Gotham Knights #18 - All Smiles
DC Next presents:
In The Best Medicine Issue Eighteen: All Smiles
Written by AdamantAce
Edited by Dwright5252
& PatrollinTheMojave <<
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Months of preparation, highs and lows, a hundred challenges. Everything had been leading to this moment. Pitch darkness. That was their cue. Lights up: beams of green and pink hit the stage, spotlights spun frantically. The crowd was adoring, their eyes fixed forward. An attentive audience. Showtime.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and those who know better…!” The red-and-black clad Harley Quinn leapt onto the stage with a cartwheel. “Allow me to introduce the crook who’s gonna take Gotham by storm!”
Harley slung a three-barreled launcher under her arm and aimed it out into the audience. She pulled the trigger and the crowd flinched as the blast sent her staggered back. Harmless silver confetti rained down onto the crowd as the lights continued to spin, welcoming Harley’s much awaited counterpart to the stage. A man with a high-collared, dark violet long coat, a dirty pink shirt, messy green hair and a chalked white face. The Joker.
He walked forward with no urgency, joining Harley on the stage. He knew he had the whole room’s attention; he didn’t need to play for laughs. A silver glint moved from his pocket. He raised a handgun to the air and discharged three shots. Now he commanded silence. Finally, he swept his scowl away and looked up into the heavens, the intense lights on his face. He beamed a putrid grin, highlighting the blood red smear painted from ear to ear.
“Good evening, Gotham!!” he boomed with jubilation. “Thank you for all your patience, but after some time away, the prodigal son has made his repentant return!”
That wasn’t funny. In the audience, Dick Grayson had already seen through the man’s facade. While the detective’s wily eyes had scanned the area, locating and keeping count of the clown’s henchmen and identifying all the exits, it didn’t take much scrutiny to see that the man on stage was not the Clown Prince of Crime. The Joker - the one Dick had come up against many times as Robin - was old, with a warped, wrinkled face bleached white by toxic chemicals. The real Joker’s hair was permanently stained an emerald green, his wretched rictus grin unnaturally wide. The man on the stage was younger, with an arguably handsome face caked in ridiculous makeup; the white of his face and the black of his sunken eyes were already beginning to run as he sweated beneath the stage lights. His hair was a mossy colour, badly dyed and revealing streaks of blond underneath. Nonetheless, the older, more hyperactive Harley Quinn was the genuine article. She had been missing ever since Joker disappeared after his dealings with Ra’s al Ghul. It didn’t take much detective work to figure out what she had been up to since.
“What... do we have here?” the supposed Joker crept around the front of the stage, eyeing up the several people of interest on the front row before settling on the two figures cowering by their podiums beside them on the stage. Councilwoman Maria Noctua and Comptroller Sebastian Hady - the mayoral candidates. He crouched down beside Hady, a large man who cowered nonetheless in the presence of a madman with a gun. Slowly and deliberately, the clown leaned in and took a deep breath, taking in the politician’s musk. The real Joker was unpredictable, some days bouncing off the walls, and others with a slow, terrifying intensity. This man embodied the latter well. He grinned and stood back up, addressing the crowd.
“We haven’t even introduced ourselves!” he cried. “This is Harley, the magnanimous love of my life!”
A Joker that actually seemed to appreciate her? Dick thought to himself. Harley chose well.
“And I…” he began, “I am the Jester of Genocide, the Harlequin of Hate, the Almighty Ace of Knaves. But you can call me Joker.”
Dick looked through the fear-paralysed crowd. Were they convinced by his charade? After all, few Gothamites could claim to have seen the real Joker as far up close as Dick had. Maybe it didn’t matter if he was the real deal. Maybe it was terrifying enough that he was willing to dress up the way he was and shoot up City Hall.
“Don’t be alarmed!” Joker exclaimed. “We mean you no harm. Well… most of you. The legacy of laughing fish, Joker gas and explosive parade floats ended when the Batman kicked the bucket!”
Harley stepped forward from behind. She scooped Councilwoman Noctua up off of the ground and held a knife to her throat. “Tonight starts with these two!” she called out. She stood in her skintight jester’s outfit, a look Dick hadn’t seen her in for a decade. Perhaps it was a sentimental return to old times. “I’ll let my Puddin’ spin ya a yarn!”
