GCN Special Update (Open)

[Joe Kerr]

It was Thursday. The most boring day of the week, in this newscaster's opinion. nothing happened on Thursday. Nothing came on TV, except him, and his wife always fixed Ravioli on Thursday. Canned Ravioli.

Hm. I wonder if it's the beef or the cheese tonight?

The Sports Guy, Hu Cayrs, finished telling everyone how the Gotham Francs failed to win yet another game of Lacrosse. Really how hard was it to win at Lacrosse? How many cities had Lacrosse teams? Was there really even a National Lacrosse League? The NLL?

What kind of stupid name is "NLL"?

"Thanks, Hu. In other news tonight, resident Katie Bloherd turned 112 today, making her the oldest citizen of Gotham in history. Her family and friends gathered around her as she sang Happy Birthday and blew out a cake with an astonishing amount of candles on it." He said to the camera. He knew that the people at home were watching the same video he was watching as an old, wrinkly woman blew out a giant cake shaped like the number 112 with exactly 112 candles on it with ease. The Camera cut back to him.

"The aging singer was quoted, saying 'I hope to live another 112 years in this city. It's given me the gumption to forget my worries and just sing the blues away'. Well, Katie, we hope you live another 112 years as well, and that we all get to witness it later on. Ha ha ha." he and his co-anchors chuckled at the written joke, as they were intended to. A loud banging noise came from outside the hall, and Jack thought that maybe one of the tech guys had fallen.

The door burst open, and a commotion erupted off the set, getting everyone's attention. The televisions of everyone who watched GCN at 6 o'clock were interrupted for a second. And then they came back. Jack was visibly sweating, sitting in the Co-Anchor chair. The new face in the Head Anchor chair was one that all of Gotham knew. That they all feared.

"Good evening, Gotham," The clown said. "Well, it's a new day. I'd just like to thank you all for your time, first of all, and secondly, I want to play a game. Now that I'm out of that... boring Asylum, I'd just like to experience what it is to be free again! So here's the rules. I get a member of Gotham PD down here soon for my new.... Talk Show....." He paused, pushing the Anchor out of the screen. "Or the little boys and girls in the East End get a little surprise visit from a friend of mine. Maybe a few. Either way, Someone's gonna be having fun! You have thirty minutes."

Jack watched the crazed man as he grinned. The Joker turned to the mild-mannered anchor for the local News Station, smiling. He pushed his hair out of his face before patting the anchor on the back. He was scared, and Joker could see that. It made him..... happy, in a way.

"Shhhh ShushShushShShShh." He moved behind the Anchor, placing both gloved hands on the man's shoulders. "You scared, Jack?" The man nodded.

"Well, you shouldn't be... You see, I don't really wanna kill you.... Hurt you, maybe, but kill you? Nah, Nah, Nah." Joker moved away from the desk itself, walking around it. He moved in front of it, hopping from the step that the Desk sat on. "Killing you, just..... doesn't sound like fun! You see, right now, you're the Bargaining chip! You're my ticket to the Bat."

"Why-Why're you telling me all this?" The man whimpered.

"Why not? Why shouldn't the audience know the ins and outs of the production? Every big show needs a man behind the scenes to keep things running smoothly! And you," Joker leaned forward on the desk, looking at Jack closely. "Are my number one.... Guy...."

[Batman]

The Batman was in the Bat Cave recuperating from his recent escapades in the East End of town when Alfred, who truly earned the title of his eyes and ears this night, informed him of the situation happening on channel fourteen, Gotham’s Place for News, GNC. The Batman only watched the Joker dance about the room in mocking demented glee for about a second before his cowl was already back over his head. There would be no rest for the weary in this city, especially with the Joker back in town. The city could not afford it. Every minute that man walked free was another chance for wanton and mass destruction while the sociopath tried to prove a point to the Dark Knight.

