"Welcome our beautiful ladies to the floor!"
Inside the banquet hall of the Addison Hotel, the Master of Ceremonies' voice boomed over the speakers. As the applause swelled, a line of glamorous models strutted in from the wings.
Tonight was the anniversary gala hosted by Maxim Men's Magazine. The guest list was a Who's Who of New York—celebrities, politicians, and old money.
Yet, among them, the center of gravity was undoubtedly the man sporting gold-rimmed sunglasses and a meticulously groomed, flamboyant mustache.
Tony Stark.
A true apex predator of New York's social scene. As the head of Stark Industries, his wealth was immeasurable. Even putting aside his money, he possessed one of the most brilliant minds on the planet. How could such a person not be the center of attention, especially given his reputation as an unapologetic playboy?
In the crowd, models dressed in haute couture moved freely, yet their gazes all seemed to gravitate toward Stark like iron filings to a magnet.
"I knew it. I shouldn't have come to any party where you're present," a voice sighed.
"Hey! Come on, Rhodey," Tony grinned, clinking his glass against the formally dressed James Rhodes without a hint of shame. "That's just charisma!"
Without waiting for a rebuttal, Tony drifted toward a model with a particularly striking figure. He paused only briefly to glance over his shoulder.
"Do you really not mind at all, Pepper?"
"..."
Pepper Potts didn't reply. Her eyes were fixed on Tony's retreating back, her knuckles turning slightly white as she gripped the stem of her wine glass.
Rhodes chuckled softly and shook his head, tactfully dropping the subject to spare her the embarrassment.
Just as the banquet's atmosphere was reaching its hedonistic peak, the heavy double doors of the hall swung open with a sharp bang.
A group of uninvited guests stood in the threshold.
Leading them was a pale man in a purple suit. He walked with a strange, disjointed gait, chewing gum with a manic, unrestrained energy. Two gruesome scars stretched from the corners of his mouth, giving him a permanent, ghastly smile. Behind him stood a dozen thugs wearing clown masks and carrying automatic rifles.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
The pale man's voice was raspy, sliding between octaves.
"Tonight, I'll provide some... entertainment for everyone."
As he spoke, he sauntered to the center of the stage, casually plucking a rose from a vase and sniffing it theatrically.
Although there was no shortage of high-ranking and powerful people present, their eyes immediately locked onto the "great equalizers" in the hands of the Joker Gang thugs.
They were very sensible people. The room fell silent.
"OK, everyone is being very cooperative. That's good," the Joker nodded, tossing the rose aside. "So, tell me..."
He leaned forward, his eyes scanning the terrified crowd.
"Where is... Tony Stark?"
Dead silence.
The Joker's manic presence was suffocating. Although the guests were afraid, panic hadn't fully set in yet. To these elites, this was just a robbery. Everyone present was a New York celebrity; as long as the gunman wasn't brain-dead, he wouldn't pose a real threat to their lives. He was likely just looking for money or leverage. There was no need for them to offend Tony Stark by ratting him out.
Even if most of the men present found Tony quite annoying.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"
Seeing that he was being ignored, the Joker downed the glass of wine he had swiped from a table. In one fluid motion, he snatched a shotgun from the hands of a thug beside him.
Staggering slightly, he walked up to a trembling lady in an evening gown. He pressed the cold barrel of the shotgun against her cheek, tilted his head, and whispered intimately.
"Do you know where Tony Stark is?"
"No, no, no..." she stammered, tears welling up. "He left with a model a long time ago. I don't know where he is. It's true, please don't hurt me."
Seeing the lady trembling like a leaf, the Joker shrugged helplessly.
"It seems you really don't know."
He spun around, turning the barrel to place it against the chest of a well-dressed man nearby.
"Now, sir. I assume you won't disappoint me, right?"
"Sir, I... I really don't know," the man answered, his voice shaking.
Any intelligent person knew that targeting a high-profile gathering like this was suicide. The NYPD response time would be faster than they could imagine. But looking into the Joker's eyes, the man realized something terrifying: This man doesn't care.
At the Stacy residence, Captain George Stacy, who had just finished his shift and was enjoying dinner with his family, stared at his phone in astonishment.
"What? The Joker Gang attacked the Addison Hotel?"
His face went pale. "Those lunatics!!"
George Stacy hung up the phone in a rage, knocking his chair over as he grabbed his coat.
The Joker Gang. They were a new malignancy that had recently emerged from Hell's Kitchen. Although few in number, they acted with extreme madness. Their crimes didn't seem to have a purpose; they were purely for chaos. Because of this unpredictable style, they had risen through the underworld ranks at a terrifying pace.
When George first saw the case file photo of the Joker, he knew New York was in for a storm.
This man... he was simply the definition of madness.
"Daddy, stay safe!"
Seeing her father's anxious expression, Gwen Stacy didn't ask questions. She simply helped him gather his badge and keys. But the name "Joker" etched itself into her mind.
Anyone who could make her father, a veteran captain, look that terrified was definitely not a simple criminal.
Watching George rush out the door, Gwen went back to her room and opened her laptop. She typed "Joker" into the search bar, hoping for information.
But the only results were playing cards, bad poker strategies, and advertisements for magic shops. There was no digital footprint for this monster yet.
Downstairs at the Addison Hotel, the scene was already a circus.
Police cruisers with flashing lights surrounded the entrance, and a perimeter had been established. But when Captain Stacy arrived, he had to fight his way through a wall of reporters.
News vans crowded the edge of the cordon, making it impenetrable. Before Stacy's arrival, the officers on the scene didn't dare speak to the media. This incident was too severe.
Inside that hotel were billionaires, celebrities, and political donors. Many of them were direct sponsors of the Police Department. If these people were hurt, the backlash would tear the department apart.
And even without counting the others, the name Tony Stark alone was enough to give the entire city a headache.
"Captain Stacy! Captain!" A reporter shoved a microphone in his face. "What are your thoughts on this terrorist incident?"
"Can you rescue the hostages?"
"Did the NYPD have any prior knowledge about this criminal, the Joker?"
Stacy grit his teeth, pushing past the cameras. The show had begun.
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