Who: Terry McGinnis and the Joker What: Be vewy vewy qwiet! Hunting BATS! Where: Several miles from MacArthur Park When: [BACKDATED] evening, while the gun giveaway is going on. Rating: PG, for some mild violence Status: log ; COMPLETED!
As if Bruce even had to text him, once he saw that message the Joker posted he was all suited up and jumping into the plane. Flipping switches and silent engine lights turning crimson on the inside of his control pannel, casting a reflective glow on his black suit. He responded to hte message in an a short, almost annoyed tone. "Already five steps ahead." The plane took off silently from the cave and into the open skies. It was different than Bruces cars. It was slimmer, faster, built for speed and agility unlike the Tumbler. Meant for sharp turns and arial tricks. "Just like home. Maybe worse.." He muttered to himself as he pushed the controls forward the plane seemed to cut through the sky as he started the direct path to the park. It hit him, if this Joker was as big a bad as the others made him out to be? Why would he be where they all expected him. Time to prove why he was version two, new and upgraded. Terry turned the plane to the left and decided to follow his gut. That's what Wayne would have told him to do, he was sure of it. He switched on the plane's video link to connect to Bruce's own. "I'll catch up, " He intercepted whatever worried words Bruce was about to voice.
When you went hunting for bats, you needed preparation, and patience.
And a very large net.
Sure, the Bat Man he'd known had used a car. But there was the matter of the bat-shaped jet reported to be seen some nights. The Joker always listened to the bums living on the streets. In some ways, he shared a kinship with them. They were close. Closer still after he'd watched all those little emotions flitter and flutter and die as they breathed their last. But before that rattle in their throats, he would hear the most interesting stories.
So casting his nets had been part chance, part... whatever might have been mistaken for reason. Sick curiosity, maybe.
The video unit he'd set up at the park was a stroke of genius. He'd patted himself on the back with a bum's hand after thinking it up. And seeing Batsy tearing off the masks of all the clowns he'd sent that way put a smile on his face. But it was the sight of that blacker-than-night shape in the sky, heading directly for the web of cables he'd set up to snag such a thing, that made him strut in a lively jig, watching for the impact.
Terry was frustrated to say the least. Bruce was treating him over the microphones in his ear piece as if he were brand new to the suit. Fresh to the gig. When it came to the real Joker he was. But he wasn't incapable. Wayne was treating him like he was just some kid. He was batman. He could understand why Bruce was reluctant to accept him , but it was still frustrating. How could he make himself be seen as a worth while person if Bruce wouldn't even let him step out of his shadow? He wasn't just some fake. He had a reason, Bruce knew that reason and still this happened. His hand gripped the controls white knuckled as he flew forward, distracted he barely saw the cables. His eyes widened. There was no time to do anything. It was hit the web of cables. He could feel the wings of his plane being torn at, and sparks flying as they cut through the solid black metal. The red lights on the control pannel were blinking furiously. "I know I know!" He shouted at it in attempt to pull up, but the plane was falling. There was nothing he could do. He could feel the heat as the wings caught fire and unbuckled the seat belts as fast as he could. The plane crashed into the pavement, and for a moment he felt his vision fade as his head struck the control pannel. He'd feel that later. The plane looked totaled from the outside. The kid couldn't even open the window anymore-the down side to power everything. He was focred to break it, thrusting a gloved fist through the glass and quickly landed on his feet, thankful for solid ground. He looked up and focused in on the webs"..What the hell?"
The Joker was skipping. It was a fun, leisurely way to approach, that also provided the appropriate feeling. He was a bit giddy about how well that little trick had worked out. He skipped-to-his-lou over to the broken remains of the jet, picking up a thick piece of twisted metal, and laughed.
"Hee, ha hah, oh ho ho hee aha heh." He reached into a pocked on his purple coat, and took out a small hand-held device. Batsy loved his techy stuff, didn't he? Most of them did. Radios and videos and all those fancy things. The Joker was a man of simple tastes. Blades, bullets, gasoline... they didn't need batteries to work. The machine in the palm of his hand did, but that was fine. It would do it's job, and die, and anything electronic in a five-block radius would die along with it.
He pressed the button, and laughed again, positively cackling, when the street lights were extinguished. His own video feed was gone then too, but he didn't care so much about that. This would be positively more entertaining.
He could feel his head throbbing as he stood on flat ground near the plane for a moment and just took in the sight of the smoldering wreckage. If he wasn't grounded before he so was now. He heard the sound of laughter and tensed. Maybe his detour was too good. First he pushed the button on the bat suit and went invisible. Of coarse it didn't last long. Once the electricity was out, so was the shield of invisibility. He appeared only a few feet from the legendary basket case himself. His eyes narrowed. "That wasn't nice." He said in a flat tone. "No apprecation for other peoples property."
Terry wasn't going to wait long to trade too much banter with the villain. That just wouldn't be smart. Especially if he really was everything the others were saying. But the obligatory first meeting trade of wit was a necessity just to test the waters. Seeing just what page or lack their of this "joker" was on. "Don't worry, I'll send you the repair bill." He smirked and took to a stance. Waiting and watching in the darkness. Trying the button for the infared in the cowl's visor in attempt to pick up the Joker's body heat. Nothing. Of course...it made him sigh in frustration as he was forced to adjust his sight to the darkness. To let his other senses pick up the slack, and falling silent to catch movement instead.
It was the Bat Brat! The Joker's own eyes were ready for the darkness. Once the lights went out, he tossed away the dark shades he'd been wearing, letting them clatter to the pavement several feet away. The Bat Brat started talking, but the Joker, for once, stayed quiet. Bats used sounds to see, didn't they?
Bat Brat. Not the real deal, not by any standards. Who did this kid think he was, dressed like this? If Batsy was letting him go on like this, then maybe Batsy had a reason.
Reasons. They didn't matter. Results did. So the Joker hefted the piece of metal he'd lifted in both hands, drew back, and swung the metal club at the back of the Bat Brat's head. Just to see the results of that.
The younger generation heard the sound and instantly his head turned in the direction he was so sure it'd landed in. There. That's where he had to be. He attempted to lunge for the Joker when something came fast and through the air. He didn't even have time to react. That's when it hit him, literally. Something heavy from the other direction and he felt a flash of heat and pain jolt through him before his body gave out. Everything stood still for a split second like time itself had stopped, his head felt like it was underwater-then a heavy silence. He was down for the count, and he really wished he'd taken Bruce and Oracle up on the hand to hand training.
Hmmph. It was kind of disappointing, how easy that had been. A few pieces of cable, and one quick hit, and he had a bat. Not a Bat Man, though. Just a Bat Brat. "Folly of youth," the Joker commented. Well, it wasn't the prize, but with a little work, this treat might work wonders. Someone the Batman permitted to parade around as him would be an amusing diversion for a while.
The Joker reached down, and picked up one booted foot. A schemer might have had a wheelbarrow or a wagon ready to cart the catch away, but the Joker was neither of those. Still, he was good enough at improvising when he needed to. Now was not one of those times, however, so he dragged the Bat Brat away in the cover of darkness.