In a way, it was a game of chess to the man. But for him, everyone was expendable from pawn to king, all could, all would and all should be destroyed. This was the only trick up the Joker’s sleeve that the Batman had still left to deduce. Was the Joker’s death wish, suicide by Bat, if you will his ultimate goal or a means to an end? Was it that he could not face the music himself so he brought about the mechanism of his own destruction by way of the cowl-covered crusader, or was it that, and this was the solution he currently favored, the very fact that the Caped Crusader had an psychologically imposed prohibition on murder enough of a treat that the Joker would die, quite violently, just to get that one, final laugh before his curtain call.

The Batman took the Bat cycle, which was all that was left of the tumbler after him and the Joker’s last vehicular rendezvous. He would have to see what other modes of transportation Fox had in storage in case this one also suffered catastrophic incident involving a well placed rocket.

Seven minutes. That’s how long the city has to give into the mad clown’s demands before all Hell breaks loose. Unfortunately for the Joker, the GCPD did not cave and send in one of Gotham’s finest in for his candid little interview. The Batman had elected to send himself. He decided to make his entrance grand. His engine roaring as he sped up an adjacent parking garage whipping through it as he sped toward the studio.

KER-RAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!

It was then that the Bat cycle slammed through a window it skid on its side for about twenty yards before hitting a couch. Thankfully, the fuel tank doesn’t cause immolation on impact. The trouble was there was nothing attached to it. The Caped Crusader had brought his bike but not himself to this little get together. Of course, to paraphrase, ‘With the Batman, it’s never that simple.’ The bike was simply a decoy. A brief flare up of distraction to herald the real deal. The Bat came through just after his cycle made its own grade entrance, following its path through the shattered glass in a gust of cape and latex.

He didn’t speak; he didn’t have to. Both men knew the drill; knew the score by now. There was no turning back from this. Each had guaranteed it for the other in their own way.

The Joker would not yield an inch after the Batman first put on a mask and tried to show the city that it was better than itself. But the Clown Prince would continue fighting on, leaving piles of chard corpses in his wake until the Batman was lured in, for he was but chaos.

The Batman would not yield an inch after the Joker first put on make-up and tried to show the city that it was worse than ever. But the Caped Crusader would continue pressing on, leaving no stone unturned until the Joker was brought in, for he was but justice.

Hoping that the motorcycle stunt would serve as a momentary lapse for the man who was increasingly becoming his arch foe, the Batman, in his first moments of surprise, uses his head. Regardless of whether the Clown was preoccupied or staring him eyeball to blood-shot eyeball, the Dark Knight lets out his first attack of the evening with a skull-cracking, neck-whipping head butt.

[Joe Kerr]

Jack was a coward. It was just that simple. He knew 'em when he saw 'em, and he didn't like cowards. Not one bit.

"C'mon, Jack, Grow some Balls! Go take care of the Camera! Keep it going!" Joker threw Jack over the Anchor's desk before moving out of camera view. He stood in front of the doorway into the filming area, waiting for the Bat. Or the Cops, whichever they preferred. Of course, if the Bat showed up, the Cops wouldn't be too far behind, since he'd made the entire city hate the Caped Crusader.

"C'mon.... C'mon, you gruesome son of a bitch!" he mumbled, fiddling with a the knife he had partially hidden in his sleeve. "Daddy's waiting.....!" Of course, he got bored easily with waiting on someone to show. To occupy his time, Joker went around, terrorizing those still alive after he had broken in (Which was a remarkably large number of people, given his track record!). A few screamed, a few whimpered. Nothing special, really.

That is, until the Bat decided to drop in. With a Motorcycle. His "Bat-cycle". Joker didn't have time to react to his friend dropping in so unexpectedly, as the Batman slammed their heads together. He was lucky to make it out of that headbutt with both eyes in their sockets, what with the pointy ear things going on.

"You know, That's just plain fighting dirty! I must be rubbing off on you!" Joker shook his head quickly, his make-up smeared on his forehead. The black of the Batman's "Helmet" (It's not really a mask, now that I think about it...) was tarnished by the white make-up Joker enjoyed wearing. He didn't wait long to retaliate, however, as he lunged at the Dark Knight with his knife. Joker didn't expect to do much in the way of hurting him. No, no no no, He actually wanted to see if the Bat would beat the ever living shit outta him, or if he'd show mercy and simply leaving him dangling over a building again!

