Holiday (Joker//Flashback)

Participants: Edward Nigma and the Joker
Open/Closed: Closed



Location(s): The Irishman's Hat, a dive bar in Amusement Mile that the Riddler uses as a base of operations
Time of Day: Christmas Eve, 11:01pm
Weather: Snow flurries and drizzly rain 
Summary: After paying a visit to Salvatore Maroni, the Joker is startled to find out that the notorious mob boss is not aware of Holiday's identity despite the fact that all of the killer's victims have been members of the rival Falcone crime syndicate. Desperate to find out who has been stealing all the press away from him, he consults an inquisitive ally before he concludes his search at Harvey Dent's house and the Roman's estate on the following day.


??????

A set of jet black darts zipped past empty sets of high top tables and met their end onto a newspaper clipping of Batman's face that was taped lovingly onto the center of the board that they went with. One by one they blazed through the air, hitting the Dark Knight's upper cowl, nose, and chin respectively. Mickey Connelli had never been in cahoots with the Riddler before, but the owner of the Hat, Ned, was a longtime friend of his and Mickey had gotten to know the "costumed freak" a bit since he started using the bar as a hideout. Ned was fiercely loyal to Riddler. He seemed to be of the mindset that as soon there were no more mobsters in Gotham, only psychos that played dress up like Batman and the mess of lunatics that he inspired would exist. Mickey wasn't too concerned about the tides changing as long as there was always somebody that he could work for around. A few sets of packed tables, four goons at each, filled the center of the bar's floor and Edward Nygma, clad in a green tuxedo and a green set of trousers leaned against the wall by the entrance to the kitchen.

The bar's main stage featured a set of largely printed photographs that Eddie had put on display; pictures of each individual he felt could be behind the mask of the Holiday Killer, a terrifying new player that had currently been ripping the ranks of Carmine Falcone's crime syndicate asunder. Harvey Dent. Rupert Thorne. Jim Gordon. All potential candidates. There was a large graph propped beneath the images that had tally marks for each bet favoring one of the said persons being behind the murders. Personally, however, Eddie was surprised nobody had come gunning for him yet. He had pulled in a few favors for The Roman recently regarding some of Maroni's enforcers that the crime lord wanted off the streets. However, Holiday's getup was totally different from his. Leaving festive ornaments at the scene according to what holiday the killing was committed on? More like Julian Day's modus operandi. Not the Riddler's style at all. 

Mickey whistled Eddie's way and motioned for him to come over to where he stood. He pointed to a pair of women in green fishnets who were sitting by the bar. They were obviously prostitutes. One was a long blonde, tall with skinny legs. The other was a brunette with a much shorter haircut. Slightly shorter than he coworker was. "I heard the rumors...you were takin' in two broads named Query and Echo t'do some of 'yer dirty work for you...didn't think it was true...look at what we got here..." He whistled at the tall blonde who promptly flipped up her middle finger. 

Eddie's suit and leggings were covered in oversized question marks. His hat also had the same insignia on it. A bowtie that was only slightly goofy was tucked around his neck. "These girls?" Eddie laughed. "Not really my style...the girls here wear green to match the theme of the bar, though, so I can see how garbage like that ends up getting spread around." The brunette flipped open her purse and pulled out a lighter for her cigarette. Eddie reached behind the bar and grabbed another large print and unrolled it about halfway. The Calendar Man's bald head would be plastered onto the stage's wall next. "You really think a fool like the Calendar Man could be Holiday?" Mickey waved his unlit cigar and the brunette to signal her for a light. She slipped her lighter back into her purse and stepped away with her more attractive friend. They were off a more crowded area to seek clientele. "Bitch." Mickey whispered under his breath.

Nygma knew Julian Day was not somebody to be underestimated. However, since he was under constant surveillance in Arkham Asylum he was one of the more unlikely candidates. "Day is certainly capable of such acts...but our supposed serial killer could still easily be a common mob hitman at this point. It's far too early in his crime spree to know anything of certainty."

"With Johnny Viti and the Irishmen gone bein' targeted, it's got to be somebody from Falcone's gang. That's what everybody's sayin'..." Eddie journeyed past the sea of shady figures that populated the dining area and tacked his newest poster to the wall behind the stage. He secretly had his money on somebody, but telling other people would ruin the fun of having them guess wrongly like a bunch of buffoons. The Riddler's deductive reasoning was far superior to anyone else's. Surely any mystery could be solved by him before any other. It was true that the Dark Knight's secret identity had eluded him for some time, but he was suspicious that a certain feline fatale may have more answers regarding the sociopathic vigilante. 

