"That's your plan?" Harley asked as they turned a corner and pulled into the lot of Joker's headquarters and parked the van.

"I've been preparing since the attack on the Iceberg Lounge. Do you think it will work?" Scott questioned in return.

"It might work on some of them, but not all," Harley cautioned.

"The good people in the organization won't question it," Scott explained. "If any of the bad ones say something, I'll shoot them, and it'll keep the rest in line."

"I think you're right," Harley said. "It is crazy."

"There's no denying that," Scott admitted. "It's the only plan I've been able to come up with."

"Have you given any thought as to how we're going to deal with the Justice League?" Harley questioned. "Once they finish up with Joker's distractions, they will crack down on us here. I'm actually surprised it's taken them this long."

"I don't think I'll have to come up with a plan on that front," Scott replied. "Joker seems confident in his abilities to deal with them when the time comes, so I expect he already has a plan. I just need him to fill me in on the details."

Harley and Scott exited the van and started walking toward the front door. They only got half way across the lot before one of the Joker's goons intercepted them.

"Where have you been?" demanded the clown. He didn't wait for an answer. "Joker wants to see you both, now!"

Scott tried to keep calm as he entered the building and moved toward Joker's office. Harley followed silently at his heels. This was the moment he'd been dreading. If his plans had been discovered, Scott wouldn't leave the office alive.

The moment Scott opened the door, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Holding the weapon with unwavering aim was Joker.

"Something wrong, Boss?" Scott asked with as much calm as he could force into his voice.

"You set fires all over Gotham," Joker growled. He moved the gun from simply pointing at Scott to resting against Scott's forehead. His voice changed to a shrill scream. "I wanted a heap of blood bodies not a pile of charcoal! Give me one reason I shouldn't fire you and toss you onto the BBQ?"

"You wanted the city in a panic," Scott quickly explained. "Just shooting people wouldn't be enough because it happens all the time in Gotham. Most people are glad it didn't happen to them and move on. The numbers of dead might cause shock, but it wouldn't drive them to panic."

"And your fires will?" Joker sneered.

"Yes," Scott confirmed. "Shootings are common but limited in their scope. Fires are not an everyday occurrence in Gotham, and they spread in all directions, threatening everyone in the city. If something were to happen to the firetrucks, perhaps a little sabotage, how would the citizens react knowing the next fire won't be put out?"

Joker clicked the hammer of the gun back into place before lowering the weapon to point at the floor.

"Why not kill the firefighters?" Joker asked. "Why go after their trucks?"

"It would be a simple thing to parachute in replacement firefighters from other cities if the government called for them," Scott pointed out. "It would be much harder to rapidly deploy new trucks. By the time they drove here, half the city would've burned to the ground."

Scott desperately hoped Joker would accept his reasoning and decide against killing anyone else, but the maniac was capable of anything.

"With the fire stations out of action, every time someone lights a match, the whole city will be in a panic," Joker realized out loud before collapsing in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Scott exhaled slowly and realized he'd been unknowingly holding his breath.

"Take care of those trucks, will you?" Joker requested between gasps for air.

"Sure thing, Boss," Scott promised.

"Hurry back when you're done," Joker ordered, becoming serious for a moment. "Our smoke signals are going to draw attention, and I'm expecting the Justice League to arrive sometime very soon."

Scott turned to leave but was thrown sideways as the floor underneath him shifted unexpectedly. A horrible cracking sound filled the air around him, and for a brief second or two, Scott thought a bomb had gone off and the building was in the initial stages of collapse. The reality of the situation became apparent when he looked back toward the office and saw daylight coming through where there had once been a ceiling.

The roof lifted away before being tossed aside into the parking lot where it crushed every vehicle flat. Hovering in the sky above the office was a muscular figure in blue with a bright red cape fluttering behind him in the wind. The prominent S centered on his chest was only partially visible in the cloud obscured light, but Scott had seen enough news coverage to know Superman when he saw him.

"Thanks for the skylight," Joker chuckled. "But, did you have to destroy all my cars? Don't you know how much those things cost? What am I saying? I didn't buy any of them. Never-mind!"

"You've been allowed to roam free and cause havoc too long, Joker," Superman said grimly. His arms were folded across his wide chest, and he'd made no move from where he hovered.

"I suppose you've got me," Joker lamented, drooping his shoulders in exaggerated defeat. He suddenly straightened up. "Hang on a minute. I suppose you have a warrant for my arrest? How about probable cause?"

"You're responsible for the attacks on Gotham," Superman declared.

"Slander!" shouted the Joker, waving a fist at Superman. "I was here all night. Never left, so how could I have done this?"

"Your people set the fires," Superman accused.

"Gasp," Joker said mockingly, covering his open mouth with one hand. "My people?"

Joker spun around to face the goons in the office. "Alright, which one of you has been playing with matches?"

No one moved, but a few of them snickered.

"Doesn't seem like we did it," Joker told Superman, turning back to leer at the Man of Steel. "Maybe you should try the criminals in the next town over."

Superman descended into the office but remained a few inches off the floor.

"You're not going to get away with this," Superman warned.

"Of course I am," Joker denied. "Batman said the same thing, and look what happened to him. Speaking of the old boy, he kept something in storage I think you might want to know about. Here, have a peak!"

Joker pulled a small box the size of a golf ball from his pocket and flipped back the lid with his thumb. Otherworldly green light filled the room, and Superman held up both hands in an attempt to ward off the effects of the glowing crystal housed inside the box Joker held.

"Bats didn't trust anyone," Joker went on calmly. "Not you, not me, no one. He collected all the kryptonite he could get because he thought the safest hands for keeping the stuff were his, but everything he had is now mine. Mine! MINE!"

Superman, greatly weakened by the kryptonite, surge upward shakily, taking to the skies in an attempt to get out of range.

"Come back when you can stay longer," Joker laughed. "I've got Batman's supply of green in shielded locations all over Gotham. It is, after all, my color. Tell the rest of your cape-wearing idiots to stay out of Gotham, or I'll use Batman's contingency plans on all of them. This is my clubhouse, and you don't know the secret handshake."

Joker's goons aimed their weapons at Superman, and Scott didn't know if the kryptonite had weakened the hero enough to make the guns effective. Apparently, Superman didn't know either and didn't want to risk it. In a blur of motion too fast to follow with the eye, Superman flew away. Joker laughed uncontrollably.

When the Clown Prince of Crime finally stopped laughing in order to catch his breath, he focused his attention on the goons standing around him in the ruins of his office.

"Looks like we'll have to find someplace else as this is a might drafty," Joker told them with a grin. "Let's find someplace special, someplace befitting King Joker."

Scott watched it all with a growing sense of dread.