cute-clown-extraordinaire:
Heartbroken, Joker dedicated himself fully to work. He won the election, and he was quick to start making changes to the city. He helped renovate and reinforce the security measures at Arkham, and made sure the patients got proper psychiatric care. He even had a hand in designing a new meal plan for them. He figured he owed his ex-colleagues decent food for locking them up.
In the absence of Batman and his more fantastical foes, organized crime flourished. Joker was eager to establish relations with the families of the mob, going so far as to frame Gordon and fire all of his loyalists from the GCPD. Despite how it seemed, it really wasn’t personal. He couldn’t build his empire without cutting out those who’d challenge his reign.
With help from his questionable connections, he found the funding for social programs across the city. Sure, most of them were fronts for less legal activities, but the facilities themselves were run properly by the right people. Homeless shelters, foster homes for youths, a new hospital, and a poverty alleviation initiative - his popularity soared among young voters, all the while he kept his shady friends happy. He even managed to secure partnerships with some of his old contacts, those who could buy themselves out of Arkham.
He knew it was only a matter of time for the Bat to show up. He was banking on it. However, even though he expected it to happen, seeing that familiar silhouette emerge from the shadows still made his heart skip a beat. Hearing that voice speak his name was almost enough to shake his resolve.
“…Batsy?” He called out, eyes wide with hope and awe as he stood from his chair. He wanted to run to his beloved Bat and welcome him back with open arms. However, memories of that night in the cell halted his steps, steeling his heart.
“You should know the law hasn’t changed - vigilantism is still very illegal, Mr. Wayne.” He smiled, the expression lacking all warmth. “I’d ask how you managed to get past my security, but the answer is rather obvious, isn’t it. You’re Batman, and there’s no place in Gotham the Bat can’t infiltrate.” His words were mocking. He strolled around his desk, and leaned to sit against its edge.
“What do you want?” He folded his arms across his chest, gaze cold. “If you’re looking for an official pardon, it’s a bit too late for that.”
‘I’m here to warn you.’ He says simply. Moving across the room like some kind of angel of death (tough its commonly known that the Bat would never kill. ) ‘You will not get away with this. I know exactly what you’re up to.’
‘Come clean to Gotham and her people, Jack.’ Batman says, eyes narrowing on ‘Jack’s’ frame. ‘And everything can end here.’ Somehow, this time, he keeps any sign of aggression or threat out of his tone.
‘I don’t want this to escalate. But it will.’ He’d do anything to protect Gotham. But he must tread carefully; he cannot go back to whaling on criminals for his own sick reasons. He needs to remain collected or lose the chance to rebuild trust amongst the people.
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