As Eddie finished hanging his newest decoration, a gunshot went off behind him and then sound of four heavily armed men storming into the building followed immediately. "Riddler." One of pointed and shouted. They were each trenchcoated and wore khaki colored fedora hats. The classical piano on the stereo continued playing and most people who were eating and talking continued about their business. Even with a few tricks up his sleeve, Eddie still approached the gang's leader cautiously. There was a shotgun and a tommy gun with a full drum hidden behind the bar. Ned observed the situation from behind a set of whisky bottles in wait of potential action. These men were low level members of Maroni's crime family, and Eddie knew exactly why they had sought him out.


"Do you know either of these gentlemen?" The leader handed him a pair of photographs of two dead bodies. One was split open with internal organs showing, and the other sat sliced in half in front of what appeared to be a directional wheel of some sort and a large set of of blades that appeared to be the propeller of a plane or a large boat of some sort. Eddie shuffled the two photos between his fingers and pointed at them with his hand that was empty. "Ah, it seems that this young man wasn't turning the wheel in the direction that would have moved the blade away from him...and, well...this other fellow seems to have made a split decision of sorts, also..." The individuals had clearly not solved the puzzles that were placed before them offer them escape. 

"This is surely your handiwork...question marks all over where the bodies were found, your tracks spelled out to a twisted tee...boss Maroni is surely gonna be happy when we tell him we knock off the guy that got two of his best men off the streets for good."

Before the men could cock their weapons, Eddie had already charged over to the bar and leapt over it. He pressed his hand down against the top of his bowler hat to keep it from flying off as bullets ricocheted around him when he jumped. He heard tables being tilted on their sides as people screamed and ran out of the building. He also heard Ned's shotgun go off a few times. He turned to his side to see comrade crouched behind the bar as well, with Mickey hiding snugly in a drinks cabinet behind him. Eddie grabbed the tommy gun and snapped in the loose ammo drum. "Question: when are mob enforcers like donut shops?" His bowler hat was now soaring into the air as he ejected himself above the bar and opened fire. "Answer: when they are full of holes!" 

RaTATatataTatatatatata

Bloodstains covered an unlucky henchmen's shirt and jacket as he toppled over in front of the rounded table that two of his friends were hidden behind. Click. Click. Out of ammo. Eddie ducked down again as bullets were returned in his direction, but not before noticing the remaining goon off to the other side of the floor by where he had hung all of his posters on stage. Standing right on top of an electrified rug that he had set up. Excellent. The water sprinklers on the ceiling would seal the man's fate indefinitely once the rug was activated. He snapped his finger at Ned promptly. "Light! Light!" He whispered. 

"You didn't tell me you had one when I asked..." Mickey whispered in the shadows. 

Ned reached into his pocket and quickly tossed Eddie a zippo lighter. The lighter flipped open in midair as it flew towards Eddie's hand, making a loud snapping noise that prompted more gunfire from the barrels pointed at them. Eddie quickly calculated the amount of force that he would need to hurl the lighter over the where the closest set sprinkler was. The corresponding lever to the electric rug was conveniently within arm's reach from where he was. He flicked the zippo on and reached back behind his head. "Question: why did General Custer crave a credit card?" So he could charge. More like a joke than a complex riddle, Eddie let fly and sent the active lighter crashing into the ceiling. Sure enough, the sprinklers came on and Eddie quickly yanked the lever as cold water plinked and plodded on top of the wooden surface above him. 

The two men behind the table turned around to see their remaining comrade getting electrocuted. Two down...two left. But no bullets left in his tommy gun and Ned low on shells, also, it seemed like getting out of this one would truly be a puzzle worthy of his own talents. His cane, which had a spring-loaded blade concealed within it, was propped next to the stage and well beyond his grasp. He reached underneath the bar and pulled down a skinny knife that was taped down inside one of the drawers. He motioned for Ned to stay where he was. He couldn't afford to lose the man who had been so successful in keeping him hidden for so long, although he did have a suspicion that Batman had an idea of where is hideout was. He could hear the two men walking forward. He planned to rush one of them (with or without a riddle prepared) while he hoped that Ned's shotgun would do the rest of the talking. 

