After a night of dealing with unwieldy weirdos, it was a welcome sight to be sitting across from Red Hood. Strange as that sounded.
Despite the brutal reputation he'd first carved out for himself in Gotham, I found him far better company than John Constantine or the Question.
That might have also had something to do with the purpose of the meeting. We were here to formalize how his gang would integrate into the Union. Cobblepot and Harvey had complained loudly about my rather impromptu decision to grant them honorary status, so the work of figuring out what that actually meant had been shoved directly onto my plate.
Which, to be fair, was reasonable.
Thankfully, this had turned into basic bartering rather than legal or bureaucratic minutiae. Both of us were criminals, not lawyers, so the discussion mostly became horse trading over things like territory, autonomy, and a few hardline rules neither side was willing to budge on.
Cobblepot was probably not going to like the crates of cheap health potions I had promised to distribute in Red Hood's neighborhoods.
Beyond that, though, I thought I did pretty well.
The negotiations had largely been wrapped up anyway, so taking a small break seemed reasonable.
We were definitely not wasting time experimenting with potion cocktails.
"Whew!" Red Hood said, leaning back. "That's got a fucking kick. I like it."
"Really? I'm not a big fan of the ginger potion mixer we used to replace the ginger beer. I'd rate the Moscow mule copy at maybe a solid six."
"Do you not have taste buds? This would sell as a nine," Red Hood shot back, sounding genuinely offended.
"I'm starting to question your sense of taste, man. You put the spicy mojito at a four." I spread my hands in disbelief. "The mojito. Come on, it's the drink."
"Who wants spicy alcohol?" Red Hood said with open disgust. "It's supposed to taste good. Not burn."
"The burn does taste good!"
I could almost feel the eye roll behind his helmet as he stood and walked over to the fridge.
Tch. The idiot didn't know real taste.
I took another sip of the new masterpiece—a spicy mojito with a small amount of healing potion mixed in.
Damn, I'm good.
I leaned back into the couch.
Our impromptu negotiation had taken place inside a small apartment, the kind you'd expect to see in the lower-class districts of Gotham. Although I seriously doubted this place was actually an apartment.
One wall was completely covered in weapons. Pistols, rifles, and I even spotted an RPG mounted among them. Several nearby tables were cluttered with gunsmithing tools and partially disassembled weapons—tonfas, knives, and even a few swords. Other desks were packed with computers and open notebooks filled with notes.
The actual living space was minimal. A mattress lay on the floor beside a spartan little kitchen. The pullout table between us held my growing collection of experimental potion cocktails, colorful liquids lined up neatly in glass bottles.
The bright drinks sitting in the middle of what was obviously a safehouse made for a pretty funny contrast.
Still, the fact that I had been invited here at all felt like a solid show of faith.
"Did you have any other wondrous concoctions you wanted to test?" Red Hood strode back in and dropped into his seat with a bag of chips.
I looked over our little table of wonders and shook my head. "Nope. We've basically tried everything. Although… there is the prune juice extreme stomach aid…"
"Passss." Red Hood snorted immediately.
"Well then, I'm out of ideas. Now maybe if you were willing to loan me a few more of your boys to help with logistics, I might be convinced to send you a few more Moscow Mules…"
"Please. I already gave you a huge number of guys. You think you can fleece—"
Red Hood stopped mid-quip when his phone started ringing. He frowned when he saw who it was and waved a hand at me before walking away to answer it.
I gave him a thumbs up and started cleaning up the mess we'd made.
This had been fun, but he was probably about to deal with a mountain of crap the moment he finished that call. I had my own headaches waiting too. Some whispers from my men about the Religion of Crime and a huge guy in a luchador mask making waves around the city. On top of that, I still had to spend a few hours repairing equipment, building more refineries, or experimenting with new potion recipes.
Being a good boss meant the work never ended.
"What!?" Red Hood's voice suddenly jumped an octave. "Do you have a live feed!?" He rushed toward the desk covered in computers. "Send it the usual way."
He hung up and immediately started typing, fingers flying across the keyboard with manic speed. After one final keystroke, one of the monitors began booting up.
Red Hood hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed a cup.
"Should I go…?" I asked, a little confused.
Red Hood twitched and looked back at me like he'd forgotten I was even there. Then he started laughing.
"No," he said, still chuckling. "Pour me a drink and grab a seat. You're going to want to watch this."
I raised an eyebrow but carried a couple of drinks over anyway. He didn't elaborate and simply leaned forward in his chair, staring at the screen with open anticipation.
The monitor flickered to life, revealing a slum district near the water. The view was from above, probably a drone.
The camera quality was high enough that I immediately recognized the chalk-white skin and green hair of the Joker sprinting between buildings. Even from that distance, he was unmistakable.
Although he didn't look like the madman I usually pictured.
There were dozens of cuts across his body, and one of his eyes had swollen into an ugly purple bruise the size of an apple.
He was also missing both his shirt and his pants.
I had to hold in a snort as the Joker ran through the streets of Gotham, borderline streaking, wearing nothing but his briefs.