[Batman]

He didn’t have time for the big picture. The hostages would have to wait until the clown was incapacitated. No goons, at least none that he’s seen yet. The Joker’s gotten over confident, or poor. Either way it was a one-on-one fight, which was good. They both savored this sort of thing. While the Joker got a sick thrill out of cutting up nursing home residents; for the Batman, it was equally euphoric to return him the favor by turning his mouth into piano keys.

The lanky laugher lunched at the Dark Knight with a knife. A particularly nasty variation at that. Brass knuckles married to blade. As the Joker’s arm moved forward the sound of metal scrapping metal echoed across the rooms’ acoustics as the blade of the Clown slid across the spiked metal-bracers of the Cowl with a sharp siiiinkt.

Gotham’s protector decided to try some psychology on the Joker. Throw him off his game long enough to get in that final blow just that much earlier. Himself, the Joker and hostages meant that the arrival of the boys in blue was inevitable and he needed to leave as quickly as possible. Of course, given both of their reputations they might be unduly cautious. In any event, Batman touched his forehead with a gloved hand, wiping his fingers across it before presenting his palm, his fingers stained in white, to the Joker. His words were dry but for a purpose.

“You are.”, he growled in a particularly low inflection.

The Batman’s body reordered itself into a fighting stance. He pivoted, danced a bit like a boxer. His muscles tensed up like a jack-in-the-box about to spring open. Hopefully the remark, so out of character for the usually stoic man, would cause a pause, a laugh, anything in his opponent and for that he was prepared. The Caped Crusader still kept the Joker at arm’s reach. He was not going to grapple him if he can help it. There was no telling what was up his sleeve and at those proximities any desperation measure he had would come out from poison to teeth marks.

[Joe Kerr]

The blade of his knife slicked across the arm guards of the Bat. It was an enjoyable sound, but not the one he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear the rip of the fabric, the sound of his "Utility Belt" clinking as the dead body fell to the floor with a Thump. He wanted to unmask the masked after he bled out. But he also knew that he couldn't kill the Bat. No, in his soul, Joker knew that he wanted to come close to killing the Bat, but never make the final lunge.

“You are.” The Bat, making Jokes? Something wasn't right here. The Bat was usually predictable, stoic, and not at all the laughing type. Why make wise cracks now? Then he understood after the Batman began to dance around like Mohammad Ali. Psychological Warfare?

Right up your Alley.

Joker dropped his hands to his sides, mimicking his rival's motions. He danced around on the top of his feet in his dress shoes, mocking him. He tossed his head from side to side, stretching his neck muscles. He could hear Jack whimpering off to the side. He hoped that the fool was filming this whole thing. Once the people saw how afraid the Police were of the Batman and himself, then they would lose hope in them. They already saw how the Police didn't send in one man to simply talk, and now they were watching as the Batman - a wanted murderer thanks to Dent - battled a man who desired so much attention, that he dressed as a clown.

"If we're gonna role play, then why don't you put on the make up, and I put on your sexy cowl? Do the girls go crazy for the horns?"

[Batman]

While the Joker hoped for a laugh, or a scream in the case of his victims, the Batman hoped for an entirely different sound as he drove his knee upward toward the clown’s nostrils: the sound of cracking bone and sinew. He was not going to pull punches with the Joker; the man was much too dangerous. It wasn’t a threat of the body; he needed guns and bombs and knives to be a physical threat. It was a threat to the mind. The Joker was right, although the Batman would never admit it to his old foe: the man was ahead of the curve. He was a harbinger of what was to come since he came to town the criminals out of desperation or opportunity seem to have gotten more bizarre every week, from the relatively mild like a mob-boss who disguises his firearms as umbrellas to a woman who seemed to be bent on an omnicidal quest toward everything by flora. The Batman let out a quick one-two punch when he decided to act.


