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**Laughter**

By Lady Brick

A Batman Beyond Fanfic

**Part 1: Knock `Em Dead**
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"Did you see the expression on that guy's face when we popped him?  I 
thought I was gonna laugh myself to death!"

At first glance, the speaker would appear to be a common thug sitting in 
a shadowed alley with his three thug friends, boasting over their latest 
felony.  But on closer observation, the flicker of distant streetlights 
would reveal the garish face paint, like a hoard of grinning ghouls, 
that signified one of Gotham's most notorious gang, known both for their 
shockingly brutal crimes, and their very dark sense of humor.

The Jokerz.

The speaker cackled, nearly choking.  Anyone familiar with Gotham's 
illustrious past would instantly recognize him as the leader.  His 
visage, more then the others, bore an eerie resemblance to their 
namesake.

"Check out this swag."  The leader dumped the contents of the paper bag 
he was holding on to the ground.  Hundreds of plastic cards shimmered in 
the dim light.  One of the gang members whistled appreciatively.

"We can get some totally shway new hover bikes with that much plastic," 
he said in awe.

"Awww, you pwomised you'd buy me a pony if I was good."

The four Jokerz whipped their heads towards the mocking voice.  At the 
end of the alley, shrouded in shadows, stood a vaguely female shape.  
Her laughter tinkled lightly through the darkness.  A passing car's 
headlights revealed a flash of pink.

"Hey, girlie, I don't find you particularly amusing.  And around here, 
that can be mighty dangerous."  The grinning leader pulled out a 
switchblade to emphasize his threat.  "Maybe we should carve you a new 
smile."

The shadowed figure laughed.  "Me, not amusing?  Why, you cut me to the 
quick!"  Her voice abruptly grew harsh.  "You have a lot of nerve for 
someone who goes around dressed like they were traumatized by the clown 
at their fifth birthday party.  Underneath that cheap makeup, you're 
nothing more then common street trash.  You have no class, not style.  
And most of all . . ."  He could *hear* her smile.  ". . . YOU are not 
funny in the least."

The leader's eyes widened with shock.  With a choked howl of rage, he 
leapt at the girl, knife slashing.  She easily ducked his wild swipe, 
ramming him in the stomach with the heel of her hand.  He doubled over, 
his breath gone.  She grabbed him by his green hair, smashing her knee 
into his forehead.  Pivoting, not releasing her grip, she slammed him 
into the alley wall, face first.  The knife clattered to the ground, 
followed by the battered clown.  Blood poured from his nose.  His eyes 
flickered once, and he passed out.

The three other Jokerz were already on their feet, advancing towards the 
girl.  One chuckled as he swung a heavy chain.  "Girl, you've got to be 
crazy."

She flashed them a winning smile as she fell back into a defensive 
position.  "You know what they said all those years ago.  Girls just 
wanna have fun!"

__________


"Wayne, are you sure about this?  I haven't seen anyone yet."

The reply came through the speaker, crystal clear and just as sharp.  
"All the Jokerz' recent crimes have occurred in circular area around the 
South side.  They are holed up somewhere down there, and you will find 
them.  Have some patience."

Terry McGinnis, more commonly known to the populace of Gotham as the 
Batman, gave an affirmative sigh.  Gliding over the towering skyscrapers 
could make one feel quite powerful, confident.  Bruce Wayne seemed to be 
excellent at crushing that confidence.

"Hold on, I'm going in for a closer look."  Using his boot jets to give 
him an added push, Batman swooped lower, flying between the buildings, 
scouring alleyways, searching for the gang.  Just as he had been doing 
for the last two hours.

"I still don't . . . wait, hold on."  A flash of purple caught his eye 
two alleys away.  He dived, landing on the roof of a shabby apartment 
complex.  He crept to the edge, looking down.  He gawked at the sight 
below him.

"Find something?"  The curt voice brought him back to reality.

"You could say that," Batman said dryly.  "Looks like someone is an even 
better detective then you, Wayne."

"What are you talking about?"

"Take a look for yourself."

__________


Bruce leaned forward on the console of the computer, staring silently at 
the image on the huge screen before him.