“Sebastian Hady and Maria Noctua!” Joker continued. “The best potential leaders Gotham has to offer? That’s a joke.” He raised his silver handgun and pointed it down towards the comptroller. “Sebastian Hady is a bad man. And I don’t just mean because he’s a Republican!”
Silence. Fathers stood in fear, mothers struggled to cover the eyes, ears and mouths of their children.
“It’s okay, you’re allowed to laugh! It’s funny,” Joker cried. “Sebastian Hady, our beloved comptroller, lord of the city’s finances, humble custodian of your pensions! Lives in a big mansion in Burnside, did you know that?”
Hady squirmed on the floor.
“Those aren’t cheap,” Joker continued. “You don’t get that rich on a civil servant’s salary. But when you’re in charge of the big bucks, you can afford to skim the cream now and then. You can also afford to pull favours for dangerous, powerful people. Sounds like an effective way to get little boys and girls sent to your mansion in Burnside and make sure no-one finds out.”
Joker snapped his fingers and the lights went down. A moment later, a projection flickered to life on the back wall of the stage, casted from the lighting: several written letters between Comptroller Hady and the likes of Carl Grissom, Roland Daggett and known human trafficker Felipe Garzonasa. Hady looked up to the clown, dumbfounded.
“That’s right, suga” Harley interjected. “We know.”
“And now you know too, Gotham,” Joker smiled. “You’re welcome.”
The crowd broke out into a murmur of shocked and disgusted voices. Hady had been in public office for years. If these claims were true, there was no telling how long these atrocities had been happening.
“Vote Noctua, then. Right?” Joker shouted over them. “Well, I suppose she’s the lesser of two evils. That’s usually the way. Her reputation’s mostly clean. After all, Penguin wouldn’t wanna sponsor another kiddie fiddler, would he?!”
With one hand holding her blade to the Councilwoman’s throat, Harley pressed a small clicker with the other, advancing the slideshow cast behind them to show grainy photographs of the politician's shadowy rendezvous with Oswald Cobblepot.
“He knew he’d be caught before he could get elected,” Joker explained. “He wasn’t stupid. So he planted a reasonable opponent for Hady and set her up to be his puppet!”
From among the crowd, Dick knew the onlookers were getting more and more restless, growing wrathful. It was as if they weren’t afraid of the clown-themed terrorist before them, instead turning their rage on the candidates.
“That… is our gift to you, Gotham!” Joker made sure he was addressing the cameras set to televise the debate, now operated by his own men. “No more shall this city be lied to, terrorised and made to feel guilt for the darkness and corruption stoked by men in high towers. The men and women on the street aren’t the problem - as much as Robin, Huntress or Batwoman would have you believe otherwise. They brutalise us, keep us indoors, while the rich bastards they and Monarch Security protect profit off of our despair. We are left in unemployment, poverty, hunger - utter chaos. We cry out for help, and what do they tell us? * ‘The world is a chaotic place’.”
The impostor Joker backhanded Sebastian Hady with the butt of his gun, knocking him to the ground.
“The world is a chaotic place for us when families like the Waynes keep a tight grip on all the order, living in comfort. Their only fear is us getting wise to it. They only struggled when harsh words came out about their loving daddy up in Heaven, when we caught them lying about ol’ Brucie. And what did they do? To protect their company, to make sure they got to keep living in luxury, they put the suffering on us. Thousands of jobs at their factories cut to please the board. This city is at the mercy of industrialists like Wayne, like Kord. And the police and the Bats? All they ever do is strike out against any that dares to challenge that.”
Harley dropped Maria Noctua to the ground, taken in entirely by her beloved’s impassioned speech.
“So I say this to you, Gotham,” Joker tensed. “Do you want to keep living in a city of chaos, or do you want to seize the day? Cast your vote.”
