7198/The Third File: Betrayed By Power

The Third File: Betrayed By Power
Date of Scene:	10 April 2019
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Joker, Punisher

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Joker has posed:
Gotham City was a carefully coiled entity, but an organic one, made up of people but with a will, if not a mind, of its own. Whenever a new force arrived, a counterbalance came. Walls rose, people pushed, people rose, ceilings fell. People climbed, water rose.

The Batman erected a pillar of justice, Joker kept pushing, as an inexorable force pressing his hand into a burning parapet for pleasure.

Gangsters in Gotham City were tired of the Joker. Joker was the public face of the criminal element's opposition to Batman, but he brought the heat down in the form of federal agents, flying capes, and superpowered mutants. This wasn't anything new, but Joker had been positioned by a new force in town to kick him out.

This man was a new narcotics detective from Scotland, that was playing for MI-6, performing a test mission for the British government of manipulation of local insurgency elements with Gotham City's criminal element as his cadaver tray. He had no permission from the Gotham police, but the American government allowed this foray, out of sheer frustation at both Joker and Batman's criminal dance that claimed so many lives and swept up the public in the worship of a vigilante.

If there was one thing that could stop the Joker, it was a British spy.

And so here Joker was, running through the streets of Crime Alley, huffing with a six-shooter in his hand, dodging past cars and patrols of street thugs. The spy had gone undercover in the Mafia, a month earlier, without Joker's knowledge, posing as a syndicate leader, and had arranged for Joker's death for a great many criminals that had friends and family murdered by the Joker, on his various rampages, over the decades.

Joker's worst enemy was his own best asset, charismatic revenge.

Punisher has posed:
Moves and countermoves. It was a dance the Punisher knew well; he had to if he wanted to stay alive in the war. The Bat might have been hunting Punisher... but Punisher has never been much of a 'play by the rules' sort. The Bat likes to chase people out of Gotham?

Unfortunately for him, Punisher doesn't care what the Bat wants.

Microchip had been keeping an eye on matters in Gotham since the new player arrived. Even while Punisher was doing a stakeout of a warehouse in New York, the moves being made had Microchip watching. Now though... it couldn't wait any longer. Microchip had informed Frank things were about to heat up, and this was the best chance for him to find an interrogation subject... and maybe, possibly, take down the Joker himself.

Maybe.

It had brought Punisher and Microchip down to Gotham in the Battle Van ready for both recon and a firefight. Up above the Joker, a number of military grade recon drones were observing the whole event as Punisher drove parallel a block away, waiting for the perfect opportunity to ambush one of the thugs.

Joker has posed:
Joker dropped to a knee around the corner of a building, his gun down towards the ground as he loosened in his bulky purple suit. The tall, gaunt figure was in the dark, staring with a seriously perturbed grin, cheeks full of dimple, as he watched a pair of hoodlums in leather jackets with machine pistols stalk past his alleyway. They muttered to each other in street slang common among the gangs of Gotham, as Joker allowed himself to catch his breath.

Joker stepped out from the alley, facing the thugs backs with his gun ready, then spun around to step along a street. Jogging, now, he turned his head over his shoulder at oncoming lights of a black sedan with thugs, accelerating behind him to catch him. The bright glare lit up his suit and bright green hair, as shouts came out throughout the neighborhood, a hail of bullets fired at Joker from the passenger in the car, leaning out the side with a Russian assault rifle.

Joker dove to the side and rolled over a stone set of stairs, hiding behind them. Bullets bounced off the building around Joker's cover, breaking rock and brick and mortar, a window above Joker shattering. As the car cruised by, Joker rose for a single moment, firing a round with precision with his big gun.

There was a crack of the gun firing, and then the driver swerved off the road and to the left, hanging into the wheel as the windshield spider-webbed. There were shouts, all around the neighborhood, as the gunner in the car's fire grew erratic, his driver hit.

Joker rose again, smoking pistol in his hand, and continued jogging down the street, kicking the door in at a closed diner and stepping inside, the abandoned, dusty building dark inside and allowing Joker to hide while lights shone outside and voices howled for his blood.

Punisher has posed:
A confused crew of an attempted hit and run? A good an opportunity as any.

