jla_watchtower | (no subject)

There's more than one way to skin a cat. But for information...well, the Joker only knew of one perfect clearing house for that.

The Batman.

Problematic. Usually, a meeting with the Bat results in a swift trip back to Arkham. Express.

Precautions have to be made.

A trip to the hardware store, taken in the middle of the night provided Joker with the necessary ingredients to a fertilizer bomb. Walkie-talkies from the Radio Shack next door supplied a trigger. Crude, but workable. Then, where to stash the bomb...where would it be really funny...?

Well, one of his contemporaries had always been too close to the Bat, after all.

City Hall, then. The guards were overpaid at best. Too easy to sneak up on, easier still to garotte with their own neckties. Joker blindfolded one with the murder weapon, and left him seated in front of the statue of blind lady justice, before walking unchallenged into the district attorney's office, and sliding his homemade radio-controlled fertilizer bomb inside a supply closet. Wonderful for shrapnel, office supplies can be.

Well. time to arrange a meeting. The best ways were often the easiest. He used a payphone directly across the street from City Hall, and phoned One Police Plaza.

"Hello, cops. I want to report a crime in progress..."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What do you want?"

"I want the Bat, officer Unfriendly. I'd hate to have to press this little button and put on an untimely fireworks display."

Captain Sawyer scribbles a note and hands it off to Stacy. The red ball just got brighter.

"Just the Bat? No other demands?"

Keep him talking ... keep him talking ... get that trace in. Get the SWAT boys out.

"Why Captain Maggie, I think you're making a pass at me. I could sue for sexual harassment!"

Joker cackles madly, twirling in place at the payphone.

"Don't make me pick someone at random, just because you want to stall me, Sawyer," he said, switching from amused to deadly serious at the drop of a hat. "And don't send the little red bird, unless you want it to rain judge parts."

Shit.

"I won't send the kid," she says aloud.

"There's a good cop. I'll make sure to send you something special for Christmas. After all, it's the giving season, isn't it? Just ask Commissioner Jim about what I gave his daughter..."

Joker giggles madly, and drops the phone into it's cradle. The Bat will be along shortly, and they can chat, about unions of supervillians who didn't invite him to play their reindeer games.

Captain Sawyer glares at the phone. "Yeah, and I heard about what he gave you for Christmas one year...."

At this moment, though she wouldn't admit it, she sympathized with the former Commissioner's impulse to put a bullet through the Joker's knee.

Ten minutes later, the shadow of the Bat hangs over City Hall. Finding the Joker, if this is a way to arrange a meeting, should not be difficult.

A.D.A. Dawes had a deck of playing cards in her desk drawer. This delighted Joker, who sat with his back to a wall, watching the windows, detonator sitting atop a case of bottled water nearby, as he scaled cards neatly into the hat of one of the security guards he'd freed from this mortal coil.

"I can tell you're there, you know," he said, not bothering to look up. "It always drops about ten degrees when you're around. Like standing next to the Icicle. Have you spoken to anyone about that permanent frown, Batty?"

"What do you want?" asks the Bat from the darkness around the doorway.

"Funny story: You know, the moment anyone says the word union at Wal-Mart, they get fired on the spot? Same thing happens at LexCorp, from what I hear."

He glances up, grin widening.

"I know the police are ok with unions. I still have Jimbo's union card in one of the Ha-Ha-Haciendas. Kind of a souvenier of happier times. I'd have kept his lady's wedding ring, but when you frisk somebody, you're thorough, aren't you?"

The cowled stare fixes on the detonator, appraising its threat, before it shifts back to the Clown Prince.

Joker's eyes follow Batman's.

"Should really have that in my hand, right?" He clucks his tongue, and smacks his own forehead. "I mean, if I really want to be threatening, I should wave it around, and maybe dramatically announce that it's on a dead-man's switch, so if I drop it, it goes off and turns this place into a parking lot. Why, you'd almost think I just wanted to talk about something..."

"I know you do," growls the Batman, "so get on with it."

"I'm getting there, Skulky. In my own way."

Joker's fingers flicked a card, sending it scaling across to land at Batman's feet. It was the Ace of Spades. Lining up neatly next to it, one after another, were the other three aces.

"No unions at LexCorp. No unions at Wal-Mart. they're two of the biggest employers in the free world. You don't see Bruce Wayne keeping people from signing up for union representation, right? You know why that is? Because he understands that sometimes, people want a protection from the big bad corporate sharks. Someone to stand up for the little guy."

Joker's head shoots up, chin raising indignantly.

"So, I ask you, is it fair that I get denied the same basic rights that someone offers frigging Crazy-Quilt?"

"Committing a felony means you get denied rights," Batman snaps. The cards he leaves at his feet. He'll get them later. "You want something. What is it?"

"You think I need your permission for what I want?" Joker explodes, launching himself to his feet. "I'll kill Polaris just fine without any permission from the likes of you. After all, I didn't drop you a note when I put a bullet through Jimmy-boy's red-headed pride and joy, now did I?"

The fist is tightly clenched and released at the Joker's teeth without warning, without pause, without hesitation. For a large man, the Bat moves quickly.

Joker didn't bother trying to dodge it, or block it. In fact, it almost looked as though he leaned into the punch.

"Took you long enough," Joker groans, hitting the ground. He rolls to one side, trying to get up, but far too dizzy from the impact. "Been working out...the forearms...? Think I'll jus' stay dow'..."

Batman helps him to his feet. And hits him again.

Maybe it wasn't expecting that one. Or the one that follows it.

The second punch sends Joker mumbling some old knock-knock joke to himself, insensetate. The third closes the book on his consciousness for the day. He sags bonelessly to the floor, head hitting with a loud, hard thump.

Don't joke to the man about Barbara's wound.

Or Jason.

Or Jim Gordon's wife.

Or knock-knock jokes, for that matter.

He drops the limp body and goes to the detonator to make sure the Is are dotted and the Ts are crossed...and wishes the Joker'd wake up to deserve more beating.