The Joker

Ten years later, Illinois.

Ever since Captain America, the world's first superhero, had been rescued from nearly seventy years frozen beneath the sea and successfully thawed, the world had grown increasingly dangerous and complicated. It was as if all manner of monsters had suddenly appeared overnight. And, in turn, superheroes had emerged, as though they were born to be their opponents.

The most famous among them was Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, one of America's largest weapons manufacturers—a playboy and billionaire. After being kidnapped in Afghanistan, he had built a mechanical suit and escaped from the terrorists. Having survived a series of dangers, he then announced to the world's media that he was Iron Man, causing a worldwide sensation.

Next, in Vice City, America's other center of aviation, railways, and scientific research—Gotham City—a vigilante called Batman had appeared. Clad in a Bat-suit, he struck at criminals, appearing and disappearing mysteriously in the dead of night. People around the world, and across the USA, were thrilled, yet couldn't help wondering: What was happening to the world? Why had so many supermen suddenly appeared?

"Damn it!" In broad daylight, inside a restaurant in downtown Gotham City, a group of thuggish-looking mob bosses sat together, fuming as they discussed everything that had happened recently.

"What the hell's happened to the world lately? First, some billionaire starts whooshing back and forth through the sky, then this damn freak in a bat costume shows up at night!" one boss with Mexican ancestry cursed. "We can't even do business anymore!"

"It's only temporary," said another boss, a white man who looked far more calculating. "Whether it's a billionaire or some nighttime freak, it's not so easy for them to come after us! We have people in the government, the police, and the courts. They want to come after us? Ha ha..."

"A toast to the beautiful world of capitalism!" said the cunning, sinister white boss.

"Yeah!" the thugs chimed in one after another.

On a laptop in the middle of the table, a middle-aged Chinese man said, "Boss Manoni is right. As long as the money we have is put to safe and effective use, none of this will be a problem!"

"And, gentlemen, my company's accounts and vaults are the safest of all. You can trust me completely with your money..."

One of the eight bosses, a Black man, replied, "But yesterday, one of your cash depots was robbed! In broad daylight, by some guy in a ridiculous blue outfit and a clown-like mask! Mr. Liu, what do you have to say about that?"

"That's right, Boss Gambo's got a point. Yesterday, some guy in a cheap, ridiculous blue suit and gloves, with his face painted like a clown, made off with our money. Sixty-eight million, Mr. Liu! Don't you owe us an explanation?" The other bosses glared at the Chinese man, their expressions menacing.

The Chinese man's expression darkened slightly, but he still spoke unhurriedly. "I've heard about it. The loss was neither too great nor too small... Listen, gentlemen, banks may indeed be somewhat unsafe, but I've already come up with another comprehensive solution. We'll move all the money to a safe place that no one but me knows about. That way, the police won't be able to track your funds, and even the clowns lurking inland, waiting to rob us, won't be able to find our money!"

"But what makes you think Batman won't come looking for you?" a comical, hysterical voice cut in. "When he finds you, interrogates you, beats you, do you really think you can keep that secret? By then..."

Amid the mobsters' murderous, furious glares, a man in a blue suit with clown makeup on his face walked into the restaurant and boldly took a seat across from the bosses.

"...it won't just be sixty-eight million it'll cost you. It'll be everything! All your money..." He blew out a twitchy breath.

"Damn it, you actually dare show your face in front of us!" the most hot-tempered Black boss roared. "You think you can rob us without paying the price..." At his command, the underlings around them pulled out their guns.

"No, no, no~" The Joker opened his jacket. Rows of high explosives beneath it instantly sent the mobsters recoiling as if from a snake. They wanted to kill him, but feared the consequences; the hands holding their guns trembled slightly.

"I advise you all not to upset these little guys," the Joker said in a nervous voice. "They're quite powerful, and they're connected to my heart. If anything were to happen to me... heh heh~~"

"What exactly do you want?" asked the head of the Manoni family, the most calculating of the bosses, holding back his anger. His voice was ominously cold. "Did you come here to provoke us? To provoke all the underground kings of Gotham City?"

The Joker scoffed. "Underground kings? Maybe once! But now..." He gave a flippant whistle.

"Fuck!" The hot-tempered mobsters couldn't take it anymore.

"Hold on, hold on." The Joker chuckled again, his blood-red mouth looking even more sinister. "Ladies and gentlemen, I only said all that to clear up our relationship. I'm a good man, always happy to lend a hand and help those in need. I'm not your enemy. Your real enemy should be the one who, ahem, made you hide away in broad daylight to hold... a gathering. Sorry, if you think that sounds better! Okay, okay, calm down, everybody calm down. The enemy of all of us—the enemy of all you underground kings of Gotham City—should be that Batman in his ridiculous outfit and silly helmet! Yes, that's who I mean: Batman!" The Joker giggled. "A, uh, superhero?"

"Bang!" Gambo, the Black boss who controlled half of Gotham City's drug trade, finally slammed his hand on the table. "Enough! I've heard enough of this guy's bullshit. First, he steals all our money, then strolls in here to tell us he's not our enemy and that some Batman is? Damn it, do you think we're idiots? We can't see through such a simple trick to set the wolf against the tiger? Fuck! Why not blame that Stark guy, too? You're one of Batman's targets, just like us! Don't think you can fool us by acting like a lunatic! If you're really not afraid of Batman, why come here and spout all this nonsense?"

The Joker didn't flinch. He kept smiling. (He had no choice; the bosses present had all noticed that the bloody gash of a mouth on his face had actually been carved with a knife.) "No, no, no, gentlemen, you've got one thing wrong. I'm not doing this for myself. I'm doing it for all of you. Compared to me, does Batman hate you mob bosses more, or is he more likely to chase after an insignificant nobody like me?"

The mobsters in the room had no answer to the Joker's words. He grinned triumphantly. "Besides," he chuckled, "that's not how you do things. If someone can do something—and actually get it done—shouldn't they receive a proper reward for it, gentlemen?"

The other bosses finally understood what he meant. Doug, the Mexican-American, gave a humorless smile. "So, how much do you want?"

He glanced at the Chinese man surnamed Liu, who was still attending the meeting by video call.

The Chinese man stared at all the bosses present, his face dark. He had thought these underworld bosses wouldn't go along with this lunatic's nonsense. But even the most calculating white boss, the new head of the Manoni family, said, "If you really pull it off, I think we can be friends!"

The Joker smiled. More terrifying than his makeup was the chaos of his thoughts, impossible to predict. He licked his lips and cried out in a frenzy, "Then it's a deal, gentlemen! I take out Batman, and half of all your money goes to me! Wahahaha~~"