The Battle Van audibly swerved as Punisher brought it down the street and gunned the acceleration as he brought the side panel of the Van parallel to the crashed sedan.

Taking a Remington 870 from the back as Microchip switched out as driver wordlessly, Punisher opened the armored panel, putting a shell through the driver to be sure he was dead, then turned his attention on anyone else in the sedan. By the time he was finished firing, the only one alive was the thug with the assault rifle. He would make a decent interrogation subject... and the rifle would be a good addition to his collection. Both were grabbed and brought into the back of the Battle Van.

Anyone looking his way would easily see the infamous black trenchcoat and white skull vest of the Punisher.

Joker has posed:
Joker slinks into the diner's deeper portions, slipping into the old, mothballed kitchen and out the back, escaping the hitmen after him. He peers through the door, aware that something's wrong, because nobody is tracking him.

But Joker has better things to do. He wants to meet the man that has set up this confrontation. He looks down the alley, at the old Royal Theater, where the infamous Wayne Murders happened. Outside, Joker can see in the distance, are men with shotguns, standing guard.

Joker snickers, as he begins hop-shuffling towards the theater in the dark of the alley.

The thugs outside the diner turn as the van suddenly crashes into their drive-by crew. They begin firing at the battle van, with machine pistols, three-round bursts from the guns fired in loose bursts aimed at it. Sedans pull up from both sides of the street, blocking it off, bruisers with more Russian-build battle rifles stepping out of the cars and opening up on the van as a second phase of attack.

They all recognize the trenchcoat. But this crew is smart. They know that they have to take the Punisher down in numbers, or else they're meat. It looks like luck, that Punisher showed up while they were in numbers, with the illusion of high morale making them think they can win.

Punisher has posed:
Unfortunately for them, he was prepared for numbers. Punisher always comes to a mission prepared for all out war.

"Micro. Cover." The two word utterance has Microchip driving towards the blockade of least resistance, even as the Punisher takes out an M4A1/M203. His gear web already has all the magazines and grenades loaded for it, so no need to load up at least.

By the time the thugs are bringing out the battle rifles, Microchip is already driving away, heading for the closest sedan blockade, intending to plot right through it. The front end of the Battle Van is designed to easily break through civilians vehicles, so if there's been no modifications to it, the Battle Van will cut it in half like a hot knife through butter. It also helps that as he's leaving the scene, Punisher launches a high-explosive grenade directly into the blockade Microchip is gunning for. More than enough to turn the vehicles and the people into mulch.

With that distraction in place, Punisher is dashing for where the Joker went. He has his interrogation subject secured... now he needs to see what the Joker is up to.

Joker has posed:
There's shouts as the thugs shoot at the fleeing van, before the cars Microchip slams swing around onto their sides and subsequently explode at the grenade launched into them. Metal carcasses heave into the air and go flying, fireballs of metal shooting out trailed by smoke and cinder.

As Joker hears the explosion, he's given pause, looming through the shadows at the Royal Theater across the street from the alley.

The thugs outside the theater, of course, are paying more attention to the explosions, than the alley opening where Joker stands, turning about with their shotguns to face Punisher. They shout at each other and level their boomsticks at him, shoving each to the shoulder and firing, tight bursts of buckshot on semi-automatic feeds discharged with each pull of the trigger. They are conservative with their fire, working together instead of shooting in a mass.

Suddenly, one's head snaps to the side and explodes like vaseline putty blood as his skull is popped like a zit. They look to the side, seeing the Joker step out of the alley, burning hot pistol in hand.

Punisher has posed:
Years of trained reflexes are the only thing that keeps Punisher from being mulched by that shotgun fire as he ducks behind cover. A couple pellets graze his vest as he dives, causing a momentary grunt of pain before he gets behind a wall. It's not going to hold long against sustained shotgun fire, so he only has moments to act.

As Microchip flees in the Battle Van for the prearranged extraction point, Punisher grabs one of his flash grenades from his gear web. Using the memory of where the thugs were, he tosses the grenade off a surface opposite himself, angling it so it gets the thugs, and hopefully the Joker as well.

