Two days.
The tension that had ravaged itself over the practically abandoned Gotham City Fairgrounds had been unbearably high since the night he first proclaimed the Commissioner would suffer. But for two days, the serial killer that had become a media darling known only as The Joker had been waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. Anxiously checking the clock at every hour on the hour. He hadn't slept a minute, eaten a scrap of food, or drank a pint of liquid in all of that time. He just sat there, occupying his time within the vacant big top tent, playing a solo game of solitaire with one of his own decks of cards. But the unavoidable wait was enough to drive a man in his positon positively crazy. Luckily for him, he already was.
However, even with his warped psychosis at the forefront of it's brink, The Joker wasn't immune to such frustration. He could even argue that frustration was part of the reason he had even chosen to exist in the first place. Frustration with a dull and boring society full of decietful people who hypocritically went about their lives without regret, despite the numerous sins they undoubtedly committed every day of their lives. Insanity existed in Gotham City long before he had ever strolled into town. But the problem was... no one saw it. Everyone in the city, by virtue of a sad routine, had the audacity to stand there and blatantly turn a blind eye to the chaotic world they inhabited. Crime? Poverty? Violence and death? Only it's victims dared to care. To feel and be felt. But society as a whole did not generally force themselves to take on such important matters, despite their clear capacity to do so. They were more worried about trivial things like the rise of gas prices and the economy that had been failing for decades before. And if that wasn't enough, they'd turn away from their own problems to focus on the gossip of others'. Celebrities and political figures. It was all so mundane. So meaningless, so purposeless.
That's where Batman had come in.
Somehow, one soul within the thousands of the void ones in Gotham City had recognized the grand crime that existed, posing as the state of the world that we lived in today. And instead of doing what any so-called logical person would do, such as take up a quest of public activism or join the martial law-ridden police force that had been corrupted since the start of the new century, Batman was a man that chose to put on a cape and put on a mask and fight people he deemed to be unlawful by
hitting them. For once in Gotham City, the pattern was broken. Someone had stepped out and, whether or not it be unintentionally, showed the world that not only was there a problem that existed, but it could easily be placed on the path to being solved by even one man. Even with all of the hatred that loomed within The Joker's heart, his contempt for every living being that refused to acknowledge the joke of life, he was more than aware of what Batman truly was. He was a hero. Not for the lives he saved or the criminal he put away, but for finally standing up and saying that the world was an evil place, filled with evil people doing evil things.
Naturally, of course, this provided the question that had loomed on The Joker's mind ever since he challenged The Dark Knight to a battle of will and a test of time.
Where
is Batman?
"Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.", He repeated to himself, frantically scattering his cards in several different patterns.
"Tick. Tock. Tick."
It seemed simple enough, even to the uneducated mind. The Joker had taken one of Gotham City's premiere figures of authority from her high and mighty perch. He then told the citizens and officials of the city
exactly where to find directions to her whereabouts, leaving only the specific instruction that Batman be the one to follow them. From that point on, The Joker could only guess what would happen. Predictibly, of course, it would start when that big, burly car of his came smashing through the front gate, tearing through his men like a blade through bread. Things would only escalate when the hero of the day would leap out of his driver's seat, tug at his cape in some melodramatic fashion, and proclaim that the hostage be released. The Joker had been so eager to see it happen that he had already began working on material to critque the stereotype that Battyboy helped represent by being a "force for good". From there, they would exchange a few measily taunts, prompting the hero to walk straight into the trap that he had set. After that, is when things would get a bit more exciting. Either Batman would succumb to the force of the act that The Joker had booked for this show of horrors, slicing and dicing him until he was merely half the man that he was, or the hero would prevail, lasting long enough to see the villain of the piece viciously and utterly murder the hostage right infront of him, proving that even when you followed the clown's directions... you'd never win his game.
"Tick."
But for some god forsaken reason, it didn't end up happening like that. The Joker didn't know why, but much to his credit, Batman had chosen not to be as predictable this time. Despite all of his warnings that if he didn't show to save the Commisioner by midnight that she would die, there had been no trace of an effort for an ill-attempted rescue by the Bat. In some ways, that should have made The Joker very happy. This inactivity and avoidance to save Jillian Loeb before her curtain call reigned down proved true what The Joker had been saying all along... that deep within themselves, human beings were not inherently moral. They did not believe their own lies, whenever they claimed to be those same forces for good. And better yet, the man that The Joker had
thought to be the one person capable of proving him wrong had actually proven him right. Batman was finally ripped from underneath that cowl and revealed as nothing more than another simple man. A man that clung to meaningless ideals and half-hearted promises in the name of justice, only to turn up a day late and a dollar short on intervening the actual punchline of life.
"Tock."
Or, for an even grander possibility, Batman was actually biding his time. He had deduced that The Joker had lied about killing Loeb at the stroke of midnight, regardless of his arrival, and was waiting for the clown to play right into his hands. If that were true, Batman was an even greater mastermind than The Joker could have ever thought, and an adversary even more worthy of both his admiration and his malice. But despite how tempting that rationality would be to adopt, the killer that continued to await his enemy's arrival had to stop himself. Was Batman really that clever? Or was he simply hoping it? In his dire need to find someone who understood the world just as he did, would he resort to giving Batman some sort of pedestal that he couldn't stand on?
"Tick?"
There had to be an explaination. Batman lived to fight for justice in Gotham. It was his purpose. Perhaps even his obsession, if The Joker was right about them existing as two sides of the same card. He wouldn't simply shrug off his self-appointed responsibilities to the city's innocent people by allowing their police commissioner to die. Something had to have happened. Maybe he gave up? The strain that Two-Face's recent attack on the city had left on Gotham's citizens was evidently clear. Maybe Batman had caved under the pressure aswell, and hung away his tights for good?
