"Nine-four-zero! I repeat, nine-four zero! Officers in need of assistance!"

The crackle of the damaged communications frequency filled Detective Samuel Bradley with a combination of determination and dread. The latter of which seemed to overtake him as he heard the vicious, child-like cackling from outside his partner's overturned squad-car. Bradley looked to his left to see the driver, Lieutenant Murakami, hanging upside down from his seat and bleeding from the temple. He was only unconscious, mercifully, but in desperate need of medical attention. Bradley unhooked his seat belt and positioned himself to fall on his back to lessen the impact, but he could feel a considerable pain in his right shoulder. A fracture, maybe, but nothing broken... yet.

"Screw it,", Sam whispered to himself, unhooking his fellow officer. "I don't know if you can hear me, Lieutenant, but try and remain still. We're in a bad spot, and we're not out of the fire yet."

The middle aged, graying Detective sneered as he heard the distinct sound of motorcycle engines racing past, circling their position. The cackling grew into high-pitched fits of laughter echoing out from the throats of a group obviously much younger than either of the two seasoned GCPD officers. Drawing his side-arm with the shoulder that hadn't taken the brunt of the car's crash, Bradley pulled his partner towards the middle of the car's hood to draw him out of the line of fire, on the off chance they were packing heat, and began kicking at his own door to loosen it.

"This isn't my first rodeo.", Bradley assured him. "And definitely not my first clowns."

As the door eventually creaked open, revealing itself to have unlatched during the crash. Bradley tried to think of the events that transpired just moments before, in a vain hope to ascertain a motive behind their attack. They were on Park Row Avenue, investigating the lead in a triple homicide. The suspect had left behind traces of his hair fibers in the midst of a victim's struggle. A man in his early 30's with a laundry list of priors, and if he wasn't the suspect, he sure as hell knew who was. As Bradley's partner turned onto 9th street, Sam had heard a faint noise - like a line being snapped, or more likely, a tripwire - before the side of their car was engulfed in a loud explosion and sent airbourne.

This wasn't the work of their perp, obviously. This was a trap set up for a distinct reason: random violence, seeing who would trip the explosives first. It was the M.O. of a group of known terrorists that Bradley had come across before, but never so directly. And as he slowly began to crawl his way out of the car, he was beginning to catch glimpses of their faces. Their smiling, greasepaint smeared faces that looked upon the scene with hungry eyes. A group of late teens to twenty-somethings who had taken up the torch of a madman from Gotham's past. Bradley could hardly hide his disgust as one of them sliced the blade of a machete into the pavement, creating sparks.

Jokerz.

"Well, well, well!", one of them jovially announced. "Looks like we caught ourselves a couple of piggies, kids! Two little piggies, escaped from the farm!"

The others laughed and began to mimick an "oink" sound as Bradley made himself visible, his side-arm's safety visibly turned off. The group of clowns, each done up in elaborate and particularly gruesome fashion, each flashed an even wider grin, evidently seeing the Detective as fresh meat ready for tenderizing.

"What do you say, dregs, should we cut him up? I say we cut him up!", a female member of the gang cooed. "I'm in the mood for some bacon. Maybe some sausages. Oooh, the possibilities!"

Bradley raised his gun, hiding any visible fear even as the group's cycles simultaneously began to slow to a stop. One of them was wielding a pair of large chains, swinging it above his head. Another, the machete clown, was outfitted to the teeth - quite literally, as he bit down on the blade of a knife fixed between his jaw - with all manner of sharp objects affixed to his spiked jacket. The woman held a spiked mallet, fashioned together from crude scraps of metal, displaying her vivid pink and blue shirt that read "Daddy's Little Monster". And flanking the other side of the Detective were a pair of wirey twins, their makeup fashioned off of the Chinese yin and yang symbols while combined with stark green tipped hair and crimson coated smiles.

"Stop where you are, freaks.", Bradley coldly commanded. "You've had your fun. Turn back now and I won't have to use this."

The chain-wielding clown chuckled, stepping off of his bike and revealing a large stature.

"On the contrary, old man. We insist."

