Terra Firma

Joker

"Why so serious, good monsuiers? A ha hee hee ho ho..."

I whistled, staring into the bathroom mirror at my face. I put Ivy to bed, tucking her in carefully, staring at her pale princess face, pausing to kiss her gently and smudge my lipstick on her snow-white flesh.

The princess is the dragon. And the prince wears lipstick. Would he live happily ever after? Or would he kill her?

Boy, we were one fucked up fairytale.

"Bathroom's too shiny..." I squinted, making a face in the mirror, staring at my distorted face in the faucet. I opened my mouth, staring at my crooked yellow teeth. I hated my reflection. A familiar spark went off in my brain and I giggled, opening the mirror and throwing whatever was in it to the floor.

Cotton swabs, eyeliner pencil, nail polish. Blah blah blah. Unraveled the toilet paper, watching soft whiteness spill to the tile floor, licking my lips. Remembering the first time she'd touched my face, watching goosebumps pop up on the whiteness of her skin, wanting to make more, but in a different way...

Did I really just say that? Those lifetime movies she'd make me watch back at the hotels were getting to me.

I took some of the nail polish and drew on the mirror, poured peroxide down the sink, slapped hand sanitizer on my jagged nails and clapped my hands.

"If you're happy and you know it..."

Hey.

Where did that Happy kid go anyways?

Probably dead or on drugs or something. Caught up in another vicious cycle.

Jay

DO DO DO DO DO DOOOO DO DO DO DODDODODODODOOO!

"Fah!" I groaned, opening my heavy eyelids and reaching clumsily for my cell phone. Why the hell do they make those ringtones so annoying, anyway?

I'd been half asleep when Angel left, carrying a sleeping Homer in her arms and reassuring Cosette that she'd be alright. I remember vaguely dreaming about an earthquake in Gotham Memorial Park...

Oh my God. As Douglas Adams once said, I felt as if my head had been smashed in by a lemon wrapped around a rather large gold brick.

"Nnnnyugh?" I rubbed my face, speaking into my phone.

"Gambol," Gordon said urgently, "Get out of the bottom of that damn bottle, son, we got something."

"Uh, got what now?"

"A riddle."

"Oh yeah, that's fucking great, Gordon. Just amazing. We got about a million in a box."

"But this one is... in our language."

I jumped off the couch, out of the door faster than I could down a shot, load a gun.

It doesn't matter if you hate rap. We're all gangsters at heart, hustling for the money, hustling for the fame, the knowledge, the love of our lives. Climbing our ladders, swinging our guns, living through madness and talking faster than we can think.

"I'm out." I called to Cosette down the hall. She probably wasn't listening, probably in her little world, writing out words that fit together oddly but somehow came together perfect.

I'm out. Out to solve another puzzle.

And I had yet to solve my own.

Riddle

"Get out of my bar."

Two-Face stared at me lividly, snarling and pointing his finger firmly towards the outdoors.

"Why?"

"You'll lead the cops here, that's why."

"No, no. They're distracted by something else right now..." I dusted my emerald suit off obsessively, afraid there were germs on it. I pulled at my white gloves.

His suit was... interesting. One side looked like he was ready for the courtroom, the other like he was a million-dollar pimp.

All the legendary criminals wore suits. It was just an unspoken rule, lay down by The Joker. He'd started the trend, and we paid homage to him.

Where was that dirty old dog anyway?

"...You see..." I began to Dent, pulling out a cigarette and tapping my cane to forget old memories, "The explosion is nothing right now. Because I've led them down another path. And by the time they get down cleaning up the mess, it'll be a cold trail."

"You think you're smart, don't you?" He sneered at me.

I smiled confidently, "I think, therefore I am," my sharp eyes suddenly snapped to something in his hand, "What's that?"

"Lipstick."

"Didn't know you were into that."

"Shut your mouth. It's hers."

We were silent. I knew immediately what he was talking about. Every underground crook did when someone said, "she" or "her" like that. She was a holy, revered thing in this town. A Goddess--something untouched and merciless, wicked and sadistic, and all the while we spoke of her like a mother.

