7080/City Fall: Confessions from Beyond the Grave: A Foot Inside the Door

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City Fall: Confessions from Beyond the Grave: A Foot Inside the Door
Date of Scene: 28 March 2019
Location: Gotham Hospital - Gotham City
Synopsis: Joker pays the injured Sal Maroni a visit, endearing himself with candy and learning about the new power trying to control Gotham.
Cast of Characters: Shredder, Joker
Tinyplot: City Fall

Shredder has posed:
    Sal Maroni is alive. Somewhat surprising, since he pissed off the current powers of the underworld in the Tri-state area. Who? Well, that's a little vague.

    "Will someone shut up that damn beeping?" Sal complains, reaching out to try to turn off the machine that's monitoring his vitals. "They said they could put it on silent, what kind of service is this place anyway?" he asks. His hand is wrapped, his eyes are both black from a broken nose, and his wide girth is wrapped, broken ribs from his altercation with the Foot. He shouldn't really complain, though. Unlike every other member of his gang present, Sal is alive. The others didn't suffer as much as he did, but their ends were gory. Cut in half, stabbed in the throat, broken necks. It was worthy of the six o'clock news to be certain.

Joker has posed:
Something was afoot in Gotham City, and it was the Foot. Joker hadn't been consulted, while vacationing in the luxurious Arkham Asylum. He didn't mind being locked up in Arkham Asylum this time, his recent Celiac Disease revealed with the help of his lawyer and a court-appointed doctor that had examined his foul state while eating olives by the handful in secret, in the Arkham cafeteria.

A nice all meat diet had been ordered for Joker, to test an experimental treatment for Celiac that he had signed up for, paid out of the pocket of Dagget Industries' pharmaceutical nutrition. A diet of meatballs and roast chicken on rotisserie, delivered to Joker in his cell personally by a paid valet from Roland Daggett, had certainly given Joker time to think. But at the news of Sal Maroni's brutal and mysterious beating, Joker had decided that it was time to go back to work.

Joker was a sensitive artist type, and such shocking news saddened him. It was time to act.

In a hallway in the hospital, a recent admission to the emergency room sits up from beneath a sheet. Sliding his legs off the gurney and doffing the sheet, Joker hops to the floor dressed as a surgical administrator, with green scrubs, a white mask, and a green surgical cap. His nametag reads, "Reginald Clouseaux".

He rounds the door into Sal Maroni's room, pulling his mask down and showing his grinning lips.

"Sorry, Sal, if the machine stops beeping, the angels can't pray for you." He closes the door behind him and steps up to Sal's bed, falling into a chair.

"Nice to see you, although I think the conditions could be better, couldn't they?"

Shredder has posed:
    Sal jumps, seeing that eerie grin of the Clown Prince. "Joker!?" he exclaims. "What do you want? You come to gloat over me? I ain't stepped on nothin' of yours while you was gone, you know that, right?" It's true, but the unpredictable nature of the white faced villain clearly has the older crime boss alarmed.

Joker has posed:
Joker produces a little donkey chuckle, leaning back in his chair with his long, gaunt posture, crossing his left leg over his right.

"Don't worry, Sal, I'm not here to put some insulin in your sugar supply. I know you need that candy you steal from babies. No, Sal, I'm here to help."

Joker's face darkens as he appraises Sal, his cheeks imperceptibly lengtening as his mouth goes slack from the smile as it fades.

"This is everyone's city, Gotham, you know. You've got industrial speculation and vice, Penguin's got the socialites, Falcone's got the real estate market and the city magistrates. I've got the face of our mutual opposition to Batty."

Joker exhales, and withdraws a Butterfinger from his pocket, poising it at his mouth, without removing the wrapper.

"But we all have to get along. Tell me, Sal, who ran the hit on you? I was locked up and nobody asked me, and I'm annoyed."

Staring directly into Sal's eyes, he bites slowly and crookedly into the Butterfinger from the side, his teeth cutting through the stretching wrapper as he slowly chews with a sidelong grind.

Shredder has posed:
    "Who?" Sal starts to laugh, but it hurts too much, and he coughs, making him winces even further from the cracked ribs. "The damn Japanese ninjas," he says. "They been pushin' around the whole city, sayin' we can have more if we take up their colors. Got the Penguin scared shitless. Haven't talked to Falcone, but a lot of the smaller gangs, they been real keen on the idea. They figure they'll take advantage while it's hot.

    He frowns. "They ain't the Bat, though, Joker, they don't take prisoners. I turned that little bitch down, and she didn't even blink." He holds up his hand. "Stabbed straight through it, killed my boys like they were a couple of rookies. Likely thought I was dead or she woulda finished the job."

Joker has posed:
The Joker produces a cold whisper, "The Japenese." Not Japanese. 'Japenese'.

Joker produces a low, rolling nod, as he peers from beneath his down-tilted eyebrows at the hand.

"I have long suspected Batman of being Japanese, you know. The Yakuza denies all rumors, but I once heard that crabmeat is actually shark. Odd coincidence, don't think, that both Batman, and Japanese crab, have secret identities?"

Dropping the subject, he slides his candy-bar back into his pocket, patting it, the exposed chocolate bar.

"I'm going to talk to some of the wannabe gangsters in the Cauldron. The Irish, they'll know. A ninja can't drink, Sal. It makes their heart feel love. Not the cold blackness of a culture devoted to wearing underwear at all times. I know that culture, Sal."

He narrows his eyes as he stands.

"The hardest parent, wears the least clothing. They are a paradox, the ninja. You have to know how to make them naked when they are safest."

He pulls mask back on, and picks up Sal Maroni's chart off the bed.

"Thanks for the tip, Sal."

He begins to walk out, before looking over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Sal?"

He smiles beneath the mask, his eyes wrinkling with the width of the expression.

"Ponder if I didn't kill you when I came in here, and you were just on too many drugs to know. This could be the afterlife. You know, Star Trek."

He whistles as he steps out of the room, swinging his arm with the chart.