Joker looked forward to both Comptroller Hady and Councilwoman Noctua, counting between them. “Eenie, meenie, miney...” His finger settled on the councilwoman. In one swift motion, he levelled his handgun and fired a shot into the Penguin-aligned candidate’s head. Maria Noctua tumbled to the ground, and as the crowd erupted, Joker kicked the surviving Hady down into the audience below. That second, the crowd surged forward, breaking into a frenzied mob to pounce upon the corrupt politician. At the same time, the police staffing the event, previously too frigid to act, opened fire, both on Joker and Harley and their goons, only for the men in clown masks to return fire, beginning a firefight with hundreds of civilians in the midst of it. Dick Grayson cried out in protest, terrified for the civilians that would be caught in the crossfire, but this voice was drowned out by the gunfire and roaring voices that filled the room.
Dick watched as Joker and Harley made their escape, deftly avoiding the GCPD’s gunfire and disappearing behind the curtains while their underlings vanished through the back doors, but as he joined his fellow police officers in protecting the crowd from the clowns, and Hady from the wrath of the crowd, he was confident in the fact that allies were inbound to intercept the brightly-coloured villain duo.
♦ ♦ 🦇 ♦ ♦
Harley Quinn and her new Joker came tumbling out of City Hall and into the back alleys of Grant Avenue. There, they made a dash for their getaway vehicle, a purple souped-up 1978 Dodge sedan. They had left three goons to keep the engine running, but as they turned the corner into the alley they had left them in, Harley quickly realised they should have left more. The three clowns were laid out across the grimy floor, unconscious, hands bound. Worse still, someone had boosted the car’s tires, leaving the rims resting on bricks.
“What the hell!?” Harley cried out. “Is this some kinda joke?”
“With me,” Joker spat, leading Harley in another direction. But they wouldn’t get far, as down from the sky swooped two shadows, cutting through the air. As the villains turned left, the violet-clad Huntress landed to block their path, her black cape billowing. They turned right, only to be blocked by the red, green and yellow-clad Young Adult Wonder, Robin.
“Where’d you find this one, Quinn?” Robin sneered while stepping towards them, a silver tire iron clenched tightly in his grip. If she was getting her Robins right, Harley remembered that this one had history with her Mistah J, the one she had lost. Despite her insistence to the contrary, he had kidnapped the kid only a couple years into the second Robin’s career. Nearly killed him. And from the look of anger on the kid’s face, it was clear Robin wasn’t over it.
“Surrender, both of you, before it’s too late!” Huntress cried out.
But Joker stood his ground. “We didn’t hurt anyone, is it against the law to tell the truth in front of an audience?”
“You shot a councillor in the head!” Huntress replied.
“Did I?” leered Joker, “I hardly noticed.”
“Whadda we do, Mistah J?” asked Harley, her back pressed against his, holding a knife in one hand and a handgun in the other.
Joker smirked. “We wait for the chaos to unfold.”
Then, from around the street corner, half a dozen men in clown masks leapt from concealment, charging at the Teen Wonder. The first two threw out punches and were swiftly knocked to the ground with a hit from the tire iron. But as the young vigilante was extended, the other men jumped in, grabbing him by the arms to restrain him and beginning to beat him.
“Robin!” Huntress called out, leaping to his side.
“Now!” Joker snickered, ushering Harley to join him in his escape in the moment’s opening. But they didn’t anticipate the degree to which the young girl vigilante had come prepared.
In less than a minute, Huntress and Robin dismantled the remaining goons and turned back to face the fleeing villains. They nodded to each other then split up, with Robin sprinting below and Huntress using her grapnel gun to sail above, carried by the wind under her cape. They weren’t going to catch up to them, but they didn’t need to, as Huntress retrieved the golden crossbow from her leg holster and aimed it well. Under the interesting challenge of falling through the air quite rapidly, she fired three shots, discharging three small projectiles through the air. The first two missed by a margin, expected under such conditions, but the third split into two prongs and hit Harley dead in her lower back. With the press of a button on Huntress’ utility belt, the taser bolt activated, pumping thirty thousand volts (at a sufficiently low current) into the veteran criminal. There was little Quinn could do as her muscles seized and she collapsed to the ground.
As Huntress closed the gap, with Robin close by on the ground, they could see the new Joker mouth something to his downed ally before taking off around the corner without her, leaving her behind.