While he waits for the few seconds it'll take for that to detonate, Punisher is reloading the M203 with a concussion grenade.

Joker has posed:
As the flash grenade goes off, there are shouts of panic. The men with shotguns wheel about blindly, stumbling and growling, their eyelids squeezing shut and open rapidly. Joker, meanwhile, lets out an awkward laugh, as if he had just beat John Kerry for the New Hampshire primary.

That's when there's a low, sotto sound, of a wave device firing, from the Royal Theater's sign. A thrumming pulse is sent out, the men with shotguns dropping off their feet to the ground, as beta waves force them into dream-like paralysis, forcing them into a stupor at the strength of the signals. The Joker falls next, mumbling and muttering as he claws his way forward on his face with his left hand, but to no avail, particularly savage with his mania, but unable to resist with the power of the beta waves.

Punisher, too, would feel the effect.

Punisher has posed:
It was a simple hit and run. Was. The Punisher actually manages to resist the effects for a while, managing to work his way almost to the end of the alleyway even, before he, too succumbs. "Micro, get ou..." Punisher manages to croak out into his transceiver before he gets to his knees.

He crawls, even, for a few more seconds, before the effect is just too much, and he leans against a wall to try and keep out of sight.

Fat chance of that... but scum can be very inattentive.

Joker has posed:
When Joker and Punisher wake up, they're in the front seats of a movie theater, long abandoned. Their arms and legs are tied down to the arms and feet of the movie theater seats, and the theater is dark, besides a bright white screen ahead of them, casting an eerie glow.

"Greetings, fellows," comes a British accent, as a thin man in a black suit with a red silk scarf tucked beneath the collar walks before Joker and Punisher, his cane clicking on the ground. He wears a theater mask with a crying face, and is accompanied by a pair of thugs wearing black hoods, as if executioners.

"My name is Gentleman, I am tonight's host. Thank you for coming right to me, Joker, as you always do. And thank you, Punisher, for providing extra entertainment."

A slow, sick chuckle arises out of Joker, head hanging down, hair before his eyes, not speaking yet.

Punisher has posed:
When Punisher awakens, his eyes are wide open immediately. He's done interrogation training before... and has even been captured once or twice since his war started. So this is nothing new for him.

His muscle tense against the ropes as he tests for weaknesses. Then, he's looking around his surroundings, taking in the theater for a moment, before he looks to the three in front. "What, is this Gotham Nut twenty now? Does Batman collect you when no one is looking these days?" Punisher grouses out, before he coughs just a bit, clearing his throat violently.

"I wasn't lookin' to entertain you, asshole, but I'm happy to show you what entertains me, if you like." Punisher looks at the man if the red scarf, an intense, angry look. If he wasn't tied up, he'd be pretty intimidating right now.

Joker has posed:
"I know," comes the reply, Gentleman looking to his cohort and gesturing at someone in the dark. "Your intents mean nothing to me, Punisher. You are an exemplary soldier, which means that you are used, in a war, for a purpose. Since the deaths of your family, you have been an object moving, without a purpose. What is a soldier without a purpose?"

A thug carries over a plastic Poland Spring barrel of water, the gallons sloshing around inside as he supports it with his burly arms.

"We all must have a purpose, Punisher, or you're this sick, sick..." He looks at Joker, who looks back, grinning. "Thing, here."

"Don't let him get your panties in a bunch, Castle," Joker mutters loudly, his ruby red lips chapped and splitting apart. "Batman is scarier than this, and puts on a way better show."

Gentleman steps forward, pressing his cane to Joker's crotch, just above his male anatomy.

"Did I say I was here to scare you, Joker? I am here to reward you."

The Joker looks confused, as a thug moves forward, shoving the open end of the jug to Joker's mouth. It is tilted just far enough to drip on Joker's face and down his suit.

"Thirsty, clown?"

Punisher has posed:
"Oh, one of you people." Punisher sighs, resignedly, "If I had a dime for every 'everyone has a purpose' speech from a mob boss, I'd be as rich as that prick Stark." His hand covertly checks for the wrist-blade trigger... and finds it gone.

There goes that idea.

