Monday the 6th
Gotham, Exeter Street
It was Monday so the Joker decided that it was time to play Whack-a-mole. But it was noon and moles were in short supply in Gotham City, so out came the crowbar and it was time for Whack-a-Joe! Joker was having fun, and was bringing down average Joes on the street left and right! That is until he tried to strike a man with a wood war hammer for a cane.
“It seems I missed, Hold still sparky!” the Joker chuckled as he reared back for an overhead swing.
“I am a Lord of Chaos peasant,” the man said.
“Lord? Then I am a GOD!” the Joker said as he attacked.
The strike kept going until the clink of the attack hitting the concrete sidewalk. The man shock his head and then raised his cane.
“A Lord of Chaos is only as solid as they need to be!” the man struck the Joker in the chest sending him into a wall, “And I can assure you that I am more then able to break you!”
The Lord of Chaos struck the Joker with a blow to the gut that doubled the Joker over, then to the chin sending the Joker back with a shattered jaw. Using the hook of the Warhammer handle he pulled the Joker into his outstretched arm knocking him down in a clothsline that shattered the Jokers ribs and shoulders. The Lord of Chaos struck each of the Jokers thighs with the end of his cane shattering the femurs. The Joker could sense death lurking close by, the last time he was this messed up he had been hit by a tank.
“Ganna finish me off?” Joker coughed, “That would please the Bat…”
“No I am going to leave you to a fate worse then death,” the Lord of Chaos tapped the handle of the can on the Jokers head, “You are now your own Harley Quinn.”
The Joker’s world went dark.
*
The Police responded to the attack were amazed at the victims. Sure the Joker had run off.
“What do you make of this?” a Patrol man asked a SWAT sergeant
“One of those Jokerz,” the SWAT Sergeant asked, “When the Clown runs into them it’s a crap shoot as to if helps them or harms them.”
“Get this one to the ER and run prints and DNA throw Wants and Warrents,” the Major Crime Detective ordered, “If anything hits we’ll slap the cuffs on at the hospital.”
*
“I mean why is her skin like that?” the teenager asked.
“Alabaster Skin,” the woman said, “My brother looks almost like an albino.”
“And the Hair?” the teenager kept prodding, “What about down there?”
“Some wax jobs last longer, granted its been at least a week but if hair growth is slow there still wouldn’t be roots showing on a dye job.”
“The patient is awake!” the Teenager snapped.
“Stay here I will get the doctor!” the woman said.
“Shh, don’t try to move, you were hurt really badly we have you on a resporator and Ivs,” the Teenager said.
The Joker open his eyes and looked at the teenager, a freaking Candy Striper intern! He needed to contact Harley and the goon squads. He had a rematch to fight!
“Look, I shouldn’t do this but you should see how bad you are,” the Candy Striper took a picture of the Joker with her smart phone and showed it to the Joker, “I don’t know why you dressed up like the Joker, but he really does a mean number to any one he thinks is impersonating him.”
The Joker was Dumbstruck, he was a she and a mega babe at that. Long flowing green hair, D maybe double D cup tits, sexy lips. He needed to, well she needed to get out of here! The Idea struck her.
“Are you trying to ask for something?” the Candy Striper looked at the patient’s hand moving by her side, “Phone? A ring? Do you contact your husband? Here.”
The Teenage twat put her phone in the Joker’s feminine hand and the Joker typed in the phone number and most of the message then held it up.
“Hay Sweatums, Its your Puddying, I’m in a hospital, room …” the Candy Striper read, “Oh yeah you need the Hospital name and room number. There sent.”
*
Barbara Gordon sat in the communal room of the penthouse apartment of the Clocktower building. Living across the street from the University was incredibly convenient, and dating the adopted son of the real owner made it easy for her to get an apartment. The fact that they both worked the same “Night Job” for the owner meant the rent was paid for and she had access to the “Special Attic Space” and the “Special Sub-basement” and all of the toys that the Bat kept in them. The tablet she used to monitor the apartment and the special computer terminal in the attic was on the coffee table next to her playing the latest pop top 40. The Katy Perry ode to Wonder Woman was distracting her from her IT management term paper but it was not nearly as bad as Lady Gaga’s song about Catwoman last year. The Tablet chirped an alert. Something triggered an automatic alert in the Batcomputer mainframe. Barbara raced up into the attic and looked at the Clocktower’s terminal screens. She slammed the panic button next to the mouse pad.
“Shit, that is every Jokerz, Circus crew, and set of Comedians that ever worked in anyway for the Joker!” Barbara said the anaylisis of the information aloud, “Plus a couple dozen we didn’t know about, and all in one mass text message! ‘Gotham General East, ICU wing! Full Riot’? This has to be big!”