The S.W.A.T. team Gordon certainly sent would inevitably arrive but that was the problem. Now his plan made sense. He never intended the police to beat his rival to the scene. This was what it must be all about. They would show up, Batman would be killed, or at least wounded, definitely unmasked on live television, and the Joker would not only know his foe but would thereafter have free reign of the city while Wayne rotted in a prison cell.

He need to get both himself and the Joker away from here before they came. Their fight was not yet over, and the Dark Knight wasn’t about to leave the Joker conscious just to be thrown back out on the street. If they were going to take him in, it would be on a stretcher. He shot his grappling hook out the window which soon latched onto something on the other side, hopefully it was strong. He’d have to take his chances that the Joker wouldn’t stab him as they swung. He certainly wouldn’t leave the man alone. Without the Bat, the Joker would just slaughter the civilians on live television all the while mocking the city’s protector for giving up on it . Not caring how the tabloids would spin something like this, he bull-rushed the laughing man crashing through the window for the second time. Soon, the Batman and the Joker shot across the skyline to the adjacent building and the Caped Crusader motioned with his hand to continue the ballet.

[Joe Kerr]

Joker wasn't sure what had happened in that split second where everything had both went right and wrong at the same time. He saw black, then white, and then the next thing he knew, he felt a warm fluid on his face and they were in a new building. The pain struck him almost immediately after the Bat had stopped(or, rather, slowed) his assault on the Clown Prince of Crime, just in time for Joker to stumble backwards away from it all.

He held a purple-gloved hand to his nose, holding it for a moment. It hurt like hell to push it straight again, but somehow, he wasn't sure how, but somehow he did it. The blood dripped onto the ground, onto his suit, and onto his shoes, taking small bits of make up with it. At the same time, however, the red of the blood made the red of his make up seem to become even more demented, seemingly turning demonic as it lowered from that glasgow grin into a pointed smile.

"Now that," Joker paused, shaking his head clear of the fog from the attack. "Was just plain unfair, Bats."

Joker threw a punch, swinging his entire body at the Batman, trying to get all of his weight behind it. It was easy to dodge, he knew, but, that was the brilliance of such a poor fighting style. Once he was flying past his enemy, Joker could easily pull out a knife or a gun hidden in his lapel and simply end it right then and there.


But what fun would that be?

"Why do you constantly insist on getting in the way of things, huh, Bats? Even by taking the fight here, don't you see that those poor folks watching their TV screens right now saw you leave that poor, poor man alone in that room! Why, what if I'd stock piled the room with explosives, like I did Dent, huh?"

[Batman]

As the Joker reset the bones in his shattered nose, the Batman’s head dipped back and forth, cracking a bit. “You shoot up nursing homes for kicks. You deserve every bone I shatter.”, the Batman growled. It was probably the reaction he wanted: to goad him into doing something rash. To finally trip over the edge that the Joker had long ago fallen from.

Maybe it was his own daze for crashing through a glass window for the second time in twenty minutes or perhaps he was feinting weakness to draw the Joker in, either way he fell. The Batman came crashing down falling on his arms like he was about to crabwalk. He kicked upwards from the floor aiming at the Joker’s right knee. His force was just enough to send him back a bit, to give the Batman time to get back on his own two feet.

“You’re crazy Joker, not stupid. You wouldn’t dare endanger yourself. You’re too much of a coward for suicide and if I had just let Gotham P.D. show up what would have been your escape plan? A hail of bullets? We both know that wouldn’t be your ideal end. I am that end.”

He found the Dent comment to be an interesting bit of psychology. Was he just trying to bring back painful memories of his turning to barbarism before he was killed? Or was he just bringing him up for the sake of Rachael? Of course, it could just be a coded way of saying that he knew the truth about Harvey, he probably did. This was a round-about way of taunting him with it. Of course Batman himself was doing the same thing. He knew from the discriptions of his behavior that Joker hated being called on his mental illness and had a distinct loathing of cowardice.