I think it's time you were caught up on the Joker/Batman/Gordon situation. I hope a lot of questions will be answered and even more will be asked (evil grin).

The Joker leaned his forehead against the side of the speeding train and listened to Gordon's scream disappearing behind onto the streets of Gotham. Humming a few toneless bars he turned his attention to the cops inside.

Times had changed, Gotham citizens were baring their windows, locking their doors and every minute he wasted with the Commissioner, dozens of people were escaping to the country. He couldn't have that.

According to the muffled voices in the train, Gotham was going to hell in a hand basket, as far as the gangs and police were concerned, Batman was dead and the Joker was missing, all bets were off. Even in the dim blue light of a coming storm, Gotham's streets were alive with light and sound, it really was a beautiful city. Building sped past in odd, unorganized clumps.

The Joker's humming turned to whistling 'Happy Birthday'. It had never been about the killing, not really. Of course people had there uses, especially dead people, most of the time they were more use alive than dead.

But Batsy, Batsy was dead while alive, he was as caught up in saving the world as the Joker was in destroying it. He couldn't be bought or sold, that was really why Rachel Dawes had to go. Batman would have died for her, leave the mantle by the umbrellas and pursue an ordinary existence for a person, a person just like the rest of the rats. Batman and man couldn't coexist, he had to leave all other identity, become no one else but the Batman. Without Dawes, he was free to be just that. The Joker wouldn't share him with anyone else.

And now he had his chance, the police on the train had told him everything. The gangs were arming and he needed the one thing that they didn't and couldn't have.

He looked at the large Gothic 'W' impressed onto the door which he was now clinging to.

He needed to talk to Wayne. But first he needed supplies, he needed a troupe, he needed to kill someone, and he really, really needed a hat.

The street thugs were arming themselves. He had just been introduced to most of the 'Cobblepot' gang who were arming themselves to the teeth for the coming fight over the streets. Before Batman, the city had been carved up by the gangsters, territories had been set out among the narrows and through the lower apartments to criminal alley.

And they had owned the cops. Apparently that was why they were so eager to see Gordon. In the new age, the cops had to be bought quickly, and who better to start with than the commissioner?

He needed to get away. He had to see Bruce, warn him that Gotham was off it's short leash and that the Joker was planning something big, really big for tonight. Fireworks were going off in the narrows and he was a long way away from Wayne manor, where he was pretty sure he was going. Alfred Pennyworth was at Wayne manor, and he could answer a whole lot of questions about the young playboy/vigilante.

It was still odd to think of Batman and Bruce Wayne in the same sentence, or even the same book.

He looked around at the small time criminal muscle that surrounded him. Jesse was in the corner, clutching the shotgun that had been thrust to him. The gun was almost bigger than he was. Blood was going to run in the streets, and Jesse had the face that was in the local newspaper in the morning, a two paragraph story written about the tragic death of a high school age kid and the decline of youth.

One day his sons would be that age. Gordon clutched at his temples and tried to clear the image of his sons out of his head. A large hand slapped him on the back, and he turned to face Mike's concerned face. Street filth, concerned about his welfare. Gordon wanted to laugh, wanted to sob until he passed out. He was trapped by his own survival, if only he had hit the street when the Joker had thrust him off the air rail.

No, he mustn't think like that.

Mike was trying to say something but his words were lost in the loud music and the drunken revelry. Gordon shook his head and shouted that he needed to get some air. Mike had Jesse follow him. The two slammed through the crowd starting to gather at the bar where the weapons were being handed out.

The bar doors slammed out wards and finally he could breathe in smokeless air. The noise inside the bar receded a little as the doors closed. Jesse looked at him questioningly. The commissioner turned to walk away from the bar, the young man stopped him, "Hey, where are you going?"

He was suspicious, a little smarter than the older scum in the pub. Gordon knew he wouldn't last the night, not under the direction of those idiots. "I'm just stretching my legs."

Jesse followed his suspiciously, his whole body trembling under the steady shotgun that was swiveling around with his twitching eyes. Gordon would have laughed, but for the very obvious danger of being shot.

Turning to face his young captor, Gordon started to pat himself down, "Hey, you have a smoke?" Jesse reached inside his jacket and Gordon pounced. The newly stitched up wound that he had received from the Joker in hospital ripped sharply, but he wrestled the gun away from Jesse.

The boy lay on his back, hands held in front of his chest to try and protect himself. He hadn't screamed, which wouldn't have been a problem anyway with his gang going half-deaf inside McGinty's tavern.

"Don't shoot me." The half whisper tore at Gordon. This was just a kid. A kid with everything to lose in this life. The shotgun remained steady but he was trembling inside. He couldn't kill the boy.

"Go home. Go home and lock your doors."

Jesse started to scrambled up, but Gordon stopped him, kneeling on the ground and pulled the packet of cigarettes out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "And quit smoking, you're too young."

Jesse got to his feet and ran up the street away from both Gordon and the noisy pub.

Gordon quickly followed.

The Joker had followed up on his quest for supplies, he got the much needed hat from one of the obliging officers that had been on the train. He hadn't killed them, they would carry the message back to whatever master they heeled to. The Joker was back. The Joker was ready, and the Joker was going to take the city.

The gangs were scared of him, as they should be. He was the most powerful on the streets. No one had his funds, or more importantly, the fear that he generated on the streets. But that wasn't enough, there would be a few who challenged his throne, and he had an idea. A sane idea.

Oh, how he did like irony.

But most of his hired thugs had died or joined other organizations when he had been sent to Arkham. He had taken back what was his, and what had formerly been the diamond back's territory had been relabeled to something more befitting the Joker's territory. He had picked up the fallen peacock feather that had been on display at Diamond's house and carefully folded it into his hat.

And now to Wayne manor.

He had urgent business with Bruce Wayne.

So yeah, it's going to be hard to get back into writing this, so please be kind. I think I may re-write this when I once again get the hang of Batman, Gordon, and my beloved Joker.

And now, because I like writing review pleas, (and that one guy who didn't like them can go live in a dumpster where he can rot without reviews.)

Famous movie quotes

Frankly my dear, do you give a damn?

Hasta su respuesto, baby.

I've written things you people wouldn't believe. The Joker on fire off the shoulder of the courthouse. I documented batbeams glittering in the dark near the Wayne Tower. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in rain. Time to review.

My mother always said writing a story is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get back.

Get busy readin', or get busy reviewin'.

I'll be back.