As The Joker starts to get the water jug to the mouth, Punisher looks to him. He's silent for now, reading his interrogator. This one doesn't seem to like aggression, but isn't easily flustered... so flailing about like he was new to this probably won't make him make a mistake.

Time to sit back and observe, get a read for the situation, and the interrogators buttons.

Joker has posed:
"At least you wouldn't be as poor as this prick Joker, now would you?" Gentleman asks, his mourning mask poised at Castiglione.

The water jug is tipped backwards and water begins to course through Joker's mouth and down his throat, going into his esphogus and closing his windpipe. He splutters and thrashes in a rage, his eyes opening wide as his head is forced backwards by the strength of the hooligan and the weight of the jug. He bucks in his seat, as the Gentleman places both hands on his cane before him.

"I suppose you haven't guessed what this is about, have you, Punisher," Gentleman says idly, as he watches the thugs torture Joker.

"I just enjoy doing this, preying on a poor weak animal like this clown here, that never had a dollar to his name and decided to tear a dollar in two instead of making one. Just so he'd have two nuts, instead of one bill."

Gentleman looks to Punisher, as Joker struggles to breath through his nose, the thugs gathering around him and holding Joker's head from behind to the seat.

"Tell me, Punisher. What have we learned about how easily a criminal populace can be turned against a charismatic but otherwise pointless fixture that prolongs an unstable region, locked in turmoil and under poor management?"

Punisher has posed:
Compliance? And a monologuer to boot. Maybe he can make this a reverse interrogation. "Knocking out the Kings and the Queens on the board only matters if there isn't someone to replace them, but some are better at it than others. You gotta find the right balance if you want to properly manage the scum." Punisher neutrally adds.

A bit of implied agreement, with a bit of implied disagreement. Time to see which bait gets the most attention.

Joker has posed:
"Russian intelligence?" comes a forced voice with an obvious furrowed brow behind the mask. "You see this as a Russian game, do you?"

Joker is shaking by now, veins bulging in his eyes, as the hooligans relent, strangely without Gentleman's orders, letting him splutter and cough, his head waving back and forth.

"This man right here, is a refugee leader. He just has pure boredom and rage, doesn't he? Everybody listens to him because he is the most clever, which means he is the most predictable. Clever men are always predictable, they cheat at life. A system only has so many cheats, the more complex the system the fewer ways to cheat."

Joker hunches forward, retching, barely able to listen as he sneers and grumbles threats.

"So we take this man, who fancies himself a leader among men, and we make those that are his victims by way of his idleness, royals, in their own mind. Is not a petty man always a king if you give him a day's worth of power?"

Gentleman smiles. "Why knock kings off the board, Punisher, we you can create them?"

Gentleman turns his back. "Batman, is the opposing force. But Batman, takes time to remove. So we take over this man's minions, whom he honestly cares about..."

A hooligan slams Joker across the back of the head with a fist, causing a whimpering snicker.

"And we send them at Batman, in public. Over and over again. They are emboldened as many kings, with their one true messiah slain at their hand for our answer."

Gentleman swings around, planting his cane beneath Punisher's throat gently, on his Adam's Apple, just beneath the chin.

"Tell me, Russian spy, which service am I mimicking?"

Punisher has posed:
The educational sort. Oh, this is going to be easy.

"Why would you want to create them?" Punishers hands flex as he tries to keep his circulation going, "looking to create anarchy, or just control the whole thing yourself?" So far he's been answering questions. Time to see if he can press his luck.

Joker has posed:
"To get rid of Batman."

Joker speaks up again. "Nobody gets rid of Batman but of me, nobody."

The Gentleman removes his cane from beneath Punisher's throat, chuckles coming from the thugs around Joker.

"What if you get rid of Batman, by us killing you, clown?" the Gentleman asks curiously, an honest British professor's question to a stubborn student. "Have we solved both your problems?"

Joker cracks up, throwing his head back.

"Oh God, you are too much, you limey dick. A bird shits in Central Park and this guy ends up in a chair next to me. That pigeon must be Moses. Give up, Gentleman. Rules are simple, narrow, and direct. There's no logic like you use, anywhere."

Gentleman leans in, grabbing Joker by the scruff of his jacket.

