(no subject)
"I feel like there should be a little X-Files ticker along the bottom of the lawn here. Let everyone know when and where the next loser to do fits in the scheme of things..."
Joker pokes his head up from the sewer, patting the sling-bag hanging from his shoulder.
"Must be careful. Old dynamite and all. Wouldn't want to leave a trail of Joker-bits across the lawn. Although it'd be worth it just to see a Polaroid of Batty's face.
Joker begins to slink across the lawn, muttering to himself in the moonlight. He darts from behind a bush, holding a twig in front of his face, running on the tips of his toes. The security lights engage when he's crossed half the lawn, Joker freezing in his tracks, sighing exasperatedly.
"Security lights. Sometimes, I loathe modern technology."
Joker shoots a glare at the building, still ten feet away. He fishes in the pocket of the purple bag, and extracts a small windup toy with a stick of dynamite attatched to the back, setting it on the grass. He winds the key with economical, hurried twists of his hand, and touches the fuse with the heated tip of his cigar.
"Just have to leave it up to the whims of fate. Besides...I owe you one, Langstrom, for pitching in when I thought I had that pain in the brain."
Joker gives a finger-wave to the darkened window, and hits the bricks, jogging lightly. The explosion behind him makes him giggle madly as he rounds the corner, heading off into the night.
Joker pokes his head up from the sewer, patting the sling-bag hanging from his shoulder.
"Must be careful. Old dynamite and all. Wouldn't want to leave a trail of Joker-bits across the lawn. Although it'd be worth it just to see a Polaroid of Batty's face.
Joker begins to slink across the lawn, muttering to himself in the moonlight. He darts from behind a bush, holding a twig in front of his face, running on the tips of his toes. The security lights engage when he's crossed half the lawn, Joker freezing in his tracks, sighing exasperatedly.
"Security lights. Sometimes, I loathe modern technology."
Joker shoots a glare at the building, still ten feet away. He fishes in the pocket of the purple bag, and extracts a small windup toy with a stick of dynamite attatched to the back, setting it on the grass. He winds the key with economical, hurried twists of his hand, and touches the fuse with the heated tip of his cigar.
"Just have to leave it up to the whims of fate. Besides...I owe you one, Langstrom, for pitching in when I thought I had that pain in the brain."
Joker gives a finger-wave to the darkened window, and hits the bricks, jogging lightly. The explosion behind him makes him giggle madly as he rounds the corner, heading off into the night.