♦ ♦ 🦇 ♦ ♦
“Where’s the Joker?” Jason sneered at Harley Quinn, who sat tied to a chair atop the Old Gotham Wayne Foundation building with state-of-the-art Batrope - more accurately a hyper-durable monofilament wire with a name far too long to memorise.
“I dunno!” Harley spat with a grin. “Sucker left me behind with you two bozos, didn’t say where he was headed.”
“I mean the real Joker!” Jason persisted. Batman’s nemesis had been unaccounted since before Bruce died, long presumed dead. But it was always suspected that Harley went along with him, meaning now anything was possible.
“Six feet under for all I know!” Harley replied brazenly. “Afta two years, you give up hope pretty quick.”
“And this new kid?” Helena took a step closer. “What did you do to him?”
“What did I do ta’ him?” Harley cackled. “Well I didn’t toss him in a vat of acid, if that’s what yer askin’!”
“Then where did he come from?” Helena asked. “Who is he?”
“Just a kindred spirit with his eyes on the bigger picture,” Harley replied. “I did my grieving forever ago. Figgered the old Mistah J was toast and decided the world needed a new one. Found ‘im on the internet!”
“Where is he now?” Jason asked, but Harley ignored him, cutting him off.
“He’s just wonderful. Mind of a genius, an unquenchable thirst for pullin’ one over on the big guys, an’ an unwavering commitment to gettin’ what he wants.” It was clear she was more than a bit taken by the man a decade her junior.
“The real Joker wasn’t committed to anything!” Jason exclaimed.
“Oh, of course he wasn’t,” Harley laughed. “He’d be too dangerous if he was!”
Before Jason and Helena could waste any more time trying to get information from her, a door behind them burst open. Jason turned and looked to the roof-access door off of it’s hinges, with armed police charging through it.
“Oh shit, it’s the piggies!!” Harley squealed in jest, veering back on the hind legs of her chair.
Jason searched their faces, identifying those of a dozen GCPD QRT officers, led by Lieutenant Hennelly. Quickly, he and Helena stood back, allowing them to make the arrest, but as they levelled their weapons, it quickly became clear that there was no arrest to be made.
“Lieutenant?” spoke Helena, inching back into the path between the police and Quinn.
“Harley Quinn is a wanted terrorist and is highly dangerous,” spoke Hennelly plainly, pointing his AR-15.
“One that might have information on Joker’s whereabouts!” Jason reasoned aggressively.
“That’s not our concern,” Hennely replied.
“Well I’m not stickin’ around to see how this one plays out,” Harley chimed in, having shunted her chair up against the edge of the roof. “Adios, losers!”
And with another hop, Harley teetered off of the edge of the building, chair and all, and plummeted down. Jason, Helena, and the cops alike rushed to the edge and looked down, only to see she had vanished. Ever the escape artist.
♦ ♦ 🦇 ♦ ♦
Dick pulled the curtains to, making sure no prying eyes could peer into the decrepit old safehouse he was holed up in. Behind him, Sebastian Hady paced back and forth, drenched in his own sweat. The politician had long since discarded his blazer and tie, and now had a police vest strapped tightly to his chest.
“I don’t get it, I was promised all records were scrubbed clean…” Hady cried.
Dick turned to face the spineless comptroller. What he had learned about the man was sickening. Thinking of all the wicked things he had done to Gotham’s most vulnerable… It made the young detective sick. Why the new Joker would shoot Noctua instead of him eluded Dick, not that it was his place to judge. In that regard, this new clown was more like his predecessor than Dick gave him credit.
“So that’s an admission of guilt?” Dick replied, re-entering detective mode.
“Shit,” Hady stopped and placed his feet. He hung his head and cursed some more. “Fuck it, with what Joker showed the world, you’ve already got me dead to rights. I’m just lucky he didn’t kill me.”
“It’s not Joker and Harley you should be scared of,” Dick replied.
Hady raised his gaze. “No?”
“You’re here because, now that what you’re doing is out there, the whole city’s gunning for you,” Dick explained, looking him dead in the eye. “I’m sure plenty of cops would see you fall quietly through the cracks with a bullet through your head.”
