Never too Serious 10 - (DCverse, SI)

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It was mid-morning when I got the call from Sybil.

I knew something was wrong from her panicked tone, and I wasted no time in getting the entire organization on the move. Crush herself was put in charge of the base while I was out - a bit of a sudden thing to drop on her lap, but I made it clear that I had to be out for this.

The loud engine of the small car I was driving was purring angrily as I scoured Gotham's streets with reckless pace, my eyes fixed on the road as my brain wrapped around the notion that of all potential attacks, one at Olive's school had unfolded like that. So easily and suddenly. There had been no warning, and the few men I had assigned to keep an eye on the girl had been gunned down prior to the strike.

The reason I hadn't gotten any news about it was because someone had managed to slip a virus in the system that made it appear the jammed radios were still working, and the 'nerds' were already taking steps to flush the thing out.

I turned one of the corners, barely losing any of the car's speed as I was thinking of the various trucks rushing to investigate old Joker's lairs as those that had attacked the school had worn some of the older masks used by the Joker's gang. Which meant that someone found them, got enough thugs to play the role and actually had someone spying on us from within.

I knew we had rats for a time, but I thought we had all those crazies removed as of now. My mistake, I guess, but I am so going to clean up the slate now that I knew there was such a troublesome act in play.

The worst bit about all of this was that whoever was playing this game was not doing it through cliche methods. The address that Sybil got was not ACE Chemical, or any place that is known to handle chemicals. Hell, it was a place that was new to me and this was bad. If it is new, then it means whoever was behind this could be equally new. I had a few names on the tip of my tongue that could be playing the whole 'Heir to the Joker' thing, but I knew those would rely on the 'known places'.

No, the address was an old steel foundry that had gone in disrepair fifty years ago.

By the time I arrived, I found Sybil waiting near the entrance and she bolted towards me as I unloaded the content of my car's trunk.

"J-John, they got her."

"I know," I muttered quietly.

"They- what do they want?"

"Don't know, but they aren't leaving the place alive," I stated as a matter of fact. "Syb, put this and this on."

The woman paused, perhaps baffled by my weirdly calm tone, or the gas mask and bulletproof jacket I gave her... or the 12-gauge shotgun I pulled out once I was done putting my own mask.

"There's a chance they have some of the Joker Gas, so I want you to be in your best behavior because whoever got 'Live is not playing games," I explained quietly. "They will try their hardest to either separate us or try to get us in a very vulnerable position."

"D-Do you know... who did this?"

"I have a few guesses, but nothing solid," I confessed and I gave her a genuine look of kindness. "Olive will be fine."

This will not end in another Maggie.

I steeled my nerves as I took the lead, Sybil right behind me as we both stepped into the abandoned building. While outside there was no sign that this place had been taken over by someone, the interior sure had some Joker-ly themes sprayed all over. The clowny attitude and the lack of lights truly made the entire walk a chilling experience.

And as we finally arrived to the central stage of this crappy play, I could tell the budget had gone into paying for the attack, any attack dogs all around the perimeter of this place, and the overall Jokerish decorations within the building. Because, a single thug with a gun aimed at little Olivia was quite a decline in quality. Maybe the rest went in the fancy glass coffin in the middle of the room- you know the one with fancy transparent tubes leading to some canisters with a familiar Jokerly brand on them.

Someone emerged from the shadows, clapping slowly as I rolled my eyes at such a cringeworthy appearance.

"Finally you make your appearance, Joker. The newest version, the heir to the previous Clown Prince of Crime."

"More like the Usurper of the New Age. So, I suppose you are something of a 'Harley Queen, the Second' or something?"

I could tell from the get-go who it was, and I was literally groaning within at the thought that my entry in this universe had triggered an early Punchline out of the blue. You know, the replacement Joker had with an equally unstable woman that wanted the clown D. Since I killed Mr. J early on, it goes without a saying that this bitch wanted some of that Jokerly Cock due to her mental unstable kinks.

"The name's Punchline, Mr. J~."

"Nope," I interrupted, aiming my shotgun at the bitch. "That ain't getting off the ground. It was creepy when the original duo was around, now it's downright bad bad."

"You will learn to accept it," The woman offered giddily, "After all, you wish to free this little one, am I right? And the only way for you to do that is-"

"By walking into that glass cage that will fill up with spooky green gas," I interjected dryly. "Not really a shocking plan and, truth be told, by far the most lackluster of it all."

Her scowl was delightful, but Punchline soon retrieved a revolver and aimed it at us. "Drop your things and get in the coffin."

I rolled my eyes again, but I decided to play half the game she asked from me. I had Sybil hold the shotgun, something that Punchline didn't seem to appreciate but kept quiet. I slowly started to drop all other gadgets in my possessions while Sybil stared at the weapon in confusion. But as she saw me wink at her as I was turned to drop one of my 'cool gadget belts' from my normal one, she slowly realized that this was a plan.

After all, Punchline's limited reaction to her getting the gun meant she didn't know about the practice I had her go through. Self-defense was important, and so Sybil had asked if I could teach her how to use a handgun. And... that devolved into her learning how to handle bigger guns in the last week or so.

Hence why I gave that shotgun to her- the moment an opportunity came, she had to shot the thug, Punchline and... me. Possibly me. I mean, part of the plan was to do something batshit insane while I was on the verge of pure madness. It was quite the selfless act that truly ruined any plans. It was the gameover of gameovers and I was... willingly walking into it.

What's the point of going forward if more kids were to die? First Maggie, now Olive?

No. That wasn't going to fly by me. I wasn't a hero, but I was someone that was willing to let go of all sorts of plans if it meant breaking the cycle of pain and save someone I cared for.

Punchline slammed the coffin shut as soon as I got inside, giving me a lustful grin that was matched by my finest scowl. The gas started to pour in, softly and, seemingly, harmlessly.

The glass cage was stuffed with it in second, and even as I held my breath I felt it reach my lungs through my nostrils- no matter how much I tried to hold it back, the Joker gas got through and I knew it was a matter of time before I lost my lucidity. I thought it would have been just so that I barely had any control, and that I could still see something despite my body going by insanity alone.

But I lost focus. I completely lost it all.

My sight blurred out and my perception of reality was warped as I found myself...

Waking up.

My head jerked up, eyes wide open as I found myself greeted by people all around. I was... sitting by a chair by a bar's counter, from morning it was evening, and this looked hardly to be a place in Gotham. Or anywhere on Earth. Not only the overall setting felt unusual, but the people there sharing the various tables. Some were rowdy humanoids, others had tentacles, others had fur, but they were all gifted with a singular unifying detail.

Their smiles. Their giggles. Their chuckles. Their fun. They were all having fun. Some for simple reasons and relatable circumstances, others were claiming dumb details as source for chuckles, then there were those born with cruel humor to tickle their fun bones.

As I looked around, shocked and unable to put my head on what was currently happening, if this was an hallucination or something of the kind, I felt someone stop beyond the counter to polish some glasses.

"A new customer... and a new friend. Hello."

I turned to the man, and I was frowning over his porcelain mask. A complex and yet umblemished stone-like face and 'hair'. He was wearing an elegant suit with red and blue fancily mixing in a sublime combination of class and fashion.

"What... what is this?"

"The Tavern. A place for people like you and I, Fools without borders of location and timing - the joke lies within the simplicity of such setting," The man replied without hesitation, almost as if someone had asked him this many times. "I am Giovanni, by the way. Would you so happen to be our patron's newest... interest?"

What?!


AN

The Fools! The Fools are here!