“Helloooooo, Gotham. It’s me. Everyone’s favorite Clown Prince of Chaos. Bringing you another installment of ‘Gotham: This is your Life.'”
As it has been each time that the Joker’s image has appeared on televisions across Gotham, the scene is a grim one. Certain television shows will of course censor what is seen, but even still they’ll give their warnings of it being ‘Not for the Faint of Heart.’ With their little television ratings suggesting not to let children remain in the room. They’re right to do so of course. Keeping the children from being scarred for life by what is becoming an increasingly grisly view.
Talia al Ghul is beautiful by nearly any reckoning. Her features are that of genetic perfection. One might never look upon her and guess her age. At one time her skin was a state of perfection. Such that one would never guess at her real life-style. A testament of her ability, that her skill a fighter would allow her to navigate her life with hardly a single blemish to mark failure. Such is no longer the case. Her dress is now that of tatters. Leaving very little to the imagination if one were wondering about Talia’s figure. Those curves are easily made out now, what with her having been moved from a chair to being tied upright to a table. Her hands and feet splayed open in order present the woman as a target.
As the camera pans back it is all too easy to see that the surface she has been bound to is actually standing upright. With the Joker next to it. Blood mars the otherwise perfect face and body of the Princess. With each inch put upon display by the camera, it is easier and easier to see the woman’s peril. From the ball-gag preventing her from proper speech, to the cuts and scrapes lining her body from being the targetof every implement thrown at her. Of which there is plenty. Because apparently Talia has spent the time between broadcasts being the object of a game of darts.
Except that the darts range everything from actual darts, to throwing stars, daggers and that looks like an axe embedded in the wood just above her right ear. Her body on display making an excellent target as it’s been slowly exposed as her evening gown was cut away by more than a couple near misses. Those scars though.. those are from the not-so-misses.
“Christmas has come and gone. A new year has rung in. Yet still we have no answer to the one question plaguing our fair City.”
“I know, I get it. I do. It’s been a troubling quandary. Many of you didn’t even know he was gone. What with the game of pretend his sycophants play. Others of you were helpless. Sheep. Who looked to the Bat for protection. Now you’ve been left in a City of Sheep. Made all the more dangerous by the ‘Demon’ and his Goons combing the City.”
“Yes, yes. I know. I understand. I empathize with your pain. We’ve had someone taken from us. Someone dear to our hearts. Fear not, dear Gotham. I, the Joker, understand your pain and seek to find a way through this darkness for us all. But as my dear old friends at Arkham always said, true progress must begin with accepting your guilt.”
“Someone in Gotham took him from us. Whether you’re the one who did it,” a hand pumps the ‘wheel’ and sends Talia’s torture rack spinning in circles. “Or you simply know who did. You can come forward. Tell us who took our Batsy away. That’s all we really want. Isn’t it? A chance to know who took him from us.”
“Which is why we’re here. Now. With the Demon’s Spawn. She did not take our Bat from us, but her Father. A man who seeks to remain in the shadows. The Demon’s Head. Not merely the rambling of a demented psychopath, but an honest to goodness, immortal in our midst. He holds the answers. He can step from the Shadows and tell us what we need to know.”
“Gotham. I do not do this to force you to huddle in your homes. Scared. Alone. Afraid of the shadows that the Demon sends out among you. No. I do this to take back what we’ve lost with the Batman’s passing. To give us a chance to find what’s been taken from us. Join me. Fight Back against the Shadows. Stand up. Raise your fists and say…
“Who killed the Batman!?”
“Ra’s, baby. Tick-tock. Your time is almost up. If you act now, your baby girl can sign up for a Tweety Page and join the #MeToo movement.” Stepping away, so that the Cameras can once more pan to the clown disguised thugs and the other beautiful woman with pig-tails. Each of whom are happily playing their game of Darts with Talia’s life. “Otherwise. I’m afraid our next game is going to be a little more…”
Boss! Hey, Boss. There’s a problem. Dewy tripped and dropped the flame-thrower… it’s broken.
“… what?! Rats. How are we going to play Roasted Rumpus without a flame-thrower?!”
… well there’s still the pirahna tank, Boss…
“…pirahna? I asked for sharks…”
They were all out down at the pet-store.
“Oh. Bother. Well Gotham. It looks like we’re going to have take off those advertisements for Shark Week. Instead you’re going to get to see a Demon’s Bitch, fed to Pirahna. This is your last chance, Gotham. Our next big broadcast will be the last. A season finale for the ages. Who needs sharks anyway…”