Swinging his chains high into the air, the clown slammed the cold metal into Bradley's gut before he could pull the trigger, knocking him down and causing him to drop the fire-arm. The twins stepped infront of it, unsheathing a pair of katanas that had been retroactively graffitied with HA-HA symbols and what looked to be dried blood. Remaining on the ground, the Detective refused to give them the benefit of seeing him so much as worry. His concerns were more directed for his partner, who he could hear groaning inside the car.

"Whoopsie! Looks like the piggy lost his toy.", Machete Clown replied. "You gonna squeal for us to get it back? Huh? Are ya?"

The group erupted in laughter as Chain Clown grabbed Bradley by the lapel of his overcoat.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find ways to make him squeal. But I want to do it slowly. Make him work for it. Shed a little of the good stuff."

The degenerate licked his lips as Machete Clown brought out an excessively large, freshly sharpened bowie knife to go with his other weapon. Bradley held his breath for a moment, seemingly trying to keep himself calm. It was only a few seconds later when this proved to be a ruse, as the Detective spat directly in the face of Chain Clown.

"Go to hell."

Machete Clown squealed in delight as Chain Clown angrily threw the Detective to him, like a game of hot potato.

"HA! Nicely done, oh, nicely done! Looks like you've got some fight in you, piggy."

Holding the bowie knife to Bradley's face, the clown's rank breath was the first thing to genuinely elicit a reaction from the Detective. Machete Clown's yellowed teeth were directly in Bradley's line of sight as he tightened his grip on the handle.

"Makes you all the more ripe for roasting."

Raising his bowie knife in the air, Machete Clown got the Detective to close his eyes, resigning himself to whatever horrible fate that the gang was waiting to give him. But as he began to fear the worst, the entire group - including Bradley - heard a distant whizzing noise. The noise grew louder as the seconds went by, before a small shadow could be seen launching directly for Machete Clown's knife. With a loud clang, the objects smashed together, creating a large enough spark to send Machete Clown stumbling backwards in surprise.

The bowie knife dropped, embedded into the pavement by something made of a much stronger metal. A red and black circular object, bladed and sporting an all-too-familiar symbol. Bradley barely got a glimpse of it before realizing just what was happening: they were getting their back-up afterall. But it wasn't GCPD.

"Oh, shit! We got..."

"Company? I'll say."

A much larger shadow descended upon them, gliding into view at a speed that none of them could comprehend. Before anyone could make sense of what was happening, the shadow slammed directly into Machete Clown and knocked him back with a force that sent him flying into a nearby shop window. The figure landed, firmly placing himself between the Detective and The Jokerz without a moment's hesitation.

"You dregs really know how to spoil someone's night, you know that?"

The tone was harsh, laced with a combination of sarcasm and malice. The Jokerz each took a step back with widened eyes as the horns of the cowl became visible, aswell as the neon red glow of the symbol adored across the figure's chest. Detective Bradley could only see him from behind, but the silhouette was very - if not painfully - familiar. It was one of the only remaining figures in Gotham that still caused creeps like The Jokerz to hesitate for even a moment.

"Slag this! I wanted a piggy! I didn't sign up to tangle with no freakin' Bat!"

The Batman smirked as another batarang appeared from his outstretched gauntlet. Most of The Jokerz looked at eachother, quizzically, to see if they were willing to take on the obviously more experienced hero. But the twins seemed unfazed, stepping forward with their katanas raised in unison. Batman narrowed his eyes, waiting for them to make the first move.

"Get out of here before you get yourself hurt."

Bradley didn't know if it was a command meant for him or The Jokerz, but he didn't want to wait around and find out. Rushing himself back to the car, the Detective rolled under the opened passenger door, choosing to let what was about to play out begin to play out for itself. Just as he slipped away from view, he could see The Twin Clowns rushing Batman on the attack.

The vigilante tossed the batarang high into the air, raising up his gauntlet to clash with the first katana that sliced towards him. The second swung on approach, but Batman managed to duck, landing a brutal uppercut that sent the second Twin into the air and colliding with his own bike. The Jokerz fixated their gaze on the scene as the first Twin suffered a series of roundhouse kicks that caused his katana arm to raise above his head, setting it up for the batarang that had been tossed as it circled back around, embedding it into the clown's wrist.