"That's because your logic is fake, Joker. Fake, rotten, conceding. An appeaser responds to your logic with an argument. Everyone gives you an audience your entire life. You invent tools to make your willie big, don't you, Joker? Soon everyone is looking at your willie, and all those eyes make it bigger, don't they?"

Joker's mouth sours, as he squints his eyes and frowns, silently.

"I'll tell you what I see. I see a comedian who can't be a Jew because Lenny Bruce is dead."

Punisher has posed:
Watching the two with a decidedly neutral expression, Punisher was very much studying those around him. Body language, training, tells for potential weakpoints. Joker being tortured was less of an interest than the information 'Gentleman' was giving up.

"Plenty of people want to get rid of the Bat. Why do you care if he stays or goes?" Punisher sounds genuinely perplexed; which, to be fair, he is. Syndicate leaders usually only care about profit and fear. This... this is something else.

"He piss in your cheerios or something?" Punisher prods.

Joker has posed:
"A breakfast of champions," the British man in the suit opines to Punisher. "Batman is the least of my concerns, Punisher. My dance card has just about completed its final rotation, and here I am, with my partner, about to meet me for the night in my beloved Egyptian bondage, as Kipling would write."

Joker snarls, bucking off the chair, before the thug behind him grabs him from behind and pulls him back, arm around his neck, forcing Joker to gag and fluster, cheeks puffing up as his eyes bulge from quiet rage.

"I sense you have a single tactical flaw, Punisher, that makes you so driven, but is also the way anyone could destroy you. You commit to a pattern, and you cannot remove your logic from this pattern, until your mission is complete. What were you, a SEAL? Deep insertions, eh?"

The Gentleman motions at Punisher to a minion, and the minion dutifully goes about cutting Punisher's arms and legs free.

As this happens, Gentleman says, "I think you are more valuable to me alive, now, Punisher. I know how you operate. Where were you deployed, Punisher? Playing Russian chess from a non-deviating strategy as a deep insertion naval equivalent?"

Gentleman watches Punisher, closely, as he is finally freed, not doing anything threatening or defensive, merely his hands on his cane, watching from behind the theatrical tragedy mask.

Punisher has posed:
"If that's what you think, asshole, you don't know the first thing about me." Punisher grates out as his bonds are cut. Slowly, he stands. There are no aggressive movements yet. "What it to you where I was deployed?" Punisher asks, watching the Joker thrash about briefly.

Joker has posed:
The Gentleman observes the mimicry of strategy. The chess begins. He has declared a strategy, now Punisher declares a strategy. So far, they are equal. The Gentleman's plan is to observe Punisher's final move, then give him an advantage, before playing reactively, without any final strategy in mind, to create a force imbalance.

Countering a chess strategy requires a contrary strategy, each designed to counter another. With a pattern locked soldier, who always plans until the end with an exceptional amount of branching decisions, reaction is one's only tool, after the strategy has been blown with a planned challenge. The contingencies go away, and the playing field is level.

"Because you are a naval insertion soldier that faces an articulate enemy. That is no conflict I have heard of."

Continue to play the interrogation game. Do not yield there. That is the Punisher's goal.

And then, the slow turn away, with the cane, to offer the left side, the weak side, the cane leaning to the right with his palm sliding beneath the head of the stick, slowly gripping it as his left hand slides just beneath, in the dark of the theater. A quiet turn of the head.

Yielding, to give a branching path. Either Punisher yields and continues to probe for information, which is being made available, and is being counter-probed in turn, or Punisher takes the advantage offered, the final move of escape.

Punisher has posed:
"War is just an extension of diplomacy according to some." Punisher replies. His tone makes it clear he's less than convinced of that logic, and as he speaks it, he starts to walk over to Joker, moving behind him, then around to the side. Studying him briefly, before he looks to the Gentleman, "You're pretty sure of yourself." His eyes flicker over the chamber, especially to the shadows.

"Seems like you're planning to stick around." Punisher counters.

Joker has posed:
The thug behind Joker releases him, Joker hunching forward and heaving inwards.

