Ch: 49
AN: Alright, as promised, I'll release 3 chapters today. So, gimme those powerstones.
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[Gotham] [Joker's Old Hideout]
The hideout was a rotting warehouse squeezed between two condemned buildings on the outskirts of Gotham. Rain leaked through holes in the ceiling, tapping against rusted metal barrels that once held chemicals no sane person would store indoors. The place smelled like mold, copper, gasoline, and something far worse brewing in beakers on a crooked wooden table.
Joker hummed as he hobbled across the room. Each step made his knee twitch, and every time he tried to sit, his face twisted from the pain in his shot-up ass. Harley's bullets still haunted him. He lowered himself onto a stool with a hiss between his teeth.
"Harley, Harley, Harley." He tapped a glass vial full of swirling green and purple gas. "You naughty little traitor. You think you can run off to Dakota City with a new haircut and a smile on TV? Selling pizza slices like life's one big joke without the Joker? Tsk."
His tone dipped into something colder.
"You shot me in the ass and knee..." He flexed his leg, winced, and slammed his fist against the table. "And then that lightning brat ruined my whole masterpiece in Fawcett. All that prep and planning. Kaput."
He leaned closer to the beaker, watching the gas shift colors.
"Well. Daddy's back to work."
Scarecrow was in the corner, scribbling on a chalkboard filled with fear toxin formulas. His mask rested on top of a stack of newspapers. He didn't look up when he spoke.
"You're obsessed," he muttered. "You should be focusing on Gotham. Not your ex."
Joker's grin widened.
"Oh my dear Jonathan, this is Gotham. It's always been Gotham. Harley's just the spark that lights the city. And once she sees the show I've been cooking, she'll come crawling back. Heheheheh! Aahahahaha! Haaa..." He laughed before turning serious. "Or crawling at all, depending on how the gas hits her lungs."
Scarecrow sighed. "And why exactly are we working on this again? I told you my new fear toxin is enough to drown Gotham."
Joker hopped off the stool, limped to the center of the room, and gestured grandly at a large cylindrical device hidden under a tarp.
"Simple. We take Gotham's spirit..." he paused and twirled his fingers, "...and twist it. A laughing nightmare. Fear and joy blended into one beautiful symphony. People screaming and giggling at the same time. Hahaha. Isn't that poetic?" He opened his arms while laughing like the maniac he is.
Scarecrow replied. "It's medically impossible."
"Not with your fear toxin and my laughing gas dancing together," Joker said, patting the tarp like a proud father. "We fuse them. And go kaboom. We'll use Waller's little minions as our test subjects before the big bang!"
He shuffled back to his workbench, dragging both feet slightly. He picked up a blueprint covered in messy handwriting.
"If I detonate this baby in the Narrows, the wind takes care of the rest. Gotham will howl with laughter for days or forever. They will die with a large smile on their faces. Then, when Bats' busy playing politics and finding a cure, we'll go to Dakota and find that bitch."
[A few minutes later]
Outside the hideout, a loud blast shook the cracked walls, followed by screams and gunshots. Joker froze mid-step and stared at the ceiling.
Joker clapped. "Ah. Guests."
Scarecrow put on his mask in a hurry. "This is not good."
Another blast followed.
Joker limped to the nearest window and peeked through a crack.
"What in the sweet name of chaos is that shiny chrome idiot doing here?"
It was Peacemaker, fully suited, visor glowing red. He marched forward. Bloodsport walked beside him, checking the charge levels on a compact rifle. Both wore gas masks.
Peacemaker raised one of his custom guns. It fired a bullet that split into six projectiles midair. Six of Joker's goons dropped at the same time.
Peacemaker counted loud enough for everyone to hear. "Six. Ha. Beat that."
Bloodsport sighed. He lifted his rifle, aimed without emotion, and fired three quick shots. Each one hit a goon right between the eyes. Three bodies hit the pavement.
Bloodsport spoke through his mask. "Three clean shots. Three clean kills. Your bullets do the work for you."
Peacemaker grinned. "Do not hate the artist. Hate the art."
One of Joker's goons screamed. "Run!"
The remaining goons opened fire. Bullets rippled through the rain. Peacemaker charged forward without fear and fired a round that curved left, then right, then drilled into a goon's chest. Blood sprayed everywhere as the hit sent him flipping back.
Peacemaker did not miss a beat. "Seven."
Bloodsport slid behind a fallen metal crate and tapped a button on his chest plate. A small drone popped free and hovered over his shoulder. It fired a series of short electric blasts. Four goons convulsed and hit the ground. Bloodsport nodded once. "Seven."
Peacemaker shouted. "You copied my number."
"No. I tied it," Bloodsport replied.
A group of five goons ran at them with knives as they were reloading. Peacemaker threw a small pink grenade into the crowd. It exploded and showered the men with tiny shrapnel needles. All five collapsed without a scream as their bodies melted within seconds.
"Twelve. I am unbeatable."
Bloodsport raised his hand and pointed upward. A heavy cannon extended from his armor and fired a single large plasma shot. It burst in the air like a star. The wave of blue heat washed over the men who tried to crawl back. They hit the ground and did not move.