With a spinning kick, Batman nailed Twin Clown directly across the face and sent him spiraling to the ground, opening himself up to attack from the other Jokerz. Which they quickly decided they were going to attempt, despite the odds. Chain Clown was the first to attack, having pulled himself from the broken glass of the shop window with a thirst for revenge. Throwing his chain directly towards Batman, he was surprised to see The Dark Knight deliberately allow his arm to be ensnared by the weapon. What was even more surprising was that no sooner than when Batman took a step forward, he was airborne, propelled by rockets beneath his boots. The chain connected to Batman's forearm snapped taut and clotheslined Chain Clown hard in the throat, causing him to drop immediately.

Batman landed ontop of him, sending a direct stomp onto his skull to keep him momentarily incapacitated. Machete Clown and Mallet Clown looked at eachother in fright as The Dark Knight faintly smiled back at them, sardonically using a come hither motion.

"You know, I have a history with dispatching clowns. You might even call it a hobby."

Machete Clown rushed forward, slicing at Batman like a wild animal. The vigilante sidestepped and leaped over each attack, somersaulting over Machete Clown and grabbing him by the shoulders, flipping him onto his back. Landing directly infront of Mallet Clown, who made no attempt to flee, Batman caught the spiked mallet with his palm, displaying the strength of the servos wired into his suit.

"So why the hell that you twips would ever, and I mean ever want to get into this line of work is beyond me."

Ripping the mallet from the clown's grasp, Batman tossed it and caught an attempted punch, spinning the woman around and forcing her into an armlock.

"It's like almost like you want this."

"Funny. We could almost say the same about you."

Before The Dark Knight could react, one of the Twin Clowns smacked him on the spine with an electric buzzer, sending hundreds if not thousands of volts of electricity coursing through Batman's system. Calling out in pain, Batman dropped to one knee and was forced to let the Mallet Clown go, who promptly ran for her tossed weapon. Picking himself up, slightly dazed, Batman found himself taking a katana hit across the chest, severing part of the Batsuit's outer layer to reveal a glimpse of circuitry beneath.

"I mean, you think you're what, a savior? A protector of these lousy sacks of meat?"

Going in for another slice, Twin Clown watched as Batman wasted no time in meeting his attack with a direct right hook. Then a left, then another right, before leaping into the air and drop kicking him far enough away to cause some considerable damage. Batman sneered, running his hand along the damage to his suit.

"Something like that."

As Mallet Clown approached from behind, quietly raising her weapon high into the air, Batman, without even looking, reached back and shot a minature taser directly into the woman's chest, causing her to spasm before dropping to the pavement aswell, with steam rising off the mallet.

Machete Clown and Chain Clown were down for the count, as were the first Twin and Mallet Clown. All that remained was the slightly out-of-it second Twin, whom Batman spotted trying to lurch towards his bike. Outstretching his arms, allowing crimson bat-like wings to unfold and fall to his sides, Batman rocketed into the air and slammed both knees into the clown's back, causing him to fly into a nearby garbage bin.

Detective Bradley kicked the passenger door back open, his partner slung over his shoulder, and watched as Batman landed amongst a slew of unconscious bodies. Reaching into the unconscious Lieutenant's holster, Bradley drew his weapon and aimed it directly at the viglante.

"GCPD! Freeze!"

Batman turned, slightly surprised as Bradley sternly eyed him.

"You're wanted for questioning, Bat. Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head."

Motioning to the unconscious clowns, Batman seemed more annoyed at the threat than anything.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm playing games?!", Bradley countered. "Wearing that mask and beating the hell out of perps doesn't make you any less of a criminal than they are!"

Batman sneered. "Right."

Before Bradley could fire a warning shot, Batman outstretched his wings once again and launched himself back into the Gotham night air. Just before he disappeared out of view, Bradley could hear the vigilante call to him from the skies with one last retort.

"You're welcome, by the way."

Frustrated, the Detective lowered his weapon, knowing that it wouldn't do any good to try and open fire. The kid was already gone, anyway. Placing the gun back into his own holster as he gently lowered his partner onto the street, Bradley's eyes remained fixated on the sky. The Batman had entirely vanished from view. He could hear sirens in the distance, signaling that back-up had finally arrived - about ten minutes late, all things considered.

The Detective sighed to himself.

Unfortunately for him, it was beginning to feel like old times.

"The more things change..."