Four members of the Jokerz gang, including the leader, hung battered and 
unconscious from a streetlight.  They were tied together with a huge 
pink and purple striped ribbon, tied in a jaunty bow.  Hanging from the 
bizarre package was a large white tag with something scrawled in red.  
As much as he squinted, Bruce couldn't make the writing out.

"Terry, what does that tag say?"

A pause.  Terry's voice came back through the speaker.  Bruce noticed 
that his tone was much more subdued then usual.

"Unworthy."

__________


"So what, is there some other guy out there who's crazy enough to want 
to play superhero too?"

Bruce ignored his comment for the moment, studying the results of the 
computer's test on the screen.  Terry had left the unconscious gang 
members in the alley with the police on their way, thanks to an 
'anonymous' phone tip to the Commissioner by Bruce.  Terry had brought 
the tag and ribbon back with him, for Bruce to examine.

"I don't think so," Bruce finally said, turning to his protégée.  "First 
of all, this doesn't seem an act of benevolence, not with that message.  
It seems more like someone had it in for the Jokerz, someone who plays 
pretty rough."

"And second?"

"I don't think it's a guy.  That message was written in lipstick."

Terry raised an eyebrow.  "So do we know who Miss `Doesn't Play Well 
With Others' is?"

Bruce frowned.  "Unfortunately, no.  There were no fingerprints or 
traceable DNA on the ribbon or card."

"So, it's a dead end for now."  Terry yawned and stretched.

"For now," Bruce said, furrowing his brow.  "But I have a feeling we'll 
hear from her again.  Someone who leaves this flamboyant of a message is 
not one to keep quiet."  He glanced towards the dusty trophies in 
another section of the cave, all that remained of so many of the 
psychopaths he had faced.  "Not at all."

__________


The apartment was spacious, decorated in bright shades of purple and 
magenta.  Many would call it gaudy, but its lone occupant seemed quite 
comfortable.

A space had been cleared in the middle of the floor for a large pink 
gymnastics mat.  Strains of classical music played as a girl in a purple 
leotard stepped onto the mat.  She was young, no more then nineteen, 
with deep blue eyes and chin-length wavy blond hair, currently tied back 
with a purple ribbon

Poised, she began her routine.  Her skill was that of an Olympic 
gymnast.  She flipped, twirled to the music, her mind full of the rhythm 
of the orchestra, and her own movement.

Finally the music ended.  She bowed to her imaginary audience, then 
flipped the sound system off.  Walking lightly, she entered a large 
study.

Here was a stark contrast to the almost painful order of the rest of the 
apartment.  It appeared as if several hundred old newspapers had 
simultaneously decided to explode.  Yellowed scraps lay everywhere.  She 
bent down, picking up a seemingly random stack of clippings, and sat 
down at her desk, flipping on her small computer.  Almost instantly, the 
program came up.  She scanned the list of names.  Catwoman . . . Mad 
Hatter . . . she opened the file named Riddler.

Selecting one of the clippings, she began to copy the details, typing at 
a rapid speed.  Her lips twisted into a smile, and she began humming.  
Fifty years ago, many people would have recognized it as the music of 
Cindy Lauper.

__________


Batman went on patrol earlier then usual the next night.  Wayne had 
wanted no opportunity left for the mysterious attacker to make a move 
against a possibly more innocent citizen.  From the hospital records he 
had accessed on the computer, the Jokerz had been beaten within an inch 
of their lives, and were still listed in critical condition.  If they 
were dealing with a truly ruthless psychopath, it was very possible that 
Batman would needed to protect her victim, criminal or not.

"The wicked aren't the only ones not getting any rest," Batman muttered 
as he piloted the Batmobile across Gotham's skyline.  "Job with Mr. 
Wayne or not, Mom's gonna kill me when she sees the grade on my last 
history test."

"Terry."  Bruce's voice crackled over the intercom.  "An alarm just went 
off on the roof of the Gotham Museum of History."

"On my way," Batman replied.  He made a sharp turn.  At his speed, he 
would be there in two minutes.

"It would have to be history," he muttered under his breath.  He 
adjusted the controls as he approached the roof, preparing to eject.  He 
could make out a figure below, exiting the door form the interior of the 
building.  He pulled a lever . . .

And dropped.

