"How do you know what Alfred said?" demanded Two-Face.
"I don't – I'm taking a little creative license, but I know for sure Robin showed up," snapped Joker. "So I assume someone called him in, or he got lucky somehow. But considering Robin will never get lucky in his life, if you know what I mean, that seems pretty unlikely. My guess is Bats was out of town, and when Gordon lit the Batsignal, the birdie showed up instead. Which of course wouldn't fill anyone with confidence, least of all poor Bruce. But I just want everyone to note that we're up to three crimes now – kidnapping, torture, and extortion. Many more to come, so stay tuned!"
"Who are you talking to?" asked Harley, confused, since Joker seemed to be addressing thin air.
"The audience," said Joker, gesturing around him. "The eager listeners of my hilarious exploits, past, present, and future. The eternal crowd of fans and admirers who ask themselves, 'What would Joker do?' in order to keep themselves smiling and laughing through even the darkest times. Some may not even be born yet, some may be dead soon, but I live forever in their collective minds. Whenever a story about me is told, no matter how good or bad it is, the eternal jester that is me maintains his presence, his cheeky, comic soul, both divine and dangerous, both hilarious and horrific, an immortal spirit laughing at the pain and suffering of humanity, and reveling in its eternal joke."
"Are you high?" demanded Ivy.
"High on my success and achievement, yes, I am!" said Joker, cheerfully.
"Do I have to write all that down?" asked Crane. "It has nothing to do with the story, and I honestly didn't catch most of it. When one spends enough time in academia, one learns to automatically tune out pompous, self-aggrandizing nonsense, since there's so much of it around…"
"That's funny, since pompous to me is someone who's been tasked to take down a story verbatim, and then putting their own editorial spin on it by cutting out parts of it they don't like," interrupted Joker. "Which, as you say, is typical of academics, buncha egotistical eggheads with an overinflated sense of their own importance who presume they have the ability to judge others lesser than them, present company included," he added, nodding at Crane. "Just write down what I said – I'm sorry you're not smart enough to understand it, but we can't all be geniuses."
"Genius and madness are often mistaken for one another," muttered Crane. "I daresay you've just mixed the two up."
"And I daresay you wouldn't know genius if it hit you in the face," retorted Joker. He suddenly punched Crane, and added, "Which it just did. And now back to the story! We kept Brucie chained to the radiator, and the hyenas locked in the kitchen, while Harley and I got dressed. Bruce still wasn't in a great mood, even though the hyenas were locked up, and his release was imminent, which just goes to show you how spoiled and entitled the rich are. Anyway, he remained silent and sullen as we drove to Wayne Enterprises in his corvette. The building was pretty secure, of course, but they recognized Bruce's car and just waved us through. Brucie's got his own private elevator in an underground parking garage, so we parked there and then Bruce accessed the elevator by scanning his thumbprint. I told him that was a pretty insecure way to access something, since anyone could just cut off his thumb, but he said that didn't seem likely to happen, which makes me think he underestimates the number of crazy people out there, particularly in this city."
Well, his office is this huge, penthouse-like room at the very top of a very tall tower, which Harley assures me is definitely some sort of Freudian overcompensation. You could host a party in there, and from what I gather, he occasionally does. But he's not even there much, so it's largely a huge waste of space. And the waste of space got me thinking.
"How much money does your company earn in a year?" asked Joker.
"I don't keep an eye on things like that," replied Bruce. "As long as the money keeps coming in, the exact numbers don't matter much to me."
"So it's a pretty lucrative setup, where you don't even have to pay attention to what goes in and what comes out," said Joker. "You can focus on other things, like having fun."
"That's my general life plan, yes," agreed Bruce.
"That settles it – Harley, I need to be a billionaire," announced Joker. "It's the only way I can fund a lavish lifestyle lived solely for my own pleasure."
"Well, good luck with that," retorted Harley. "Not everyone is lucky enough to have billionaire parents who get murdered."
"Now Harley, inheritance isn't the only way to get rich in this country," said Joker. "You can also achieve the American dream, becoming a billionaire entrepreneur."
"Yeah? What are you gonna entrepreneur?" asked Harley.
"I dunno – I'll think of something," said Joker, shrugging. "I am a genius, after all, and stupider people than me have managed to be successful billionaires. Look at Lexy, and Brucie here. The way I see it, you just need a wealthy sponsor to invest in your idea, and you're home free. Brucie, how would you like to invest in Joker Enterprises?" he asked, turning to him.
"Will you release me if I do?" asked Bruce.
"Absolutely," said Joker, nodding. "After you give me the three billion dollars in startup money, of course."
Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes. "Ok, while we're waiting for Alfred to get here with whatever money he could scrape together for the ransom, why don't I see what money I have in the company? Maybe I can shuffle some stuff around, or sell some stocks," he said, holding up his cuffed hands and nodding at the computer. "But I'll need to be able to type."
"Fine," sighed Joker, undoing the handcuffs. "But I don't know how you expect to trade stocks at this hour."
"Some of the overseas markets are probably open," replied Bruce, accessing the computer.
"You do a lot of trading overseas?" asked Joker.
"Yes, in Asia and Europe, mostly," replied Bruce. "I think we just recently signed a deal with a company in the UK…"
"The UK?" repeated Joker. "I went there once – really great country. You know nobody there has guns, not even the cops, so you can pretty much do whatever the hell you want with no one to stop you. Can you put me in touch with your UK guy? Joker Enterprises might like to start up there."
"Uh…I mean…I can…but you don't even have a company yet," said Bruce, slowly. "Or an idea for what your company is going to do…"
"How about racketeering?" asked Joker. "Everybody needs racketeers. From drug trafficking to money laundering, there's a huge market out there for a reliable company to perform illegal services."
"So you're going to establish a company whose sole purpose is to engage in illegal activity?" asked Bruce. "You're just going to admit that you commit crimes, right out in the open?"
"Yep, hiding in plain sight, that's the best strategy," replied Joker. "So many companies insist on doing criminal activity underground, and it's so cowardly and dishonest. Plus, it'd be the last thing people expect, wouldn't it?"
"Not from you," retorted Bruce.
"Sure, this kinda thing ain't my usual style," replied Joker. "But I am a very good criminal, so I don't see why I wouldn't get tons of business, since my reputation precedes me. I wouldn't even have to advertise much. And Harley could be my secretary, so that would save me paying for a staff…"
"Woah, woah, woah, I'm not gonna be the single administrator in some giant corporation!" snapped Harley. "White collar crime ain't my style for sure – I wouldn't even know where to start!"
"Well, fortunately for you, I would," retorted Joker, shoving Bruce out of the way and sitting down at his computer. "The internet," he said, opening a browser. "And a social media site – that's really all you need these days."
He typed in Joker Enterprises – criminal and racketeering services provided. Contact me today! He then typed in a phone number, and pressed submit on the post.
"There. Now all we gotta do is sit back and wait," he said, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair. "And speaking of waiting, where the hell is your butler?" he asked, checking his watch. "Looks like he wants me to kill you after all."
"Guess again, Joker," said a voice from the window. They all turned to see Robin standing there.
"You?" said Joker and Bruce, both sounding disappointed.
"Yes, I'm here to save you, Bruce," retorted Robin, glaring at him.
"I don't think you're going to be very helpful, Robin," retorted Bruce. "Anyway, I have the situation entirely under control."
"Not from where I'm standing," replied Robin.
"Then move," retorted Bruce, stepping back as a squad of heavily armed guards suddenly burst into the room, surrounding Joker and Harley and pointing guns at them.
"Oh, you called your security guys on the computer instead of checking your stocks," sighed Joker, standing up and raising his hands slowly. "I hate when people lie to me, Brucie – it really makes me reluctant to trust anyone ever again."
"Sorry to betray the trust of a criminal," retorted Bruce, sarcastically. "I want them stunned, not killed," he added at the guards. "These aren't live rounds."
"They aren't?" said Joker, brightening. "Then who the hell cares? Come on, Harl," he said, heading straight toward the guards blocking the doorway. "I'm not afraid of a bunch of fake bullets."
The guard fired at him, hitting him full in the chest. "Ow! Jesus, that really hurts, you jerk!" shouted Joker, ripping the gun from his hands and hitting him across the face with it. "How do you like it, huh?!"
The other guards began firing at him, as Joker ducked behind the desk and fired back. "God, this feels all wrong," he muttered, as the bullets ricocheted off the armored guards. "Look, I can even do a headshot, and nothing!" he shouted, shooting one of the guards in the face, which incapacitated him, but clearly didn't kill him. "It's like I'm using a toy gun!"
"Yeah, it's no fun for sure," agreed Harley, as she kicked the computer chair into the guards blocking the door, clearing a path. "C'mon, puddin'!" she shouted, racing toward the door.
"Stop them!" shouted Bruce, as they ran out of the office and into the elevator. Joker began pressing buttons, but the elevator didn't respond.
"Oh right, we need Brucie's thumb to operate it!" he exclaimed. "Should have cut that off while we had the chance!"
