Joker

Something was happening in Gotham City, and it was very, very purple.

A man in a bright purple suit had appeared on every television screen in town, his wild green hair sticking out in every direction, his huge red smile stretching practically to his ears. He wagged one white-gloved finger at the camera.

"Hello, Gotham!" he announced in a voice like a carnival barker. "The name is Joker — and tonight, the fun… begins! HA HA HA!"

Then he cut to a commercial. Nobody knew what he meant.

They found out the next morning. Every single statue in Gotham's Grand Museum had been swapped overnight. Can you picture it? The stately statue of Gotham's founder now wore a tiny hat and held a rubber chicken. The marble knight in the east wing had been given a polka-dot umbrella. Nobody had heard a thing. Nobody had seen anything at all. And stuck to every switched statue was a little purple card that read: HA HA HA.

In the Batcave beneath Wayne Manor, Batman studied the calling card under his magnifying glass. Alfred stood behind him with a fresh cup of tea.

"The Joker," Batman said quietly, turning the card over in his gloved hand. "He's back."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I do hope he's left the whoopee cushions at home this time."

Batman was already at the computer, pulling up the city map. Funland Amusement Park on the eastern waterfront — that was where the Joker liked to hide. The old park had been closed for years, but its roller coasters still creaked in the sea wind, and its carousel still turned in slow, ghostly circles when nobody was watching.

WHOOSH — the Batmobile roared through the tunnel and launched into the Gotham night.

At Funland, the Joker had set up his headquarters in the old Tilt-a-Whirl building. He paced around a table covered in blueprints, chuckling to himself. His orange tie was crooked. His green hair was frizzier than ever. On the table sat an enormous contraption made of clock springs and rubber bands and one very large horn.

"Phase two!" the Joker declared to nobody in particular. "Giant balloons over Gotham Square! Every single one shaped like ME! HA HA HA!"

He had barely finished the sentence when the lights went out.

CLICK. A tiny beam of light cut through the darkness. And then a low, calm voice:

"Joker."

The Joker froze. Then he spun around and grinned his enormous grin. "Batman! Oh, I was HOPING you'd come! Did you see what I did to the museum? Pretty good, wasn't it? HA HA!"

Batman stepped forward, his cape settling around him like folded wings. "I'm taking you back to Arkham Asylum. You know how this ends."

"Oh, you are so SERIOUS," the Joker sighed, and then — FWOOOOOM — he fired a blast of purple confetti from a cannon hidden in his sleeve, filling the entire room with swirling purple snow.

Batman had prepared for exactly this. He pulled his grapnel gun, fired it up through the ceiling hatch, and swung clear of the confetti cloud — WHOOSH — landing right behind the Joker. One snap of the Batarang tangled around the Joker's ankles, and the clown went down in a heap of purple fabric, still chuckling.

"You always catch me," the Joker said cheerfully, looking up from the floor with his enormous grin. "And I always escape. And then I come back. And then you catch me again. Do you know what that is, Batman?"

Batman looked at him steadily. "What?"

"A PERFECT partnership! HA HA HA HA HA!"

Batman did not laugh. But — just for the tiniest moment — the corner of his mouth may have moved.

The Gotham City Police Department arrived in five minutes. Commissioner Gordon shook his head at the pile of confetti and rubber chickens scattered across the warehouse floor.

"Batman?" he called into the dark.

But Batman was already gone, a shadow flicking up over the rooftop and disappearing into the silver fog.

In his cell at Arkham Asylum, the Joker settled onto his cot, folded his hands behind his head, and smiled his enormous smile at the ceiling. "He'll be back," he said happily. "HA HA HA."

And somewhere in the Batcave, crouched over his computer, Batman allowed himself one very small, very private smile.

Because Gotham had its serious, watchful guardian. And the Joker would always be the reminder that not everyone sees the world the same way. And that was — in a very strange way — exactly why the balance mattered.