T.J. slowed his pace as he left the graveyard behind. The sounds of pursuit had faded, and he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. He had managed to outsmart Scar and his goons—again. Maybe he should have joined the track team; all this running was definitely paying off.
"I really should stop playing hero," he muttered to himself, his breath coming in quick bursts. "Or at least invest in a decent disguise. This face is too pretty to keep getting in trouble."
He laughed softly, but his amusement was cut short as a van screeched to a halt next to him. Before T.J. could react, two pairs of hands grabbed him, yanking him off his feet and into the back of the van. He caught a glimpse of his attackers: one had neon green hair with a lopsided grin, and the other was a hulking brute with a tattoo of a laughing Joker on his neck.
"Hey, watch the merchandise!" T.J. protested as they shoved him down. "You know, manhandling a minor is a serious crime. I'm not saying you'll get a lot of jail time, but I'm also not saying you won't."
The green-haired thug laughed, his voice high-pitched and grating. "Oh, we know who you are, Del Toro. Scar's been looking for you. We're just doing him a favor by bringing you in."
The brute with the Joker tattoo chuckled. "Scar's gonna love us for this. We're gonna be heroes!"
T.J. rolled his eyes as they slipped a bag over his head. "You guys seriously need to work on your hero standards."
A sharp blow to the back of his head cut off his next wisecrack, and everything went black.
T.J. woke up with a dull ache in his skull. He blinked, his vision blurry at first, but soon it cleared. He was tied to a rickety old chair in what looked like a junkyard. Rusted cars and broken machinery surrounded him, illuminated by a few flickering neon lights shaped like distorted smiles. Joker memorabilia was strewn everywhere—painted faces, grimacing masks, and graffiti of twisted jokes. He quickly realized he was in one of the Joker gang's hideouts.
T.J. groaned and tested his restraints, finding his arms and legs securely tied. "Seriously? I get the grand tour of Joker World, and this is my VIP experience? You know, kidnapping a minor is really gonna look bad on your resumes."
The green-haired thug stood nearby, flipping a butterfly knife in his hand. Next to him, Joker Tattoo was rummaging through a pile of junk. Both of them turned to T.J., grinning at his comment.
"Keep talking, kid," said Joker Tattoo, his voice deep and gravelly. "Scar's on his way, and he'll shut you up real good."
T.J. smirked. "Scar's on his way? Great. Let me know when he gets here so I can make sure to not be."
Green Hair cackled. "You've got a mouth on you. Maybe we'll cut that first. Scar's been dying to get even with you since you started poking your nose where it doesn't belong."
Before things could escalate further, the sound of a door slamming open echoed through the junkyard. Scar stormed in, looking furious. His eyes landed on T.J., then darted to the two gang members. "What the hell is this? You idiots brought him here? Are you trying to get us all busted?"
Joker Tattoo shrugged. "We thought we'd surprise you, boss. You've been talking about getting this kid for weeks."
Scar's face twisted in anger. "Yeah, but not here! Not now! You two just signed our death warrant with this stunt!"
As Scar berated his underlings, T.J. subtly worked his wrists against the ropes. They had been tied haphazardly, and the knots were loose. He tugged, feeling the ropes give slightly. He kept bantering to distract them. "Wow, Scar, didn't know you cared so much. I almost feel special. Maybe we should schedule these little get-togethers more often?"
Scar shot him a murderous glare. "Shut up, Del Toro. You're not going to be so cocky once I'm through with you."
A loud crash interrupted their argument. All eyes turned to where T.J. had been sitting. The chair was toppled over, ropes discarded, and T.J. was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he?" Scar yelled, rushing over. He looked around frantically, rage and panic mixing on his face. "Find him, you morons!"
Meanwhile, T.J. was already darting through the maze of junk. He spotted a sleek hover bike parked near the entrance, probably one of the gang's escape vehicles. Without hesitation, he jumped on, starting it up. The engine hummed to life, and T.J. kicked off, speeding out of the junkyard.
"Get him!" Scar screamed as Green Hair and Joker Tattoo scrambled after T.J., grabbing another bike. They tore off after him, their shouts drowned out by the roar of engines.
T.J. weaved through the darkened streets of Neo-Gotham, the wind whipping against his face. He glanced back to see the two thugs gaining on him. He gunned the throttle, swerving around a corner, narrowly missing a stack of crates.
He could hear their bikes revving closer, and then he felt a jolt as one of the gang members bumped into his bike. T.J. lost control, skidding across the pavement and tumbling to the ground. He groaned, pain shooting through his side as he tried to get up.
Green Hair and Joker Tattoo loomed over him, smirking. "End of the line, Del Toro," Joker Tattoo said, cracking his knuckles.
T.J. raised his hands in surrender, still trying to catch his breath. "Okay, okay, you win. Just… can we not do the whole dramatic monologue thing? My head's already killing me."
They laughed, moving in to grab him. T.J. clenched his fists, ready to fight back, even if it was a losing battle. He wasn't going down without a fight.
"Bring it on, clowns," T.J. muttered under his breath, adrenaline kicking in once more.