He held the knife close to his chest and waited for the answer to his predicament to arrive. Eddie was a slippery little fellow, but even though he would never admit it, he did need someone else's help every now and again. 

The Joker

He had been forgotten. He was a thing of the past. A crusty, old, pale relic. How fickle and hurtful the people of Gotham could be! So quick were they to move on from one psychopathic killer and BOOM right onto the next string of grisly murders. It was as if they craved new and fresh gimmicks to surround brutal slayings of individuals, and there was less shame in celebrating that fact when the victims were mobsters. The people of Gotham were bored with the Clown Prince of Crime and they had casted him to the wayside like some old toy that had lost its luster and shine. While the Harlequin of Hate had been discarded to the waste pile, the Gothamites were now obsessing over the boringly named Holiday Killer. Didn't the city already have a resident nut job who's whole identity was based around dates and holidays? 

Joker knew people were stupid but this was outrageous!

There was no escaping Holiday. The name, and details of the crime, were all over the place no matter where J looked. In print, on the news, on the lips of gossiping Gotham housewives. It was all so sickening and annoying. What was Joker - chopped liver?! How could he of all people be forgotten? That just wasn't a thing! No one forgets Joker! Nobody.

The weather was disgusting. Rain made the air humid and the random flurries of thin snowfall made the cold near unbearable. Joker hunched underneath a heavy fur coat as he trudged through the darkened streets of Gotham. He marched through the streets with his mind abuzz with settling a score. No one knew who Holiday was or what his beef was - though clearly he was after mafiosos, which wasn't something Joker took issue with at all. The time of mob goons was a thing of the past in Gotham, the freaks were there to stay! Still, his own spark was dying out because of the tabloid-raved-about Holiday killer and Joker was determined to put an end to it.

He was going to uncover Holiday's true face and put a few slugs in it.

Joker's coat flapped violently in the cold wind as he threw his right leg out in front of him. Squeaky clean loafers met with the wood of a door and forced the portal open. The Clown lurched his way in and glowered at the greasy haired kid who came running out from some backroom. In a flash Joker lifted a pistol and had blown the kid away. He grumbled about how quick and uneventful the kill was but it was a lead up sort of thing, not the main gag or punchline, that he would reach at the backroom.

Before reaching his intended target(s) their was another door in his way. No doubt it was locked now and being barricaded by those inside after hearing the gunshot that had rang out.

"I'll huff and I'll puff."

Before Joker could say or do more that door situated before himself and his targets was reduced the splinters. Rapid gunfire chopped down the wooden door and its frame. Bullets sprayed wildly from the tommy guns on the other side of the threshold. Feathers flew high from the bullets that ripped through sofas and the cushions atop them. The interior decorating was murdered merciless as the loud sounds of bullets being fired continued to sound off. 

"Any idiot who thinks they can drop in on us without a proper invite gots to have a death wish!"

Joker had already spoken with Maroni and that had gotten him nowhere, and so he had moved onto the other side of that coin. The Falcone family was a little less subtle and a lot more gun-happy.

Slowly, three men exited the room of which they had just destroyed the door to. They all held their guns at a slight downward angle, eyes sharp for a body to have been swiss cheesed by their bullets. However, there was no such body to find. Standing in a basic triangle formation the armed gangsters turned to look at one another, their confusion more than apparent.

The old grandfather clock standing along the wall that had been saved from any of their bullets suddenly tipped over and crossed two of the three mobsters. The heavy coat wearing Joker then pounced and landed atop the clock that rested on the bodies, further squishing them. He held his pistol in one hand and collected one of their tommy guns in his other.

"Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to talk?"

The five of the Falcone family remaining shifted untrustingly. Joker then used the remaining bullets in the tommy gun drum to removed four of the gangsters from the equation.

"Because that would be a lie." J was smiling but there was no laughter and no cheeriness to his tone. It as just cold and cruel.

He dropped down from the grandfather clock, dropped the now empty tommy gun, and proceeded to take a step forward. There was only one Falcone left standing, his tommy gun still in hand and very much still loaded.

"A-are you crazy, Clown!? Don't yo-"

"Yes, of course I am!"

"I could blow you away, right here right now! Don't be stupid! You want war with the Falcone family?"