Hady blinked, terrified. “But not you?”
Sebastian Hady was disgusting, a morally repugnant, corrupt politician with hands in the pockets of some of Gotham’s worst. He was exactly the type of scum that motivated Bruce Wayne to become Batman in the first place. But he was still a person. “But not me,” Dick replied.
A knock sounded at the door and - as was protocol - Grayson and Hady froze. After a few seconds, a familiar voice barked through the wooden frame. “Bravo, Hotel and Hotel, Juliet. Open up, we got a large pepperoni and fries.”
Dick exhaled his held breath and moved over to the door, removing the latch and turning the three locks. He opened the door to and behind it stood Sergeant Harvey Bullock and Detective Jamie Harper. The former pushed through the open door, barging past Grayson with his large and wide frame, with no patience for pleasantries. By contrast, Detective Harper shook Dick’s hand firmly as she entered the apartment. Dick shut the door behind them both and relocked each of the locks.
“I see you’ve kept our esteemed comptroller from killin’ himself!” Bullock spat with a clear disdain for Hady, provoking a wide-eyed look from the politician.
“He’s joking,” his police partner Harper continued to the shaken Hady.
“No, I’m really not,” Bullock sneered, travelling across the room and slumping himself down on the ragged couch by the window, his trenchcoat crumpling beneath him as he sat. “Good work, Grayson.”
“How bad is it out there?” Dick asked. He had been stuck guarding Hady for hours now while the manhunt for Harley and her Joker fanned across the city. He had also had no contact from Jason and Helena, nor from Kate and Betty for that matter.
“It’s madness,” Harper shook her head. “Pardon the pun. Things have been getting steadily worse since Batman died, gangs growing, criminals getting braver. And the people down in the Bowery, the Hill, Chinatown, the Cauldron - the working classes - they’ve been growing restless after how hard they were hit with everything with the… with Wayne Enterprises.”
“Right,” Dick hung his head. It was clear who was to blame on both of those fronts, if not to those who didn’t know better.
“But this new Joker’s speech, that show?” A look of dread spread over Jamie’s face. “This might be the spark to blow everything sky high.”
“Yeah, well if there’s no big scary Batman to keep ‘em indoors, I guess the cops ’ll have to stop playing so nice,” Bullock retorted.
“Sergeant,” Dick shook his head. “My family has caused plenty of pain with how we’ve mishandled Wayne Enterprises’ issues, and Batman’s death might have left a vacuum, but the police aren’t faultless here. Between us and Monarch, we’ve been batting too much for the big guys, including my family. If we come down hard on the people of Gotham, they’re only gonna resent and vilify the police more. We’ll only prove this impostor right.”
Bullock scoffed. He knew from Jim that Grayson was a piece of work, already neglecting his assigned cases to deal with personal affairs, but he always assumed the Commissioner exaggerated how cocky the kid was due to Grayson’s former relationship with his daughter. “Well, it’s a bit late for a gentle touch,” he jeered.
“What do you mean?” Dick’s ears pricked up. He watched Harper hang her head in shame and knew the news was bad.
“Hennelly and the QRT have gone gung ho, guns blazing. Tried to kill Quinn after the Bat-brats caught her,” Harvey replied.
“What?” Dick exclaimed. “On whose orders? Yours? Because it wouldn’t have been Gordon’s.”
Bullock spat. “I’m not one of those cops, not anymore. An’ if I was, I’d own it,” he explained, his eyes hot with insult. “Remember, Grayson, Gotham’s got the biggest population in the US, the highest crime rate and the biggest number of officers on the payroll. Even if a tiny fraction of us go rogue, people notice.”
“So that’s it, then?” Dick replied. “Just a few bad eggs?”
“A whole lotta them,” Bullock corrected him.
“That doesn’t mean we have to do the same,” Dick continued.
“They’ve forced the Commissioner’s hand, Dick,” Jamie shrugged, a frown across her face. “We can’t be divided. Not when the whole city is sizing up against us behind a sicko like the Joker.”
“The fake Joker,” Harvey added. “God knows why someone tryna bring about ‘good’ is stealing his schtick.”