"So... they're back in town, are they?"

"No shit." He chuckled, flipping his coin absentmindedly, "So... you ready for your first little job, mob rookie?"

I rapped my cane sharply on the ground and Two-Face jumped. Only slightly, but still a jump. I grinned.

"Don't call me rookie. I am The Riddler. And only The Riddler. I'm only working with you. Not for you."

He shrugged, "You still get your chance at death. Even The Joker and Ivy had theirs."

He flipped his coin and stroking the case of lipstick idly.

If I was right, I'd say he had a crush on her. And I always was.

...Not a good thing.

Heads.

"Find her."

I raised my eyebrows, suddenly thinking of the gaping hole found in Arkham a while back. The authorities were still having a hard time covering it up, "You thinking she's going to go down without a fight? Because, if you haven't noticed... she's kind of... a force of nature."

"Tell her Two-Face wants to talk."

I shrugged, turning towards the lavish door of the fancy place, "You do realize who she's with...?"

"Of course I do. That's why I'm sending your ass."

I frowned.

"Look kid, you don't want this job, I can throw you to the dogs..."

He was doing that now. I was no dummy. I think you know that.

But pride took over then. I wasn't going to let him think I was a coward. I'd prove to him what I could do. My ego reared up it's handsome head again. I grasped my cane and bowed low to the ground.

"Find Ivy. Of course. Dear, dear friend."

I turned once more towards the doors of his safe little bar, shaking nerves off my shoulders at the thought of touching the door handle, probably smeared in grimy germs--crawling all over my skin like flies.

"Kid, one more thing."

"I'm sorry. I only answer to one name."

"Riddler..."

"Much, much better."

His voice darkened menacingly, "I know what you do to those redheads... and I'm telling you right now, I want her alive and I want her untouched. You got that?"

"Wouldn't dare, my man. Your wish is my command."

"Cut the suck-up fest and get out of here."

"Yes, your highness." I bit back bitterly, sneaking off into the night.

Jay

WELL GENTLEMEN, IT APPEARS YOU ARE SO DENSE YOU CANNOT UNSCRAMBLE A FEW SIMPLE CODES.

OH ME, OH MY, WHAT FUN WE'RE HAVING.

PLEASED TO MEET YOU, I HOPE YOU'VE GUESSED MY NAME.

I HAVE A FEW GIRLFRIENDS, I BELIEVE YOU'VE MET THEM ALL?

I DO HOPE THEY'VE BEEN RATHER QUIET, FOR THEY DO HAVE FIERY TEMPERS, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

BUT ENOUGH OF THIS HUNT, I'M AFTER BIGGER MEAT.

OUR WINGED FRIEND, OUR CAPED CRUSADER.

YOU SEE, I AM LIKE GENERAL ZAROFF FROM THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME.

ONLY I HAVE A WHITER SMILE, AND HOPE TO GATHER MORE FAME.

SO GENTLEMEN, I HAVE ONE SIMPLE REQUEST:

HAND OVER THE BAT, OR I FEAR YOUR MORGUE WILL BECOME QUITE LIVELY.

I WILL DO WHAT MY KING COULD NOT ACCOMPLISH.

RIDDLE ME THIS, RIDDLE ME THAT.

WHO'S AFRAID OF A BIG BLACK BAT?

"Pretty plainly spelled out." I said to Gordon, "He wants the Batman, or he'll kill more people."

"Great. Another one," Gordon rubbed his eyes tiredly, "The only thing I can't get in that line right there... 'I will do what my king could not accomplish.'"

I looked closer, shoving the dull head in my pain away. I really needed some Tylenol. Still, I persisted.

"It's simple."

"What?"

"He's an old henchman. Of 'The King'. Of the clown prince of crime."

"But.. The Joker killed them all off..."

"We assume he did, Gordon. We assume."

Joker

You all know how I feel about assuming, don't you?

Hahahahahahahahahaha.