Buzz Bronski looked up from the TV footage of Sal Maroni's arrest as Chuckie Sol entered the office, shutting the door behind him. "Well?" he demanded.
"They said no," replied Chuckie. "Falcone's offering them more money, so they'd rather work for him."
Buzz swore, standing up and pouring two glasses of whiskey. "There's gotta be something we can do," he muttered. "If all of Maroni's men defect to Falcone, we're gonna be crushed in a matter of days. We're far too outnumbered."
"We can't offer 'em more money – we're nearly broke as it is," muttered Chuckie, taking the glass he offered. "This leadership stuff is a lot harder than Sal made it out to be."
Buzz laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, guess we should have stuck Jack with it, after all. Shame he's dead, or I'd offer it right back to him. I'm kinda sorry I killed him now."
"It's so nice to hear you say that, Buzz," said a voice suddenly, and both men dropped their glasses as they unholstered their guns, pointing them at a shadowy figure seated in a chair by the window.
"Who the hell are you?" demanded Buzz. "How did you get in here?"
"You're too broke to afford decent security, that's how," retorted the figure, lighting up a cigarette. The flame from his match illuminated a pair of glowing green eyes.
"Who are you?" repeated Buzz. "Batman?"
The figure giggled, a high-pitched, hysterical sound. "Now do I sound like Mr. Deep and Brooding?" he asked. "No, Buzz, you need to get your hearing checked if you think that."
"It's you, isn't it?" muttered Chuckie. "The Joker. What do you want?"
"I want to sit down and talk about old times, Chuckie," said the figure. "And share a drink with my old friends."
"Friends?" repeated Chuckie. "What do you mean? Who are you?"
The figure sighed, standing up and stepping into the light from the TV, revealing a tall, thin man dressed in purple. The gangsters gaped at him in astonishment, not just at the man's unusual appearance – a bleached white face, grinning red lips, and bright green hair. But also at the fact that behind the demented clown face, they recognized the man Buzz had shot three years ago.
"Jack?" Buzz gasped. "You're…you're alive? But…how…"
"How did I survive that dip in the acid?" interrupted the figure with a demonic grin. "Well, as you can see, it had some unexpected side effects, mostly cosmetic, but overall it was pretty harmless. And you're not the world's best shot, you know. If you wanna kill a guy, you aim for the heart or the head, not the stomach. The stomach can be sewn up and healed, not like a heart which stops everything when it stops beating."
"Jack…" began Chuckie.
"I don't go by Jack anymore," interrupted the figure. "It's too common a name for someone as unusual as I am. The Joker suits me much better now."
"What…what do you want?" asked Buzz.
"Well, Buzz, I kinda had a hard time getting over what you did to me, I ain't gonna lie," said the Joker, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "I bust you and the rest of the boys outta jail, and you immediately plot to replace me as leader of the gang, even though I'm doing everyone a favor by offering to take out the Batman. And then just when I'm about to accomplish that, you shoot me."
"You woulda shot us too," retorted Buzz. "I just got there first."
"Maybe," agreed the Joker. "But I can't complain. You did me a favor in the long run, Buzz, really. I was never leadership material, never cut out for a job where a lotta people have gotta like me. I've always been an anti-social personality, the kind who don't play nicely with others, and I don't intend to change now. But I have always been damn good at my job. That's why I'm here, in fact," he added, puffing out another cloud of smoke. "I figured with Maroni's arrest that you'd be flailing. He's left a power vacuum, and Falcone's gonna take advantage of that by moving in on his turf and his guys."
"Tell us something we don't know," retorted Chuckie.
"All right," said the Joker with a smile. "When the carrot don't work, you have to use the stick. You made Maroni's guys an offer, and they refused it. So now you gotta make 'em an offer they can't refuse. Or rather, I will."
"Fat chance of that when you've killed dozens of them," retorted Chuckie. "Left 'em mutilated with those sick smiles…"
"You believe there's honor among thieves?" laughed the Joker. "Look no further than the three of us to prove that wrong. People die in wars, and those who live are just grateful it wasn't them killed instead. They might bear me a grudge, but their fear will override that."
"And in return you want us to give you the gang back, is that it?" demanded Buzz. "You want to lead again?"
"I'm not particularly interested in another leadership position, no," replied the Joker. "The work itself is its own reward. I've been living in the shadows for three years now, and I'm the kinda guy who's always craved the limelight. I think it's time I made my debut properly into Gotham society. The only favor I want in return is the warm, fuzzy feeling you get from helping others. And you need me."
"Why would you wanna help the guy who shot you?" demanded Buzz.
"I told you, you did me a favor," replied the Joker with a grin. "And I want to keep him entertained."
"Him?" repeated Chuckie.
"Batman," replied Joker. "If Falcone moves in and crushes you, then he wins the war in Gotham. He becomes the power in this town, the ultimate in organized crime, and I don't like that. There's too much potential for order in organized crime, and I ain't big on order, or organization of any kind. No, I wanna keep this war going, keep the chaos going. And you guys need to have a fighting chance, so Batman can be the hero he needs to be."
Buzz and Chuckie shared a look. "That don't…make a lotta sense to me…" began Buzz.
"No, of course it doesn't, because you're an idiot," snapped Joker. "Still motivated by stupid things like power, and staying alive. When you've been dead once, it gives you a whole new outlook on life, and a certain clarity. Power doesn't matter. Staying alive doesn't matter, because you're gonna go sometime, and probably sooner rather than later. The only thing that matters is having a little fun before you go. Batman gets that – that's why he dresses up in a bat costume and fights crime. That's why he doesn't kill people, because he doesn't think that would be fun, but he doesn't know what he's missing!" he chuckled. "And one day I'll show him that. But I can only do that in a town without law and order, a town where anything goes, a town where there's a perpetual gang war going on. So do you want my help or not?"
Buzz and Chuckie shared another look, and then shrugged. "Deal," said Buzz, taking Joker's outstretched hand. He instantly jumped back from the shock of the joy buzzer concealed in the Joker's glove. Joker laughed hysterically and beamed at Buzz. "That's much less painful than a bullet to the gut, trust me," he murmured, with a sinister smile. "Well, work to do!" he chuckled, heading for the door. "I'll be back soon."
"How are we supposed to contact you?" demanded Chuckie. "Do you have a phone number, address, anything?"
"Don't worry about me, Chuckie," replied Joker with a grin. "I'll find you."
He smiled again, his white teeth glinting in the darkness, and then left.
"I don't trust him," muttered Chuckie. "Not one bit."
"We don't have a choice – we either trust him, or we're dead," retorted Buzz.
Chuckie said nothing, but privately he thought that either way, they were dead. It was just a matter of time, and wondering who would get them first – Falcone or the Joker. The only question was who would be more merciful and make their deaths relatively painless. And he had a very bad feeling about the Joker in that regard – pain seemed a particular amusement of his, and a horribly painful death would be quite the joke to him.