"Why... So... Serious?"
Why so serious?
Rhodes didn't know why the air felt so heavy in his lungs. Perhaps it was the primal fear of a predator standing inches from his face. Perhaps it was the realization that despite all his training, his rank, and his combat experience, he was paralyzed.
As a Colonel in the United States Air Force, Rhodes had stared down terrorists and warlords. But this... this was different. This wasn't a soldier. This was a void staring back at him.
"Hey, are you nervous?" The Joker whispered, his breath smelling of stale chemicals. "Is it because of my scars?"
The Joker stood comfortably within Rhodes' personal space, less than a fist's distance away. Rhodes' eyes flicked to the shotgun in the madman's hand.
'I can take him. Left hand parry, right hand strike to the throat. Disarm. Neutralize.'
The thought formed clearly in his mind, but his body refused to obey. His sixth sense screamed at him: Do not move.
Seeing Rhodes staring at the shotgun, the Joker's eyes crinkled in amusement. He seemed to hear Rhodes' internal calculus.
Instead of raising the weapon, he grinned—a wet, tearing sound—and casually tossed the shotgun onto the floor. Clatter.
He raised his empty hands, wiggling his fingers in front of Rhodes' face like a stage magician.
"See? No tricks."
This didn't make Rhodes lower his guard. It made his blood run cold. You can predict a gunman. You cannot predict a creature that disarms itself for fun.
"Hey... do you want to know how I got these scars?"
The Joker's hand shot out, cupping the back of Rhodes' head with a grip like iron. He pulled Rhodes forward, pressing their foreheads together in an intimate, grotesque embrace, forcing the Colonel to look deep into the ruined flesh of his mouth.
The Joker's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"My father... he was a drunkard."
"A demon..."
The Joker tilted his head, eyes drifting to the ceiling as if watching a memory play out in real-time.
"One night, he went off crazier than usual. He started beating my mother. My mother... she grabbed a kitchen knife to defend herself."
The Joker's expression darkened, a flash of genuine sorrow crossing his painted face.
"He didn't like that. Not. One. Bit."
"So, me watching... he took the knife to her, laughing while he did it."
The Joker leaned in closer, his eyes wide and unblinking, locking onto Rhodes' pupils.
"He turned to me, and he said..."
"Why so serious?"
The Joker's voice began to rise, manic energy vibrating through his frame. A switchblade appeared in his hand—like a magic trick—glinting under the chandelier lights.
"He came at me with the knife..."
"Why so serious!!"
"He stuck the blade in my mouth..."
The Joker jammed the cold steel into the corner of Rhodes' mouth. Rhodes flinched, but the grip on the back of his head held him fast. The blade tasted of oil and metal.
"Let's put a smile on that face!"
"And..."
The Joker roared, his eyes wide with ecstasy.
"WHY SO SERIOUS!"
Slash.
The blade jerked upward.
Blood sprayed across the pristine banquet floor. Rhodes collapsed to his knees, clutching his face, a guttural sound of agony tearing from his throat.
"NO!!"
"RHODEY!!"
Two screams pierced the air simultaneously.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A hail of gunfire erupted from the entrance. The Joker Gang members dropped like puppets with their strings cut, riddled with bullets before they could even raise their weapons.
At the entrance of the Banquet Hall, the heavy doors had been blasted open.
Tony Stark stood there, surrounded by a tactical team of Special Forces. His eyes were wide, staring in horror at his best friend bleeding on the floor.
Behind Rhodes, Pepper Potts covered her mouth, her face drained of all color, paralyzed by the violence.
"FUCK YOU!!"
Tony Stark, the man who usually hid behind witty quips and suits of armor, lost all composure. Consumed by blind rage, he snatched an automatic rifle from the soldier next to him. He didn't check the safety; he didn't check his aim. He just wanted to end it.
He raised the barrel toward the purple suit.
But the Joker was faster. Or perhaps... he had rehearsed this.
By the time Tony brought the sights up, the Joker was gone from the open floor.
He was behind Pepper.
A small, jagged knife was pressed against the soft skin of her throat. The Joker peeked out from behind her auburn hair, using her body as a human shield.
"Whoa... whoa... whoa...!"
The Joker tsked, shaking his head mockingly.
"Tony... you're too late!"
"Your friend paid the price for you."
The Joker giggled, the sound echoing in the silent hall.
"Look at him. That fresh smile... it's all because of you."
Tony froze. The rifle shook in his hands.
The room was littered with the bodies of mercenaries, yet the only one left standing—the one who mattered—looked completely at ease. Even with a dozen laser sights trained on his forehead, the Joker was smiling.
'A lunatic. A complete and utter lunatic.'
Tony's mind raced. When the attack started, he had bolted to get help. He had come back with the damn cavalry. He had done everything right.
And Rhodes was still bleeding out on the floor.
"Let her go," Tony snarled, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror. "Let Pepper go, and I walk away. I let you leave."
Tony bit his lip so hard it tasted of iron. He didn't care about justice. He didn't care about the law. He just couldn't lose Pepper too.
"Wow... Love!!"
The Joker looked at the ceiling, feigning being touched.
"You know, I once had a love like that. She was beautiful... she was a gambler..."
"State your conditions!!" Tony screamed, cutting him off. "I don't want to hear your crap! What do you want?! Money? A plane?"
"Wow... you're an impatient one," the Joker sighed, looking disappointed. "That's rude."
He smacked his lips and began to walk backward, dragging Pepper with him.
Step by step. Toward the floor-to-ceiling window.
"Don't..." Tony stepped forward, lowering the rifle. "Just stop."
The Joker didn't stop. He stopped only when his back was against the thick glass, the lights of New York City glittering behind him like diamonds.
"Let's see how deep your love really is."
Tony blinked. "What?"
Bang!
The Joker pulled a snub-nosed revolver from his jacket and fired blindly behind him.
The tempered glass shattered, instantly giving way to the howling wind of the New York night.
Tony flinched, raising the rifle again instinctively, but he froze when he saw Pepper dangling over the abyss. The Joker held her only by her wrist, half of her body swaying over the deadly drop.
"Hahahaha! The choice is yours, Mr. Stark!"
The Joker looked at Tony, his eyes burning with a demonic delight.
"No, no, no! Don't do it! Please!"
Tony threw the rifle to the ground. He held up his empty hands, tears stinging his eyes. He stripped himself of all arrogance, all pride. He was begging.
"We can talk! Whatever you want, take it! Just pull her back in!"
"Hmm..." The Joker tilted his head, considering the offer. "Wrong answer."
Tony's blood froze.
"Boring."
The Joker opened his hand.
Pepper screamed.
Gravity took hold instantly, pulling her down into the darkness of the city.
"PEPPER!!!"
Tony's world turned red.
Logic vanished. Genius evaporated. There was no plan, no suit, no thrusters. There was only the woman he loved falling to her death.
Driven by pure, unadulterated desperation, Tony Stark sprinted toward the broken window.
And he jumped.
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