That alone would have been funny enough.
Unfortunately for him, the drone was giving us a perfect view of the chaos behind him.
Dozens of costumed figures were chasing the half-naked clown through the streets. I could only vaguely recognize a few of them from descriptions Cobblepot had given me.
Deathstroke was fighting some Asian woman with a sword, the two of them dueling while still sprinting after the Joker. On the rooftops above them, dozens of other masked lunatics were fighting each other as they ran.
A guy in a dark outfit suddenly swung down on a web, aiming straight for the Joker.
A discus whistled through the air and smashed the spider assassin out of the sky.
I watched a boomerang spin toward the Joker's crotch before suddenly jerking off course.
Someone had actually shot the boomerang.
A man in full ninja gear burst out of a sewer grate and lasted maybe half a second before knives, blades, and another boomerang ended him before he could even reach the clown.
"AHHHHHH!!" The Joker leapt over the freshly downed assassin and kept running in pure terror.
I stared at the screen.
What in the Gotham-fucking hell am I watching?
"Run, you bastard! Run!" Red Hood was cackling like a madman, barely able to control himself as we watched the Joker's desperate escape. He turned toward me. "Like seeing your handiwork?"
I paused, and then the memory hit me like a bolt of lightning.
The conversation I'd had with Ivy.
Oh… oh.
"Hahahaha!" I slapped my knees. "She really went and did it!"
When I'd talked to Ivy earlier, I had mostly been playing devil's advocate. Seeing the scene unfold in real time made it very clear she had taken the suggestion seriously.
"While I'd love to hear the story behind that," Red Hood said, raising his glass, "first things first."
I smiled, clinked my glass against his, and we both drank before turning back to the screen.
Watching it felt like a close sports game. Every time someone got close to the goal, another lunatic would leap into their way. I had already lost count of how many times someone had been smacked aside at the last second.
"Who do you think gets the prize first?" I asked.
"Like I care." Red Hood took another drink while staring at the screen in fascination. "But I'll give the bastard a pat on the back and maybe even a free pass."
Well, might as well make it interesting.
"Fifty bucks says Deathstroke gets the win."
I mostly picked him because he was one of the few people I actually recognized in the chaos.
Red Hood's helmet snapped toward me.
"Ohh… we're betting now, huh?" He leaned forward. "Hundred on Lady Shiva." He pointed toward the Asian woman gracefully dismantling several other pursuers while still chasing the Joker.
"Speaking from personal experience?"
"Ha, something like that," Red Hood chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen her take a loss."
"We'll see about that." I slapped the cash onto the table.
Red Hood tossed his own money beside it.
"Your loss. Don't—"
He suddenly paused, staring hard at the screen.
"Tch. Couldn't sit this one out, could you?"
I followed his gaze until my eyes landed on one of the rooftops. Several black-clad ninjas were getting taken down one after another.
Seeing it from above really emphasized the skill involved.
The dark figure stepped off the building.
My first real look at the Bat came as he descended into full view, cape spreading wide around him as he glided down toward the brawl of assassins chasing the Joker.
Watching the scene unfold gave me a sudden, very funny idea.
"Two hundred says the Bat does it." I dropped the extra cash onto the table.
Red Hood twitched at the bet before shaking his head.
"Ha. As if that stubborn bastard would." He leaned back. "Never in a million years. You're on."
So we both turned back to the screen as Batman descended into the chaos.
The man deserved his reputation. I gave a low whistle as he started dismantling combatants one by one. Even with dozens of fighters present, the Bat was clearing them out with ruthless efficiency.
The crowd chasing the Joker rapidly shrank until only a handful remained instead of the earlier parade of people aiming for the clown's balls.
As if sensing the shift, the Joker suddenly turned around.
"BATSY!" the Joker screamed.
Lady Shiva sprinted forward to take him down.
Batman was briefly locked hand-to-hand with Deathstroke before casually tossing a batarang toward Lady Shiva.
Shiva leaned back and dodged the weapon with effortless grace.
Yet as the batarang spun through the air, something strange happened.
Maybe it was just bad luck.
For a brief moment, Lady Shiva's body blocked the Joker's view of Batman. When she shifted aside to avoid the weapon, the clown's eyes locked straight onto the Bat, completely unaware of the spinning blade completing its arc.
Almost as if fate itself had ordained it, the batarang flew perfectly true.
And what happened then?
Well, in Gotham, they say the Joker's crotch lost three sizes that day.
"GYAAAHHHHHH!"
A loud crash sounded beside me as Red Hood fell out of his chair.
"Hahahahahaha!"
[Feat Achieved! Jonkler? More Like Junk Less]
[+1 Silver Gacha Ticket]
The chaotic brawl abruptly halted as the remaining assassins seemed to realize the prize had been lost.
Even through the camera feed, I could see Batman standing completely still.
He looked genuinely baffled by what had just happened.
"AHHHHH!!!!" The Joker continued to writhe on the ground.
Red Hood continued to cackle.
"Oh… oh, I'm never letting him live this down!"
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.