World Gotham City Nights
Once upon a time, in a great, glittering city called Gotham City, night would fall the way it always did — softly, slowly, over tall towers and foggy harbors and long shadows stretching between the streetlamps.
Way up above all the rooftops, on the very top of GCPD headquarters, sat a giant spotlight known to everyone in the city as the Bat-Signal. Whenever trouble started brewing somewhere in Gotham City, Commissioner Gordon would climb the stairs to the roof and switch it on, sending a great beam of light swirling up into the clouds, shaped unmistakably like a bat.
For most people in Gotham City, that glowing light meant one thing: danger was near, but help was coming. For the Joker, though, it meant something a little different. To him, the Bat-Signal wasn't a warning at all. It was an invitation. A nightly reminder, glowing right there in the sky, that his favorite audience in the whole world was always, always watching.
He knew every single inch of that city, the way you might know every room of your own house. He knew Crime Alley, narrow and quiet, where shadows pooled thick even at noon on the sunniest day. He knew the glittering towers of the Diamond District, perfect, he always said, for a proper rooftop chase, full of ledges and fire escapes and flashing neon signs. He knew the old, rusting fairgrounds on the edge of town, home to his hidden workshop beneath the broken Ferris wheel. And he knew the long, creaking Gotham River Bridge, the site of more than one memorable Jokermobile crash over the years. He liked to joke, with a wink and his enormous red grin, that he had given Gotham City a personal tour nobody had ever actually asked for, complete with confetti, joy-buzzers, and a horn that honked out tumbling circus music the whole way through.
He also knew the quieter corners of the city, the ones most people rushed past without a second glance: the old clock tower near the harbor, its bells silent for years; the winding steps down to the subway platforms, perfect for a quick disappearing act; and the rooftop gardens above the Diamond District, where he sometimes paused, mid-chase, just to admire the view of the glittering skyline before Batman inevitably caught up.
Far outside the busy heart of the city, past rolling green lawns and quiet garden hedges, on a quiet, tree-lined hill, sat Wayne Manor, home to a wealthy man named Bruce Wayne. And here is a funny thing, if you think about it: the Joker had never once managed to connect that grand, quiet mansion to the man in the cape and cowl who kept catching him, night after night, no matter how many clues crossed his path over the years. Deep beneath that manor, hidden from the entire world, sat the Batcave, filled with gadgets and glowing screens and case files the Joker would have loved nothing more than to see for himself, just once, purely for the thrill of it.
And right in the center of it all stood GCPD headquarters, tall and steady, where Commissioner Gordon kept watch over the whole restless city through every foggy night, his radio crackling with reports of the Joker's very latest prank.
Every single night in Gotham City followed roughly the same gentle, familiar pattern. A scheme would unfold somewhere across the city — at the Mint, at the Museum, at Arkham Asylum, wherever the Joker's imagination happened to wander that week. The Bat-Signal would blaze to life against the clouds. And Batman, quiet and watchful, would appear to set things right again, usually within the hour, sometimes even sooner.
Did the Joker ever seem to mind losing, night after night, scheme after scheme, year after year? Not even a little bit. To him, Gotham City itself was the biggest, brightest stage in the whole wide world, and every single failed scheme was simply another act in one very long, very silly show that never, ever quite seemed to end. He would dust himself off, straighten his orange tie, and start planning the next act before the police wagon had even reached the end of the block.
Goodnight, Gotham City, glowing softly under your great beam of light. Somewhere out there, the Joker is already dreaming up tomorrow night's performance.