"Seems to me you boys already have your hands full with Maroni and of course the Holiday Killer."

Mentioning Holiday made the mobster shudder like the blood in his veins had suddenly become ice water. Joker's smile grew.

"Who is it? It's gotta be someone in your little family. I know you know." Joker took a step closer and the Falcone family member took aim as result. The Clown stopped and leveled his green eyes at the barrel pointed square at his chest.

"Do it. Take me out of my misery! Gotham is Holiday's now, even Batman is obsessing over this unimaginative dolt! Pump me fulla lead and get it over with. At least I won't have to watch Holiday take anything else from me."

His sob story was falling on deaf ears, but it was good enough to hold the mobster's attention. With his focus more on Joker's words it allowed the clown's actions to be quicker than the other man's reactions. His handgun struck the Falcone mobster across the face and he fell backward into a table.

Joker leaped onto the table and made man alike. He straddled the man's chest with his knees pinning his arms. The gun had fallen to the floor somewhere and unleashed a short barrage of bullets into the wall. Joker snickered as he pressed the barrel of his gun into the man's forehead. 

"Tell me your secrets."

"I-I don't know, you freak! Holiday ain't one of us. You think we're afraid to cop to one of our killings? If we put a Maroni in the dirt its cuz they deserved it and we wouldn't be doing it like you freaks! This is a psycho doing this."

Joker turned his head slightly, regarding the man under him much more closely. Time seemed to stretch on for eternity for the man left completely in the clown's mercy, but it was a mere few seconds in reality.

"You mob rats never know anything," he leaned in closer, his red lips just barely missed grazing the man's ear. "That's why you're going extinct."

The Joker laughed, his chuckle more spine tingling than any of his words or murders performed in that short span of minutes. He rolled backward off of the mobster and plunged himself back into the darkness of night, leaving behind the heavy coat he'd worn into the home.

It had been disappointing but not entirely unexpected. Holiday was proving to be a clever little nuisance, even if he really was a Falcone mobster like Joker assumed he wasn't going to be sharing that identity with anyone. But this meant Joker was no closer to finding out Holiday's identity than he'd started. He grumbled to himself, not because of that dead end he'd found himself in once again, but because of what he was going to have to do next.

---

Amusement Mile was Joker's, the title of such a place should have clued anyone in to that fact. However, it wasn't solely Joker's. While the Clown holed himself up, apparently, in the amusement park named after the promontory there was more to the stretch of land, including an irish pub.

The Joker was a smart man, a genius in fact, but he wasn't a mystery solver, he preferred to be the creator of mysteries not the nerd sitting in a corner trying to unravel and decode them. But as sharp as his mind was and as much as he detested playing detective, it was highly important that he looked at the clues if he wished to discern who Holiday truly was. And if the Joker couldn't, or wouldn't, do that then there was only one other freak in the circus of Gotham would could. 

Joker watched as the men in trench coats entered the bar, the meant business and they were most certainly armed. He recognized a couple of them from his visit to Salvatore Maroni's the other day. Now why on Earth would Maroni's men be interested in the bowler wearing geek? J slinked closer to the Irishman's Hat to get a better idea.

The drizzle kept constant over the course of the night and without his coat Joker was left at its mercy. His long walk to Amusement Mile meant he was good and soaked now, with the flurry of snow making him quite cold to boot. Warmth was more than welcome at this point, so he figured he would enter the pub and take advantage of the warmth inside. 

There was commotion inside of the Riddler's hide out almost immediately. Hearing the shouts and sounds of bullets whizzing through the air made Joker giddy inside, but it wasn't enough to warm him up. For that he would still need to enter the establishment. With the commotion growing more out of hand with each passing second, Joker was able to gain entry into the bar unseen with little problem. While he may have been unseen the clown had arrived just in time to see men shot and shocked to death. Rather macabre stuff.

Sadly, Eddie seemed to be pinned down now. There was no riddling his way out of this one - unless he had more of those electrical traps laid out around the place.

Joker glanced down at his bare pale hands and frowned slightly. He had left the tommy guns back at the Falcone's and his own pistol was empty. The Clown Prince supposed he would have to get a wee bit more creative if he was going to do what he was planning to do. J needed Riddler to point him in the right direction of Holiday's identity and there wasn't much pointing Nigma would be capable of as a dead man.

