The man stared out at Gotham city through the large paned glass of his apartment’s window. Blue and red lights flashed below as a police car dashed by. No doubt he would be on the scene soon after. This time, The Batman would not win. This time, The Joker was going to defeat him, once and for all.

The Joker turned his gaze back to the inside of his apartment. He perused the scrawls scattered about the entire back wall; plots against his nemesis, diagrams of various torture methods, an infinite number of options, every angle covered. This time, he could not lose.

He moved into the bathroom and studied himself in the mirror. The scars dragging from his mouth, up his cheeks; delivered onto him in his childhood, stood out. Fuel for his ever present rage, they also presented an extra dimension to the fear his insanity inspired in his victims.

He splashed cool water on his face, then began applying the makeup that hid his true identity. He put on the face that inspired such terror in the citizens of Gotham, and had done for years. He donned the purple jacket he always wore, pocketed a glock pistol in the inside pocket of his jacket, and then another for good measure. He slid a knife up both sleeves, and held his army knife in the palm of his hand. The blade clicked out at his touch and he flipped it in his hand. He hurled it at the wall where it planted itself in the forehead of a portrait of Batman.


The Joker had his face hidden beneath a hood as he entered the bank. He fingered the grip of a glock as he joined the back of the queue. It moved quickly and soon he was face to face with the serving girl. She looked up and waited for his request.

“I need money” he said.

“How much?” the girl asked.

“All of it”.

“Excuse me?”

“All of it”.

“Sir could you please lower your hood?”

“I’d rather not”.

“I shall have to call security if you refuse”.

The Joker reached up, and with a smile he lowered the hood he wore. He brought the glock out from its place inside his jacket.

“Now give me all the money”.

The girl’s jaw dropped as the fear began to fill her eyes”.


“Give. Me. The. Money”. He cocked the pistol and smashed the pane of glass separating them.

He ignored the gasps and looks of horror from the surrounding patrons, focusing his attention on the girl. A shout echoed from behind him.

“Sir, lower your weapon” one of the guards yelled.

The Joker sighed, spun on his heel and planted a bullet in the man’s eye socket. He spun back to the girl.

“The money?”

“Right away sir”.

She gestured for one of the men behind the desks, and he scurried off to retrieve the money. Another guard arrived behind him, but he dispatched him with a slash of a knife. His throat ripped open, blood spurted out and he collapsed.

The man returned with the money, and the girl passed him out several cash bags. The Joker smiled, shot the girl, turned and began to walk out. A group of police entered, and they formed ranks, rifles pointed toward The Joker. He dropped a smoke bomb, and the smoke rose up and hid him.

Finally, the smoke cleared, and the police could see. The Joker was gone.

The End

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