“Names and symbols have power,” Dick mumbled, numb, disgusted at the state of things. “For good or for bad, depending on those wielding them.”
“The Commissioner’s making a press statement soon,” spoke Detective Harper, fetching the TV remote from across the room and activating the small television set across from Bullock.
The four present watched the flickering lights of the TV, tuned to GCN, waiting for the press release to begin. Seconds later, Dick felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. He retrieved it quickly, long overdue for an update from Jason or Helena, instead to see the caller ID reading ‘Luke Fox’. Sheepishly, he excused himself, pushing out into the hallway where he promptly answered the call.
“Luke, are you safe?” Dick began with urgency. Since being rescued from the clutches of the Penguin, the fledgling Batwing had done his best to stay out of trouble, his confidence severely knocked upon having to reckon with his fragility beneath his high-tech exosuit. Nonetheless, Gotham City was an even more dangerous place to be than usual tonight, especially for the son of the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.
“I’m safe, but they took Dad,” Luke spoke at a mile a minute, all the while clearly out of breath. “Men in clown masks, a whole mob, and Harley Quinn. I’ve traced the tracker I put in his wallet to Wayne Tower.”
“Luke, slow down,” Dick replied, trying his best to hide his own worry. “You bugged Lucius?”
“To protect him,” Luke answered. “You know how it is.”
“Why would they take him to the office?” Dick asked.
“Harley said they needed him to access the Wayne accounts.”
Dick shook his head. “Joker tried to turn the Wayne fortune against the city years ago.”
“I don’t think they want to use it against the city, Dick,” Luke cautioned.
But Dick pulled himself back to task. “Do you have your suit? Can you get it?”
“I can, but I can’t take on Wayne Tower alone,” Luke answered dutifully. “There were so many of them.”
“Okay, stay up,” Dick explained. “I’ll send help to your location.”
Dick grinned. “The new girl.”
♦ ♦ 🦇 ♦ ♦
On TV screens across Gotham, in homes, bars, and storefronts alike, Commissioner Jim Gordon stood in the centre of frame, the night behind him, with armed officers at his either side. A dour look was painted across his aged face, his eyes sunken, his brow caked in sweat. But he stood resolute and commanded the attention of the Gotham public.
“Citizens of Gotham City: Following the return of fugitive Dr Harleen Quinzel - better known as ‘Harley Quinn’ - and the emergence of an unidentified man claiming to be the Joker, we the GCPD have instituted a city-wide manhunt. But as the threat level increases, as looting and chaos have hit the streets, I must strongly urge the brave, good men and women to stay indoors. We appreciate the public’s concerns. We recognise the unjust degree of unrest. But due to the severity of the danger facing this city - and upon the advice of other senior leaders within the GCPD, and Mayor’s Office, as well as the FBI - I, Commissioner James Gordon, am now instituting an immediate lockdown. Return to your homes as soon as possible, stay off the streets, and allow us to do our jobs and apprehend these dangerous criminals.”
The sounds of shrill cries and vitriolic outrage poured from behind the camera as paparazzi snapped away at the police entourage.
“Anyone caught on the streets will be ushered inside,” Gordon explained. “And any who resist will be arrested. I cannot stress to you enough that--zzzzt--zzttttttt---”
The news feed was cut, the GCN broadcast was immediately replaced with shaky footage from a grainy, handheld camera. As the static stabilised, the so-called Joker stared into the lens, having turned the camera on himself. Perceptive eyes would have immediately placed him on the Trigate Bridge connecting Burnley and the Bristol Township, up on a literal soapbox.
“Citizens of Gotham,” he began, much as the Commissioner just had. “Allow me to introduce you to the newest recruits to the cause!”
He turned the camera around briefly, panning across the small horde of men and women with white and red paint smeared across their faces, or the more prepared wearing cheap plastic clown masks. All of them carried large placards with messages such as ‘Gotham for the Many’, ‘Fuck Batman’, and ‘Death to the Waynes’. Their leader quickly turned the camera back on himself. As he did - for a fraction of a second - he revealed the desiccated corpses of the reporter and camera operator he had appropriated his filming equipment from. “This is an open invitation to 99 percent of Gotham City: Ignore the trickery of the GCPD, join your brothers and sisters, and demand an end to the chaos we all are left to suffer in!”