One of the two men left standing in opposition to Riddler suddenly screamed out, his body convulsing, and then dropped to the bar floor to reveal The Joker behind him. 

"Don't worry, he's just buzzed. HAAAHEHEHEHAHA!"

Joker held up his hand and waved the joy buzzer inside of his palm as he laughed deep from his gut. The other mobster quickly lifted his gun and pulled tight on the trigger.

"Good talk!"

J yelped as he dove out of the path of the bullets. He ran across the room, cutting sharply in wild patterns and darting behind tables and wooden columns. He was suddenly turned around and heading toward the gun, who took an uneasy step back but continued painting the establish with bullets.

"May I make a counterpoint?"

The loud ratatata of gunfire ceased as Maroni's man spat out a Urk! Joker's knife was plunged deep in the man's throat with blood water falling over its hilt and Joker's arm. The man's body dropped like bricks once Joker had ripped his weapon free from the wound. He shook his wet wear and tucked a few strands behind his ear with his blood soaked hand. Emerald eyes then turned in search for the Riddler.

"Ho Ho Ho!"

Edward Nigma

Smoke floated from the piping hot nozzle of the empty tommy gun beside him and his hair was drenched from the sprinklers that had quickly run out of water shortly after he had chucked the lighter. Maroni's men had been murdered on a private airstrip at Gotham International that the family had been renting out for the arrival of out of town gang members and drugs. The Falcones would surely have been angered if they had learned about the degree of theatrically that Eddie had used in his hits, but when you enlisted the aid of a top notch criminal genius a bit of showmanship should be an expected thing. Eddie was all about taking credit for his crimes. He wanted everyone to know who he was and what he was getting away with. If he couldn't flaunt his intelligence, then what was the point of it all?

The men continued to inch closer. He was just about to signal Ned to pounce up from behind the bar with his shotgun, when all of a sudden a menacing laugh shrill enough to shatter glass echoed up to the ceiling of the establishment. 


"Don't worry, he's just buzzed. HAAAHEHEHEHAHA!"

The Joker. The Ace of Knaves. The Clown Prince of Crime. The Harlequin of Hate.

"Good talk!"

The tabloids in Gotham had given him around the same number of ridiculous names that they had given Batman. All of them, like the man himself, had been seeming a bit last year with the emergence of Holiday.

"May I make a counterpoint?"

Eddie could hear the sound of the other remaining mobster gagging and choking on his own blood on the other side of the bar. Well, one problem was solved...in exchange for the emergence of another potential one. He slid the knife he was holding into his back pocket before emerging from his hiding place.

"Ho Ho Ho!"

"The Joker, ladies and gentlemen..." He clapped his gloves together enthusiastically as the remainder of the bar's inhabitants screamed in terror and frantically dashed towards exit signs or places to hide. Ned emerged from behind the bar as well with Mickey in tow behind him. Now that the Joker was here, the entire incident could be blamed on him if the police investigated the shots while Eddie escaped. Also, they could inform Carmine that it was he who got into the fight with Maroni's men and have a cleaner sent to pay for the damage to the building and dispose of all the dead bodies.  

Eddie tossed Ned the empty tommy gun and ventured over to the other side of the room for his cane. On paper, it seemed like he could have a lot in common with a criminal like the Joker. Like Eddie, the Joker had a penchant for games of cat and mouse with the Batman and his plans gushed with cunning creativeness. However, his emphasis on chaos and randomness is what would inevitably make their relationship unworkable. Eddie was meticulous. His plans were all about pattern recognition and everything having a purpose. He was much more of an organized evil, which was a strict opposite to the Joker's unpredictability. Eddie regarded the Joker's antics as far too easy for a genius like himself to get behind, although he did respect J's surprising intellectual capacity and his outside the box methods.