"Too late now!" retorted Harley, as the guards rushed them, firing into the elevator. Joker threw down a handful of exploding Joker toxin marbles, and the toxin and smoke temporarily blinded the guards as Harley leapt up to the emergency escape hatch, pulling Joker after her. They spotted a vent in the elevator shaft and crawled into this, navigating the ventilation system and coming out in another huge office.
"Who do you think this belongs to?" asked Harley, looking around.
"My guess is Lucius Fox," replied Joker, pointing to the nameplate on the desk. "Boy, there's a lot of weird tech stuff in here," he commented. "This guy must be a major nerd."
"Yeah," agreed Harley. "You gotta be a nerd to have a bust of Shakespeare in your office," she said, picking it up. The head of the sculpture suddenly fell off.
"Oh, great job, Harl – you broke it!" snapped Joker. "You clumsy dame! Give me that!" he snapped, grabbing it back from her and accidentally hitting the button that had been revealed when the head was removed.
A large display case suddenly rose up from the floor. The screen slid aside to reveal several odd-looking gadgets. "Huh. These look almost Bat-like," commented Joker. "But he's never used them on me before."
"Oh my God, Wayne Enterprises is secretly colluding with Batman!" exclaimed Harley. "Talk about your scoop of the century! That must mean Brucie knows who he is! We should have had Bud and Lou torture him until he told us!"
"I'm really not interested in who he is, Harley," replied Joker. "And I'm really not interested in Wayne Enterprises colluding with him. Private companies have the right to deal with who they want, including criminals and vigilantes. This is America, dammit, and that's part of our freedom."
"But we could sue Wayne Enterprises for funding a man who has inflicted severe bodily and emotional harm!" exclaimed Harley. "That'd get your billions real quick!"
"Yeah, but it would involve lawyers," sighed Joker. "Who are the scum of the earth. No, I'd much rather go the honest route, and just commit crimes to earn money instead. That way I can still look at myself in the mirror every day."
They heard footsteps heading their way. "Time to go," said Joker, opening the office door and seeing a stairwell nearby. They both leapt onto the banister, sliding down it to outrun their pursuers, and for fun, of course.
They jumped off at the bottom of the stairs, and came face to face with Robin. "You're not going anywhere," he said, trying to sound resolute and threatening, but this was difficult coming from someone who was clearly a child.
"Yeah, try and stop us, kid," retorted Joker. "I don't have my lucky Robin killing crowbar with me, but I can still beat you to death with my bare hands."
In response, Robin flung a Batarang at him, which hit him in the shoulder. "Y'know, I'm really tired of people hitting me with non-lethal things!" snapped Joker. "It's really annoying! Be man enough to shoot to kill, or don't do it at all! Difficult for you, I know, since you're not even a man!" he shouted, flinging the Batarang back at him.
Robin dodged it, shooting out a grappling hook which wrapped itself around Joker's legs. He dragged him to the floor, but was immediately attacked by Harley, who struck him across the face with her hammer. "Playtime's over, kiddie!" she snapped, beating him a couple times while Joker disentangled himself from the grappling hook.
"Leave the kid alone, Harl – he's too unimportant to even be worth killing," sighed Joker. "Let's just get out of here – we got what we needed."
"Did we?" asked Harley, puzzled, as they headed for the door to the parking garage. "We didn't get a ransom for Brucie."
"Yes, we did!" chuckled Joker, holding up a USB drive. "I downloaded all the funds he had on the bank accounts linked to his computer! I think we must have ripped him off for several million. Not the billions I was hoping for, but not bad."
"Yeah," agreed Harley, as they climbed into Bruce's corvette. "And with your new racketeering service, we'll make more money in no time."
Her phone rang suddenly, and she answered it, as Joker drove out of the parking garage by driving straight through the barrier. "Hello?"
She frowned. "Who the hell is this? How did you get this number? Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah. I'll pass it on."
She hung up, glaring at Joker. "You put my number as the number for Joker Enterprises?" she demanded.
"Well, I wasn't going to give out mine," retorted Joker. "You know what kinda freaks and weirdos are out there on the internet."
"Yeah, they're all calling me now!" snapped Harley, as her phone rang again.
"So field them – you're my secretary!" snapped Joker. "Only take on the ones that sound really profitable, or really fun and unusual. Because you gotta love your work, not just do what makes you money."
Harley sighed, answering the phone. "Hello? Yeah. Uh huh. O…K. Yeah. I'll let him know."
She hung up, and looked at Joker. "Well, I think we just got a fun and unusual request."