Bloodsport spoke calmly. "Fourteen."
Peacemaker muttered something angry and stomped on the ground. He shot another goon trying to crawl away. "Thirteen."
Bloodsport fired a round into the same man before the body stopped twitching. "Fifteen."
Peacemaker yelled. "That one was mine."
"No. You left him breathing," Bloodsport said.
Gunfire echoed again. Smoke filled the street. Peacemaker switched to a high-velocity round that tore through three men in a straight line, leaving a gaping hole in their chests. They fell like puppets. He looked proud.
Bloodsport pulled a grenade from his belt and rolled it toward a cluster of goons behind a rusted truck. The blast took out five more. The truck flipped onto its side.
One goon sprinted from behind a burned car. He fired a wild shot at Peacemaker. The bullet bounced off Peacemaker's helmet. Peacemaker shot him in his stomach. Five seconds later, he exploded into blood and meat.
"Exploding rounds," He reloaded his gun.
Inside the hideout, Joker's grin twitched as the gunfire grew louder. The walls shook again. Scarecrow grabbed his satchel filled with toxin canisters.
"We need to leave," Scarecrow said as he gathered all his notes and set fire to the remaining.
Joker tried to peek one more time, but a bullet cracked the glass above him. He ducked with a scream. "Okay. Yes. That is our cue."
They ran toward the back of the warehouse. Joker limped fast, using the table to keep balance. Scarecrow pushed aside some old shelves that blocked the far wall. Behind them was a metal hatch half rusted through.
Joker slapped the side of it. "Open sesame." He kicked it twice until it popped loose. A ladder led down into a dark tunnel.
Scarecrow dropped first. He turned on a small flashlight strapped to his wrist. The tunnel stretched far under the street. Pipes lined the walls, and water dripped from the ceiling.
Joker climbed down next, struggling with each rung. "This is why Harley needs to pay for shooting me. This whole escape is uncomfortable. I blame her."
Scarecrow kept walking. "We can blame her later. Keep moving."
Above them, the door to the hideout burst open. Peacemaker stepped in first with his gun raised. Bloodsport followed and scanned every corner of the room.
Peacemaker saw the open hatch. "They are running."
Bloodsport checked the ladder. "Fresh prints on the metal. They went down."
Peacemaker crackled with anger. "If they get away I lose my perfect score."
"You do not have a perfect score," Bloodsport said without emotion.
Peacemaker climbed down the ladder. "I will if I kill Joker first."
"No. I will kill him," Bloodsport replied as he followed.
Meanwhile, Joker and Scarecrow hurried through the narrow tunnel. Joker's breath came in short gasps. "Why are tunnels always so long? I should install moving walkways."
Scarecrow spoke without looking back. "Focus on reaching the exit."
Joker waved his flashlight around. "I am focused. I am also thinking of how to murder two government pets."
The tunnel stretched on with no sound except their footsteps. Then Joker stopped. He bent down and picked up a small metal plate on the wall. "We are safe. This leads to the old subway. We can go anywhere. But before that..." He took out a small remote from his pocket and pressed the red button.
The red button clicked.
Far down the tunnel, tiny lights winked to life on the ceiling. One after another, they lit up like a string of angry fireflies. Bloodsport spotted them first as he and Peacemaker reached the bottom of the ladder.
He lifted his rifle and cursed. "Shit. Explosives."
Peacemaker looked up. "What? Where?"
Bloodsport pointed at the red dots. "Everywhere."
Peacemaker shouted, "Activate Screwdriver!"
His helmet lit up. A pale dome of force spread around his body and locked tight.
Bloodsport slapped the device on his chest. His armor rippled. The metal plates shifted and stacked into two heavy layers. A shield formed over his arms and legs.
The first bomb went off.
The tunnel walls blew inward. A rush of heat tore through the entire passage. The shock blasted sand, metal, and concrete in every direction. The floor buckled. The ceiling cracked. Everything came down at once.
Bloodsport braced himself as the fire swallowed him. The blast slammed into his armor and shook every bone in his body. His shield cracked but held.
Peacemaker screamed over the roar. "I'm still standing! Ha! Screwdriver never fails!"
The ceiling collapsed. The tunnel caved in. Dust, stone, and metal buried everything under a mountain of rubble. The last thing they heard was pipework snapping and water rushing in.
Then silence.
Far ahead, Joker and Scarecrow burst through a metal grate and staggered into the abandoned subway tunnel. Smoke rolled in behind them.
"Eehehehehe! Aaahahahaha!"
Joker laughed as he wiped soot off his face.
"That was lovely," he said, pocketing the remote.
Scarecrow coughed and kept moving. "We need to get above ground. Now."
They ran up the subway stairs.
Joker limped faster. "We made it. Oh Jonathan, we made it. Those two meatheads are either dead or dying. We can finally get back to—"
He pushed the last door open.
A figure stood outside in the rain.
Harley was sitting in a chair made of lightning, and she was holding a lightning mallet. Her smile was wide. Her eyes were locked on Joker. Beside her stood John and Maureen.
"Hello, Mistah J. Did ya miss me?"
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