"Call Falcone's estate in the morning, they'll send someone to take care of this tomorrow." He nodded to Ned as he approached the bar again, more than aware of the fact that one of Carmine's men stood in close proximity with his arms folded. "You practically ratted yourself out by killing those thugs at the airstrip the way you did...how do we know they didn't report you to the police? If they find out you're working for the Roman--"  

"I don't hear any sirens..." Eddie interrupted. "Do you?" He slid his rear onto one of the only barstools that wasn't broken. Miraculously, none of the beer taps behind the bar had been damaged. The counter itself, however, was covered in bullet holes. The entire building would probably need to be redone, but this wouldn't be the first time. "Well, I'll let him decide what he thinks of this for himself, I can't believe he decided to hire one of you freaks to do his dirty work!" The man had on a light red button down underneath a dark suit jacket that had been covered in water from the sprinkler system. He headed over to the entrance of the building only to be stopped by a sharp, slender object that had lodged itself in his throat all of a sudden. He fell over against the top of the bar and leaned onto it in pain as blood gushed from his neck and ran down to stain his shirt and trousers. Eddie had fired the spring loaded knife from his cane and now the would-be snitch had been mortally wounded. 

Eddie reached down over the counter and snatched his bowler hat from off the ground. He tugged on the ends of it with both hands and a bullet flaked out of the question mark that was drawn on it. He fitted it on his head snugly as Mickey reached towards the bleeding man and pulled the knife out of his neck. The man collapsed onto the bar and died instantly. Eddie shook his finger in disapproval. The stupidity of others was always beyond belief for him, but he had at least expected better from the company that he kept.  

"Technically...you killed him..." Mickey wiped the bloodstained knife off with a rag and slid it across the table to where Nygma sat. "If the Roman comes looking for one of his missing apes and he finds out what happened, then I will be sure to make him aware of that." He wasn't afraid of Falcone, but with Batman and the police looking for him it wouldn't help to add another name to his list of pursuers. If asked, he would more than likely tell Falcone that the fool was another victim of the Joker's. He was looking to rattle Mickey's chains more than anything else. Ned rested the shotgun on the back of his neck as Eddie motioned for his new guest to have a seat next to him. "Get this man a drink..." Ned reached over to the taps and poured a pale ale into a glass. He slid it over to where Eddie sat. "A pale ale? Really? Isn't this man pale enough, already?" Ta ta da. The weak joke was made simply to get down to the clown's level. Perhaps a way of getting to his soft side? About as likely to work as J stumping him with a riddle, but worth a shot anyhow. Eddie knew better than to trust the Joker, and of course, he knew that he could outsmart him easily. However, even though most of Batman's costumed enemies were not known for physical strength, the Joker still towered above him at 6'5 and was easily able to dispatch the two mobsters that he had just murdered with his hands. If Eddie was being threatened, he knew that he needed to wait for the right moment to make his move. He had both Ned and Mickey in his corner if anything went south, but their muscle might not cut it.

The teeth in the Joker's smile looked to be about as long as a giraffe's neck up close, and his chalk white skin which had not been washed off by any of the sprinkler fluid was obviously the real deal. This man was a disfigured maniac and not some pretending loon in makeup. Eddie claimed the pale ale for himself and gulped it down quickly. "How about whisky shots instead, Ned?" Ned poured the fluid into two shot glasses and presented them to the pair of supervillains. He left the bottle in front of them and then went to get a mop for some of the blood. Eddie dangled the two polaroid photos that Maroni's witch hunters had confronted him with in front of his competition. "Just some recent handiwork, thought you might be interested in having a look." He dropped the pictures onto the empty seat next to him. Hard to say what Gotham's rogues talked about amongst themselves on their days of, but it was presumable that recent slain victims would be an occasional topic. 

Eddie grabbed a torn section of a newspaper with the words Holiday killer terrorizes Gotham inked onto it and splayed it out next to the shot glasses. He had a feeling that he knew why the Joker was here. He had a feeling that, eventually, his current employer would be paying him a visit for the same reason. Later on, maybe even Batman himself would coming looking for answers, as well. Being the smartest man in town always meant that everybody wanted your take on something at one time or another. Because of this, Eddie was often able to profit off of his detective skills, but the Joker was not in usually in the business of paying for the favors that people did him. 

"Everyone that seeks me out has something on their mind." He drummed his fingers against the table gleefully and tapped his feet. "Question is, what's on yours?"

The Joker

The Joker wheezed loudly, the mixture of being winded plus his choked laughter coming out slightly strained from being doubled over.  Miraculously, his green hair remained unmoved by this jostling of his. Straightening up, J placed a hand on a support beam that was little more than splinters at this point and turned his attention to the source of the clapping. His eyes fell on the quizzical conundrum himself, Eddie Nigma aka The Riddler aka Edward. Joker's laughter settled down until his lips were merely a slight pull into a lopsided crimson grin. The Joker did not like The Riddler. People too often thought they were similar. Stupid people. Edward was all mind games and double-talk layered on top of double entendre; it was a mental superiority complex thing. Riddles and clues and puzzles were boring, Joker was too fast paced for such things. He liked to cause chaos and destruction in a hurry or if he was interested in a slow burn it would be the most torturous, tedious, amusing slow burn there was.