Twenty feet above the roof, Batman opened his airfoils.  They 
immediately began to slow his fall.  He landed on the roof lightly, 
silently.  The figure was closing the door behind them.  In a few steps, 
he was right behind them.  He grabbed their arm, spinning them around.

It was a woman.  No, more of a girl, not much older then him.  She wore 
a formfitting bodysuit of swirled pink and purple.  It extended to a 
half cowl that covered most of her face.  Sharp blue eyes stared at him 
calmly.  Blond hair spilled down to her chin, a bright green streak 
decorating the right side.  What appeared to be small purple cat ears 
perched on the top of her head.

With a start, Batman realized that her costume exactly matched that of 
the ribbon that had bound the Jokerz the night before.

"So," he said dryly, "you are the one who took out the Jokerz.  I 
suppose I should thank you for saving me the trouble.  Now, hand over 
whatever you're stealing.

"My, my!" the girl said, feigning horror.  "Your already giving orders, 
when we haven't been properly introduced?"

Batman frowned.  Bruce was right, she did appear to be a psychopath.  
"I'm Batman," he said impatiently.  "And you are . . .?"

She grinned.  "Cheshire," she said brightly.  She promptly kicked him in 
the head.

Batman stumbled back, more surprised then hurt by the blow.  He did 
however lose his grip on her wrist.  She threw a flurry of punches at 
him.  She was obviously well trained.  Batman managed to block them, but 
she caught him with a roundhouse kick that knocked him off his feet.  He 
rolled back to a standing position.  Having lost his patience, he threw 
himself at Cheshire, and managed to pin her against the door.  She 
struggled wildly, then suddenly gave up.

"Fine, damn it, you can have it back."  She leaned back against the 
door, closing her eyes.  "I didn't want it that much anyway.  It really 
doesn't go with my decor."

Batman released her arms, keeping a careful eye on her as she reached 
around, unzipping a small pack strapped to back.  From it, she withdrew 
a small golden statue of the Sphinx.  Batman recognized it from the 
traveling Egyptian exhibit that had just opened in the museum a few days 
ago.

She suddenly looked up at him with a wicked gleam in her eye.  Her face 
broke into a rather insane smile.  Before Batman could ask her what was 
so funny, she whisper "Go long!", and hurled the statue towards the edge 
of the roof.

Anyone else would probably have ended up diving off the roof, rescuing 
the statue, and losing Cheshire.  However, acting on instinct, Batman 
used the jets in his boots to hurtle into the air and grab the statue 
while it was still traveling upward in it's flight.  He looked down at 
Cheshire, feeling smug that he had outmaneuvered her.  She wouldn't 
escape now.

Instead, she was grinning even wider.

That was when the statue exploded.

__________


His head was ringing.  Part of it was from the explosion.  Part of it 
was probably when he had crashed into the roof, unconscious.  And part 
of it was Wayne yelling through the speaker.

Batman ignored him for the moment, staggering to his feet.  He glanced 
around for Cheshire, but she was gone, not unexpectedly.

She had stayed long enough to leave him a message.

It was scrawled on the roof door, in the same red lipstick as the night 
before.  It was a fairly long, making him wonder just how long he had 
been out.

	"In the morning I walk on four legs,
	 in the afternoon, two,
	 in the evening, three.
	 What am I?"

"You're a pain," Batman muttered, rubbing his sore head.  He realized 
that Wayne was still calling for him.  "Yeah, I'm here.  And yes, she 
got away."

"Come back to the cave immediately.  We need to talk."

"No kidding."  Batman signaled the Batmobile.  It appeared and lowered 
itself to the roof almost immediately.  He climbed into it shakily, 
giving the museum one last rueful glance.

"You know," he said to Wayne almost conversationally, "I really hate 
history."

There was no reply, but as he soared across the sky, he thought he heard 
Wayne chuckle.


**TO BE CONTINUED**


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Comments?  Contact me at lady_brick@yahoo.com

Visit my website, MindEclipse.com

Disclaimer:  Almost all characters belong to 
	Warner Bros. and DC Comics.  I own this 
	story and Cheshire.
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cters belong to 
	Warner Bros. and DC Comics.  I own this 
	story and Cheshire.