I'm anywhere near a TV camera, honest." Gordon, sighed, but he really couldn't find in his heart to fault the man.
The elevator doors opened onto a busy crime scene. The party guests were corralled at one end of the large room. Some of them were talking to police officers, others were being treated by paramedics for what seemed to be minor wounds and cuts. The rest of the room was taken up by the crew from the M.E.'s office and lab technicians in their crime suits. Gordon also noticed the bodies strewn about the floor. A photographer was taking pictures of the Joker, sprawled out in the center of the room. The Joker stared sightlessly at the ceiling, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead, another in his throat. One official detached herself from the crowd and walked over to the elevator. At least this woman wasn't whistling, thought Gordon.
"Commissioner, I'm Detective Olivia Winters. As you can see, the Joker and his gang are gone. Well, all but one. Six dead perps, one injured. No serious civilian injuries."
"How did this happen?"
"Well, sir, it started out like it usually does. This is a reception the Wayne Foundation is holding for," she paused as she looked at the papers in her hand, "people who advance the sciences. The Joker and his crew crashed the party about 8:50 this evening."
"What happened to the Foundation's security forces?" Gordon forced himself to ask.
"They're all right. The Joker totally bypassed security. No one knew he was in the building until he made his usual entrance. He grabbed Dr. Brennan, who was getting an award for," another pause as she looked at her papers again, "advancing scientific knowledge through fiction."
"Yes, yes," said Gordon impatiently, "but how does this explain this?", waving his hand towards the dead criminals.
"Dr. Brennan's plus-one is an off-duty F.B.I. agent," said Winters.
"I suppose the Joker wasn't expecting that," said Gordon.
"Yeah, or the fact that before he was with the Feds he was a sniper with the Army Rangers,"
"Then the Joker started with his whole "Why so serious" routine - and when he got to the bit where he started waving his knife in front of Brennan's face , well, that's as far as he got, Commissioner. The agent took him and his men out. Didn't even have to reload his gun."
"What about that one?" asked Gordon, pointing to a moaning man wearing clown white makeup.
"Dr. Brennan," she replied, pointing to the good-looking brunette across the room, "grabbed his arm and broke it - in more than one place, I think."
"Anything else I should know?" asked an amazed Gordon.
"The Batman was a bit surprised. He showed up, looked at the scene, and swung on out."
The M.E.'s people started to bag the body of one of Joker's gang. Gordon could tell this was another precise headshot.
"So, her date took the entire gang down. Amazing shooting."
"Dr. Brennan, says he has a problem with clowns." said Winters in a dead pan voice. They watched as the coroner's crew zipped up another body bag.
"You think?"
"Yeah." There was a pause. 'You got to admit, sir, they are creepy."
"No argument there."
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For those who didn't catch some of the earlier seasons of "Bones", Agent Boothe was relieved of duty for several months after he lost it and shot at an ice cream truck clown/speaker. He really doesn't like clowns! (or maybe has good musical taste and couldn't stand that cheesy, cheery tune)