The protestors roared in agreement.
“The universe is full of chaos!” he parrotted. “Good men spend their whole lives toiling away, working to succeed, in pursuit of that big ol’ American Dream. But they fail, they fall short nonetheless for no fault of their own. All because they weren’t born with the right privileges, because they weren’t adopted by the right millionaires. Because chaos wasn’t in their favour. Because life isn’t fair.”
The crowd jeered again.
“This injustice cannot continue. That is why I compel you to protect and secure what little control you have in this funhouse of fuckery. Don’t let the elite continue to keep you in boxes!”
The clowns cheered.
“The Commissioner’s lockdown isn’t to protect you. They don’t need you safe, they need you civil. It’s to give the GCPD a license to act as they’ve always wanted to: To pick out the insurgents, the angry, the discontent, and eliminate them! We cannot allow this to happen. We must rise up, pour onto the streets, reject the fear and shame they force upon us, and demand respect. They can’t arrest us all!”
The surrounding horde cried and screamed louder than ever before as Joker built to his crescendo. But a hush quickly fell over them as the clown had one last thing to add.
“It’s time we leveled the playing field. That’s why I’m toppling the Gotham elite, and uplifting those that need it,” he explained. “As we speak, my Harley and our good friends are raiding Wayne Technologies. And, with their computers and their nerds, we’ll redistribute the wealth of the overfed pigs of the city to you!”
The clowns roared in jubilation.
“Like you, I came from nothing, but now our voices will all be heard. The Batman has abandoned us, so now we have to look after ourselves.”
Next: Batwing and ‘the New Girl’ Take Wayne Tower in Batgirl #7
And The Madness Continues in Gotham Knights #19
Coming November 18th
submitted by AdamantAce
The joy of not knowing what you are doing
So I haven't played R6 in about a year now and recently decided after seeing some uh... fanart... on a certain R6 subreddit and falling in love with Cav's Elite skin that I should reinstall the game and reclaim my thrown as the Ultimate Casual. This was my experience.
First Game, Border
uneventful first round, choose buck, the game ended before I got inside the building. Round two, choose Cav, instantly got tked. Third round, choose Mossie, didn't get tked! stole the last kill.
Second game, Coastline
I think I did pretty well that game, played as Mossie, got quite a few kills, apart from the first round where I was shot immediately, actually yeah I got three kills and died far to many times.
Third game, Kaf dostoyeka... the Russian one
not much happened this game apart from when I was the last one left as Cav and played ring around the rosie with the enemy on the second floor while the other sat on the stairs trying to shoot me, and the only reason he did was because I had a massive lag spike just as I was about to kill him. Oh yeah then my team voted to kick me 3/4, it was a casual match.
Fourth game, Fortress
Oh baby did I pop off that game, choose Cav, downed Blackbeard, interrogated him, then I got a noice triple, mained Cav and dokkaebi the rest of the game, got MVP with 9 kills which is an A in my book!
Fifth game, Chalet
Played with some pretty sweaty team mates and enemies, though it was pretty fun and intense, didn't do to bad that game as well. Only downside was when we defended the bomb at basement, I put my reinforcements along the back wall of the wine cellar because in the previous round that's where we attacked from, so i thought I would reinforce those walls in case the enemies did the same, as I finished putting up my last reinforcement, a teammate started knifing me, I turned around and he pinged a wall on the otherside of the room, signalling me to place a reinforcement there, I shook my head to tell him I had none left to which he replied "thanks anyway" and I got an ace and carried our team to victory. nah jk he shot me in the head, though I think he did it for the lols and tbh it was pretty funny.
In short why did you read this?
and also the R6 community is the least toxic community in the world where everyone is there to help newcomers and old returning players get better while laughing, singing and dancing to the soviet union national anthem.
jk people shoot you in the face for picking their favourite character or missing an impossible shot... also I REALLY want Cav's Elite skin but I'm to poor to spend £16 lord help me
submitted by TigerX13