The junkyard beside the canal looked like a black mountain range piled high with scrap metal and rotting waste.
Batman landed atop a rusty shipping container, his cape hanging in the sour night wind. Below him, dozens of industrial gas tanks lay in a crooked heap, each painted bright purple and green. Hoses from their outlets converged on a modified steampunk-style spray valve.
The valve was still running, wheezing like an asthmatic as it pumped pale green mist into the air, like an infection that kept this city rotting.
Clown sat atop the spraying apparatus, swinging his legs.
He wore a brand-new purple suit. His hair had clearly been plastered with enough gel to keep it motionless in the night wind, and, for once, he had dyed it purple. His face was painted deathly white, his scarlet lips stretched into a grin that reached his ears, but his eyes were unnaturally manic in the dim light. Terrifyingly manic.
"Batman!"
Clown spread his arms as though welcoming an old friend. "I knew you'd come! You want to play a grand game with me too, don't you?"
Batman said nothing. He leaped down from the container, sending a ring of dust billowing from beneath his feet as he landed.
"Oh, don't be so serious!" Clown hopped down from the valve and patted a gas tank beside him. "Look at this! Long-lasting happiness with sustained release, designed by yours truly, absolutely free! Complimentary smiles for the entire city!"
He paced around the apparatus, running his fingers over the cold metal like an artist introducing his work.
"I've been wondering, Batman. Why do people always save happiness for weekends, for holidays, for things worth celebrating?"
Clown turned around and spread his hands. "That's so stingy! Happiness should be everywhere, just like air! Anytime, anywhere!