"Tock!"
No. It had to be something else. Someone as driven as Batman could never quit so easily. Maybe it was something else. Something inavoidable that kept The Caped Crusader away. Maybe he was injured, and placed on life support deep in whatever hole he scurried away to each day. Or even worse. What if he was... dead? The Joker wasn't sure how he'd feel at such a notion. Sure, in many respects, it would be the greatest thing ever. With Batman gone and out of the way, The Joker would have to find new minds to torment. New faces to claim witness to his horrific acts. A new audience. But in the same respect, The Joker found himself unable to accept the possibility. While he could always make due with someone else, even another costumed vigilante inspired by his enemy's example, it just wouldn't be the same. No man alive, he felt, could ever capture the spark of creativity that Batman inspired within The Joker each and every moment that they remained trapped in this elegant battle of will. It was the perfect match of the logical verus the illogical. Control and order versus chaos and rebellion. He represented everything The Joker hated, loved, feared, and pitied, all in one lucious package of a man with as many screws loose as himself.
"Tick. Ticktick. Tick. Ticktick."
So if not death, what was it? The Joker was determined to find out.
"Uh... boss?"
"TOCK!"
Instantly, The Joker leaped up from out of his seat, scattering cards everywhere as he pulled out a revolver from his jacket, pulled down the trigger, and fired. One of his own men, a beefy fellow ironically nicknamed 'Gourge', was the recipient of the bullet, as the thug fell backwards while clutching his chest, before lifelessly landing in the mud. The Joker looked at the body, as if puzzled, before tossing the gun away and sitting back down. One of his other men, a skinnier clown who had accompained Gourge, looked in with panic. The Joker instantly acknowledged his prescence, turning around as if nothing had happened. Despite the fact that both men had witnessed the random murder.
"Oh, sorry about that. He startled me.", The Joker casually lied, as blood began to seep out of the deceased's gunshot wound.
"What can I do for ya, um..."
"F-Feebile."
"Fuh-Fuh-Fuh-Feebile! Right. You looked like more of 'Nuh-Nuh-Nuh-Nancy' to me, but anyway..."
The Joker strolled out of his tent, placing his arm around Feebile's shoulder and forcing him out, aswell. "Walk with me, talk with me. I don't get much company."
"W-Well, uh... Mr. Joker, sir,", Feebile began, evidently uncomfortable.
"Me and the boys were just wanting to know what you wanted us to do. The last order you gave us was a couple days ago, and we were wondering... uh..."
"Right, right. I'm perfectly aware of the boys' situation, Feeb.", The killer interjected.
"Which is why I'm sure you'll understand if I remind you that I'm the one fronting their salary, these days."
"Well... sure. We get that. You're the boss, and all."
The Joker lightly chuckled, fondly admiring that notion.
"Well, then. I guess Tony Danza's career was for nothing."
"But we were just wondering, uh...", Feebile continued, becoming increasingly timid.
"Uh... i-is The Bat even gonna show?"
The chuckling stopped. Feebile began to sweat, as his boss looked over him with that permanent, masked grin. But somehow, the thug could tell that he had touched a nerve. That behind that mask, despite it's grin, The Joker wasn't smiling at that.
His suspicions were only confirmed, when The Joker took him by the shirt and violently swung him into a nearby decrepted wooden stand, ironically advertising the world's strongest man attraction. Before Feebile could even move, not that he really could, The Joker's shoe stepped hard into the ground, as the maniac loitered with a murderous glare in his eyes.
"Is... he going to show?", The Joker rhetorically asked.
"Is he going to show? What's that supposed to mean?"
Feebile was quick to raise his hands in defeat, hoping the clown would back off. Or at least, not kill him.
"Idon'tknowIdon'tknowIsweartogodIdidn'tmeanto-!"
The Joker lashed out with raw animalistic fury, tearing into the thug with everything he had, ripping and clawing at his flesh. But even in his angered state, he couldn't help but laugh and cackle maniacally.
"HA HA HA! YES! YES, OF COURSE HE'S GOING TO SHOW! HE'S BATMAN! THAT'S WHAT HE DOES! IT'S ALL HE DOES!"
In a final merciless act, as Feebile remained close to death, The Joker stuck his gloved fingers up the exposed face's nostrils, and pulled down hard, ripping the upper lip and bottom nose apart. The thug screamed out, rather loudly, as the Clown Prince savored every bit of the moment for himself. But even behind it all, the question that Feebile had dared to ask was still on his mind. Was the Bat going to show? The Joker's laughter eventually died down, forcing him to wipe away a gleeful tear from his eye. He had to show. He couldn't miss this. He had to prove his worth as a fixation of every crime The Joker committed. Otherwise... what was The Joker? Just a funnyman in a dimestore, bloodied and muddied up harlequin mask and suit. It was Batman that made him the killer he was, and it would be Batman that would drive his act home.
But if Batman wasn't coming...
"Hh. I'll tell you what, Fuh-Fuh-Fuh-Feebile.", The Joker began, leaning down with the thug's own blood sprayed across his suit.
"You tell the boys something for me. Can you do that?"
Even without the lower portion of his nose and half of his upper lip, the thug nodded. He knew better than to make his situation all the more worse. But what he didn't know was the passion that was about to come from The Joker's tone... until he looked directly into the killer's manic eyes.
"Tell them we're going on a spree, tonight. We're going to paint the town red, and light up the skies. Do you understand? We are gonna do everything to everyone... until he shows."
Feebile's eyes widened, imagining the scale that The Joker was referencing, as the clown slowly wandered away, heading back to his tent to grab some supplies. And slowly, but surely, the smile on the maniac's face returned.
"If Batman isn't going to come to our home... we're going to come to his."