Riddles are the antithesis of jokes - they don't make you laugh, they make you feel stupid for not solving them!

Joker was neither a fan of riddles nor The Riddler, yet they always seemed cordial enough with one another. They could coexist only because they were so different. Joker knew their schemes and modus operandi would never crossover or intersect which meant they could perfectly stay out of each other's hair. Unless they no longer wanted to. Unless there was something to make the two men purposely cross paths. The ghost that was the Holiday Killer did just that, a true enigma that Joker certainly wanted gone and if he knew Edward, he too would want the man 6 feet under.

Beyond Riddler and the fleeing patrons there was the bartender and a neanderthal present. The neanderthal was very obviously mafioso muscle. It was easy to tell because they all dressed badly and liked to pose like "badasses", which was undoubtedly compensation for their sensitivity over the rotten childhoods they had. Joker barely paid any attention to the man with zero intimidation factor as he mouthed off to Riddler. The clown blinked a few times at the information the primitive was spewing out. Riddler was working for Falcone. So then J wasn't the only one with the idea that Riddler could point him in the right direction of whoever lay hidden behind the Holiday Killer moniker. Some would probably suspect Edward himself as being the killer, it was barely a stretch if even one at all. Both men were playing the mystery game, leaving teasing little clues that were made to perplex and infuriate. However, Riddler's clues were meant to be solved to an understanding of some larger overall scheme. Holiday didn't want anything solved, he just wanted people dead and he wanted them to know who was responsible - even if they were never meant to discover his true identity. The tokens left behind at each murder were simply calling cards, his brand of a signature on his work, there was nothing more to be gleaned from their existence than that.

Joker watched as the mafia stooge died his painful and slow death with an express devoid of amusement. The man had been an idiot, for some reason he thought himself untouchable and his death was all too predictable. A lot of people thought Riddler was just a silly man with question marks all over his green suit - they were correct in that assumption of course, but the Riddler was still a rogue with blood on his hands. Threatening his life was a sure fire way to add your own blood to those stained hands of his. As far as Joker was concerned though, another dead mobster was just one more highlight of the night.

When the drink was slid their way and Riddler spoke, Joker looked down at the beer with lifted green brows. It took a second, but finally he realized Riddler was making a joke. Pale. Ha. The Joker cracked a smile at the effort. 

"Oooh," J's smile widened at the new suggestion. The shot glass of whiskey was thrown back in a blink. The week Joker was having, he clearly deserved a drink - or thirty. He was already pouring another shot when the pictures were thrown down to take a glimpse at. "Tryin' to impress me, Eddieboy?" Joker giggled as he looked the pictures over more closely. "Though it's kinda begging Batsy to pop in and beat your face in, isn't it? Hahahaha!" If the mob dopes could figure it out, then Batman most definitely would, and having photographic evidence that existed would be the icing on the cake. But as Joker looked up at Riddler he saw no worry, and it was't the kind born from false bravado. Edward must have already created a contingency to keep himself in the clear. This made Joker laugh more.

That laughter however was silenced abruptly by the clipping that was laid upon the bar before them. The Clown grimaced at the headline, threw back his second shot, and then thrust the paper right back at Riddler. "What's on my mind? What's on my mind!? I'll tell you what's on my mind, Edward! Gotham has gone to the dogs and these ancient mobster jackholes aren't helping! What does it say about our great city when The Clown Prince of Crime's exploits don't see print because everyone's obsessing over this Holiday Killer. I burned down two orphanages last week, one for the blind! And Holiday gets all this press and Bat-tention because they've killed two greasy mobsters in as many months? Where's the justice, I ask!"

Joker planted his elbows on the bar and rested his chin atop his wrists as he pouted, comically so with bottom lip jutted outward as he sighed heavily. "If only there was some egghead, clue-solving lunatic who could unravel this mystery..." Another wistful sigh and Joker lolled his head to the side so that his stark green eyes fell on Riddler. Hint hint.

Edward Nigma