Gotham City was in trouble—big trouble. Not only was it a problem for the government, but it was also a problem for the gangs. Never before had anyone dared to go against the entire city of Gotham, but the Joker did.
The bank robbery exposed the entire operation. Losing the money was a small matter, but this particular bank had been laundering money for almost all the gangs in Gotham. The exposure of the bank meant that their funds could no longer be cleaned, and they were at risk of being uncovered by government officials. So, the gangs gathered to prepare a punishment for the Joker. This behavior could not be tolerated.
Thus, the main gang leaders convened a meeting. On the agenda: discussing the laundering of money, and figuring out how to find the Joker and give him a good beating.
The gang leaders, dressed in suits, looked like corporate elites, sitting at two long tables, each one serious and focused. If the police had stormed this meeting, they could have captured two-thirds of Gotham's criminal power in one swoop.
"We lost fifty million dollars this time, that's our earnings for one quarter. We must find the Joker and get our money back," said a heavyset gangster with righteous indignation.
"Is my loss any smaller?" said an elderly man in his fifties. "But now's not the time to discuss losses. We need to find someone new, someone capable of laundering money for us."
It made sense, but finding a replacement for that bank wasn't going to be easy—it had taken a lot of time and effort to build up that relationship.
"Maybe we can contact New York?" someone suggested.
Immediately, someone else shot it down. "Are you crazy? The people on Wall Street are even more ruthless than us. I absolutely refuse to entrust our money to them."
The person who had suggested New York immediately fell silent.
The group sat, thinking hard about who could take over the job. It was tough. They needed someone with financial acumen who could also evade government scrutiny. Such people were few and far between.
Suddenly, someone spoke, breaking the silence. "What about that Chinese guy?"
That Chinese guy? Everyone recalled the Chinese businessman who had been very active in Gotham's underworld recently. He had been trying to convince them to invest their money with him.
"Are you talking about the guy from Hong Kong? I remember he's short, has a shifty look. Can he really do it?" someone asked. If they could get the money out of the country, that would be a good thing.
"He's in Hong Kong, and even Commissioner Gordon can't do anything about him. He also promised he could safely move the funds through international channels," said someone.
"He did guarantee that."
"How do we know he's not lying to us?"
"He wouldn't dare deceive us. We can have our accountants supervise the process."
The gang bosses discussed loudly, but this was indeed a good idea. As long as the supervision was done properly, they could rest easy. It was the 21st century now—gangs needed specialized talents and professional management to grow and thrive. The gang bosses were really not all that different from corporate managers.
"Then it's decided. Can we contact him now?"
"Anytime!"
A phone call was made, and a video conference immediately began. One of the gang members wheeled in a screen, and a thin Asian face appeared on it.
With a confident smile, the Hong Kong businessman knew these gangs had nowhere else to turn, so he was happy to negotiate terms: "Your accounts have already been exposed. Commissioner Gordon from Gotham City is bound to catch on soon, and your money will be frozen. The only chance you have is to transfer your funds while you can. I have accounts in multiple countries, and I also have connections in Gotham's central bank. You can rest assured and invest in me. I guarantee your money will be returned with profit."
The businessman was playing the game very well, using the gang's money to make a profit. The money could be cleaned in the process, and he would earn a fortune. It was a win-win plan that was impossible to refuse.
"You said the returns would be high."
"Absolutely high. You should know that our country's GDP growth rate is the highest in the world every year. I can guarantee the returns you will get will be higher than what you'd get at a bank," the businessman said confidently. As long as there was money, bigger profits could be made. Even as an illegal businessman, he could ride the coattails of his country's economic success.
The bosses exchanged glances, already tempted. They waved their hands, and the accountants behind or beside them stepped forward. These weren't ordinary bookkeepers—they were financial experts no less capable than Wall Street's finest. They went over the plan proposed by the businessman, ran the numbers, and finally nodded in agreement. It was feasible.
Only then did the bosses all nod in unison. "Liu, we agree to your plan."
"Great. I'll start preparing the paperwork and send you the bank account details."
Everything seemed settled. The gang bosses finally relaxed, at least knowing their money was safe for now. But their relief was cut short by a strange, intermittent laughter.
"Ha ha... heh heh... ho ho... ohoh…" The mocking laughter echoed from a corner, and a figure in a purple suit appeared in their view.
"Joker?" Just from the bizarre makeup, they knew who it was. At first, the bosses were stunned—shocked that the Joker had shown up—then furious, enraged by what he'd done.
"You've got some nerve showing up here. Aren't you afraid I'll have my men put you down?" a large Black man shouted, clearly one of those who'd lost a lot of money.
One of his men stepped forward, his size about the same as the Joker's.
"Let me show you a magic trick," the Joker said coldly, scanning the room. He pulled a pencil from his purple suit and stood it on end on the table. "I'm going to make this pencil disappear!"
Before anyone could react, his hands moved like lightning, grabbing the thug's head and slamming it down. The man's temple met the pencil point, and the pencil drove straight into his brain. The man collapsed, dead before he hit the floor.
Effortless, casual murder—this was the Joker, the smiling killer.
"Maniac." The bosses were stunned, too scared to make another move.
"That's right, I'm a maniac." The Joker sat down and swept his gaze across the room. "But this maniac wants you to think back a few years. Back then, no cops, no prosecutors dared touch you. You ruled free. And now? You don't dare go out at night, you huddle in the daylight for these little 'group therapy sessions.' What, you all gone soft?"
"…"
Someone tried to argue, but the Joker hit their fear right on the nose. "Batman." Yes, every gangster in the room feared Batman. "Look at you all. I bet whatever little plan you just cooked up with that Asian guy on screen—yes, plan—it's going to fail. Gordon might not be able to touch him, but Batman? Batman will find him, squeeze him, and get every detail. That guy will rat out you, and you, and you..." The Joker's gloved finger pointed at each of them. "He'll sell you all out."
The businessman on the screen couldn't take it anymore and cut the video. No point talking to a lunatic.
"Joker, what are you trying to say?"
The Joker's grin bloomed like a flower. "Kill Batman."
"You? You want to kill Batman?" The room filled with mocking laughter.
"A killer doesn't take a job unless it's worth it." The Joker named his price. "You all put up half of everything you've got, and I'll kill Batman for you."
"You're insane." It wasn't just the idea of killing Batman—the price alone was something only a madman would demand.
"Yes, I'm insane. But right now, we're not talking about Batman. Soon, the ones who'll lose their minds will be you." The Joker sneered. "Look at Harvey Dent, that smug little district attorney. He's just the first. More will come after him, more people standing up against you. Are you just going to sit here and wait for that? Soon, not only will you not get your money back, you won't even have a seat at the table."
What the Joker said wasn't just empty threats, but no one would ever agree to his price. The Black gangster slammed the table. "Enough, Joker." He'd heard enough. Even if he didn't get his money back, he was going to kill the Joker now to settle the score and avenge his man.
The Joker stood up quickly too, revealing a vest loaded with grenades under his purple suit. The pins were held loosely in his hand. "Let's not make things complicated. When you're ready to talk again, about Batman... let's chat."
The gangsters jumped back, terrified—they didn't want to die along with this madman.
The Joker pulled out a Joker card from his pocket. "My card. Call me when you're ready. I'm always available."
He left, but he knew it wouldn't be long before one of these gangs reached out to him. They needed someone to deal with Batman, and that meant the Joker's plan was already working.