they hardly touch the ground

[manofmyword]

At five minutes to five, the Joker is waiting next to a tied-up accountant on top of a large pile of money. This is going to be so much fun.

Comments

[manofmyword]

"Ah-ah-ah," the Joker cautions. Is that a gun in his hand? Why yes it is! And is he pointing it at the Chechen? Why yes he is!

"And you know the thing that they have in common?" he says, stepping closer again, gesturing conspiratorially with the gun.

"They'rre cheap."

[gothamscitizens]

He freezes when the gun comes out, clenches his teeth on his cigar.

"You said you were a man of your word."

[manofmyword]

"Oh, I am," he murmurs, plucking the cigar out of the Chechen's mouth and blowing on the end a couple of times.

Louder, as he turns away: "I'm only burning my half."

He lines up and throws it directly onto a puddle of gas, then turns back with a faint smile as the flames catch.

"All you care about is money," he says, soft and disappointed. "This town deserves a better class'a criminal, and I'm gonna give it to 'em. Tell your men they work for me now. This is my city."

[gothamscitizens]

The sight of all that money burning is practically tragic.

More than that, though, it doesn't bode well for the Chechen.

He swallows and rasps in the Joker's face, "They won't work for a freak."

[manofmyword]

"Freak," the Joker spits back at him in a halfhearted imitation of his accent and an exquisite imitation of his contempt.

"Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches?" he suggests, producing a knife from somewhere in his jacket. "Hm? And then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is."

The minions come up to haul the Chechen away. "It's not about money," the Joker explains, although it's debatable whether anyone is listening. "It's about... sending a message." He pulls a phone out of his pocket; dials.

Cheerfully: "Everything burns..."

[gothamscitizens]

The phone on the other end rings once before it's picked up.

"GCN. Name, please?"

[manofmyword]

"Cindy," he says, sounding amiable and elderly and female.

[gothamscitizens]

"Thanks for calling, Cindy. What's your question for Mr. Reese?"

[manofmyword]

(Was that a faint scream? The sound of crackling flames? Surely not.)

"I just want to know if he's really thought this through," says 'Cindy'. Confidingly: "These young fellas never think about the consequences."

[gothamscitizens]

"All right, hold please, Cindy, I'll transfer you."

Smooth jazz fills the line for a moment, then--

"Caller," says Mike Engels, "you're on the air."

[manofmyword]

He drops the old lady act.

"Hiii, Gotham. Didja miss me?"

[gothamscitizens]

In the studio, Reese looks confused.

Engels remembers that video, though. Vividly.

"Who is this?"

[manofmyword]

"I had a visionn," the Joker begins. "Of a world without a Bat. The mob ground out a little profit, and the police tried to shut them down one block at a time. And it was so..." he pauses, as though searching for the right word, "boring."

"I've had a change of heart. I don't want Mr. Reese spoiling everything – but why should I have all the fun? Let's give someone else a chance! If Coleman Reessse isn't dead in sixty minutes, then I blow up a hospital."

[gothamscitizens]

Reese goes pale.

The studio audience gasps. Engels' producer behind the cameras starts for the stage. "Someone get security, call the cops--"

"Why did you change your mind?" Engels says quickly, over the sudden clamor in the studio. This is the story of the goddamn year, if he can just keep the guy on the line before his asshole of a producer yells cut.

[manofmyword]

"Angling for an interview?" he purrs. "Be careful what you wish for."

[gothamscitizens]

"This--"

"Cut that goddamn phone line!" the producer yells. "What the fuck are you doing, Mike, trying to start a panic?"

With a sharp click, the phone line goes dead.