"Talking points, Castle?" Joker asks with a low, empty chuckle, his hair sweaty and mopped over his brow. "This is all a little game to him, hunting me like an animal and talking like a man of state. He's some peanut vendor, chucking bags of steaming shit at your head, hoping to make some money for Easter Seals."

The Gentleman looks to Joker slowly, studying him. With a sashay stroll, turning back forward now that Punisher has refused the advantage, in favor of a holding action to bore Gentleman into an error, he moves to Joker.

"Joker, you always seem to know more than you say, yet you always say things contrary to knowing the first fact of all," Gentleman says to Joker, as the clown looks up, grinning wearily.

"What's that, dick?" Joker asks breathlessly."

Gentleman leans down, mask into Joker's face, as Joker's leg slowly stretches out of the stretched, broken rope, extending his heel across the ground with the toe up.

"That knowing something means you don't act ignorant."

There's a thrust, and Joker slams his freed leg into Gentleman's heel, before wrenching his arm out of the bonds as Gentleman falls into his lap, shouting a positively British incoherence as Joker grabs him and twists around to shove Gentleman against his trapped side, the thugs rushing in and around the pair as they struggle.

Punisher has posed:
When the Joker goes for the Gentleman, the thugs have his attention briefly... but the positioning means the cane is vulnerable. He saw that brief glimmer of metal underneath; that means there's a knife or some kind.

The Punisher is something of an expert with knives, making it the perfect weapon for this encounter.

With a roar, Punisher kicks out for the cane to knock it free of the Gentlemans grasp... then makes a mad dash for it, his right hand going for the top portion of it to get the knife out of the sheathe.

The Joker is left to fend for himself. Who knows, Punisher might be considering trying to kill them both.

Joker has posed:
The Joker pulls away from the chair as Gentleman goes after his cane, the knife stripped out of the long black pole.

"Git!" the Gentleman shouts, pulling up his cane and swinging it at Punisher's head with a curling hook, the blunt of the cane coming around with a tight arch and an extension of his arm at a perpendicular angle.

The Joker meanwhile laughs and swings a fist at one of the thugs that comes at him, slamming the man directly in the nose with a rabbit punch. Joker follows with a jaunty pull of his right arm back and a left kick forward, kicking the man in the crotch and keeping him over, before Joker clicks around for a kick to the head.

"See you in the funnies, Punisher!" comes Joker's howl as he goes running out of the theater, his shoes slapping across the ground with neat clicks, venturing off into the darkness of the theater.

Punisher has posed:
"Fuckin' clown." Punisher states under his breath with all the inner focused rage he's feeling right now. He looked to be about to say something when the cane cracks across his skull, sending him unbalanced briefly, before he steadies himself a bit far away from the Gentleman, and brings up the knife in a offensive looking stance, knife sticking out of his hand to the side opposite his thumb; it's a stabbing motion, not slashing, the stance meant for brutal direct blows.

"You want me, or do you want the clown?" There's a predators gaze on anyone narrowing on anyone coming close to him. If he had even a pistol, everyone in this room would be dead already... but the Punisher was also a fairly accomplished martial artist... and was especially deadly with a knife. "Come and get it."

Joker has posed:
"As loose ends go, I'd say you've woven me a proper coat, Punisher," Gentleman responds, relenting with his cane. He looks between his remaining thugs, including the one on the ground that his minions are helping to his feet.

"I think I'll be adjourning to quieter chambers. If you see this mask again, be sure that it is at a fine theater."

The Gentleman and his assistance turn about and walk towards the back of the theater, behind the screen, and it goes black. The entire theater cloaked in eerie darkness, Punisher is left alone with an abandoned theater and an empty jug of water, the liquid splashed everywhere around Joker's former seat.

Joker lurches out of the theater and into the alley where the Waynes were murdered, his gut full of spring water, far too much, and his lungs reeling. He caterwauls over to a wall, leaning against it, as he snickers, shaking his head.

"Some days, I really can't tell just how good I have it."

Punisher has posed:
My Kingdom for a flashlight.

When the others leave the theater, so does Punisher, albeit in a different route. He's already glancing towards a clock to see how much time elapsed as he heads for the Battle Vans backup rally point.

No sense in going back there without getting reserve gear from the Van armory.... and discuss what just happened with Microchip.