The Avengers and the Reaper

Chapter 8: My game... and a small prank

Hey y'all, sorry for the long wait. This chapter took me a whole to write and now I have to try and go from DC to Marvel... wish me luck! Disclaimer:  Alas, I do not own any Marvel or DC characters. Never have, never will. Enjoy reading, please comment, and eat your vegetables!
💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

After that, the Joker didn't put up any argument. Of course, it's not every day someone threatens you with common sense. It's only one of the tricks we use to get our way in situations like this.

We came to agree that Joker would stop all the mindless killing and inform his henchmen about it as well. That doesn't mean no organized killing because without that, life would be so boring. Towards the end of the meeting, Joker lets out a question he had obviously been dying to ask.

"Why not just kill me now?"

I raise an eyebrow. I'd been wondering when he would finally ask.

Grim snorts. "While I'm sure we'd  would enjoy the challenge, it goes against all we've been trying to achieve."

"If we killed you now what would happen in Gotham is a mad rush to fill the empty spot at the top of the food chain. 'Upstanding citizens' like Cobblepot, Dent, and Dixon, or as you know them, Penguin, Two-face, and Bane would wage war to be top dog. Better we manage the current big man than have to deal with those fighting to be one." I explain.

Joker nods. Awwwww, he looks sane! Adorable!

Grim stretches like a lazy cat and says, " I think that's all for this meeting. I am going to gorge myself on shwarma. Reap?"

I shoot an intense look at Joker. "Go and I'll meet you later."

Grim shrugs, looks through the hole in the wall to the ground far below, and look back at me, his face pleading.

I roll my eyes and sigh defeatedly.
He jumps and I wait a few moments until he starts screaming . Then I wait a few more moments. Finally, I extend my arm and let purple ribbons of energy go down and stop my partner's fall.

I quickly turn back to Joker. "What do you know of Ra's al Gul?"

Startled, which is an emotion I'm sure he's never felt before, Joker says, "Not as much as I'd like. Why?"

I snort in disbelief. "I'm sure someone of your reputation would be far more interested in the man, considering how weak he is."

"HOW can someone with access to immortality be weak?" He growls. It would seem I've touched a nerve.

"Oh, have I ruined your little idea that if you live forever, you have no weaknesses? But I hope you aren't stupid enough to possibly think that?"

"HOW?"

"Oh dear, how hostile. I thought we were getting along. Guess I should have kept Grim here to calm you, hmm? Or do you just not like me having information you aren't smart enough to posses yourself?" I purr with a small smile on my face. I'm pushing his already heavily pressed buttons. He probably feels like the buzzers on America's got Talent.

The Clown Prince of Crime has an almost enraged look on his tattooed face and puts a gun to my head with speed that surprised me.
Facing down the barrel of the worn pistol has always given me a kind of high. I'm looking death in the face, or death for a normal person.

I chuckle and put my hands behind my head mockingly. "Oh, did little Marky get his feelings hurt?"

Joker's eyes narrow at my lack of fear. "What... are you?"

I grin now and laugh, "Wouldn't you like to know? But it's a secret." I made the shushing gesture and winked at his unsettled behavior.

I look at him and like lighting, take the gun and have it aimed at him. He immediately turns to get another weapon, but is stopped by the warning shot fired near his head.

I pout, "You didn't even let me say my piece. And speaking of pieces..."
I slowly take a glass ball out my cloak. It's hanging from a piece of twine and glows a strong amber color. "A piece of Ra's al Gul's rather fragmented soul. I suspect he can't even feel it anymore."

At Joker's stunned look I explain, with no small amount of annoyance, " If you are supposed to die, you will die. Certain people believe that certain actions escape death. Besides majorly pissing off every Grim Reaper to live, they also made a huge mistake thinking they have cheated the most absolute thing in existence. They have not. A little, or unknown side effect of the famed Lazarus Pits is losing your soul not as a whole, but in pieces. You'll still die, it just takes longer each time you take a dip. The pit only divides the soul inside you so it doesn't all leave in one go. It will also take a piece to us. If we so desired, we could gather all the fragments, combine them, and the result would be enough soul to drag Ra's al Gul to Hell."

Joker leans back to digest the information. "When you say little or unknown, do you mean..."

"The guy splitting his soul like timber doesn't know."

"But if he did..."

"Imagine what he would do to get them back."

Joker narrows his eyes again. "Why tell me this?"

I shrug. "Because I'm bored and I can. Good enough?"

"What's in it for you, shorty?" For a guy clinically insane, he's asking all the right questions, like a good mob boss. Points to Harley Quinn for getting a guy that can do both.

However...

"Gahh! Why?" Joker demands, holding the arm I just shot.

I perch on the desk. "Because, sugar, one: I can and two: I didn't say you can call me shorty." I smile sweetly.

I roll him the ball with the soul.
"This is to point you in the right direction. The only clue I'll give you is that the other pieces are in areas crucial to Gotham's history. There are 50 pieces total, unless Ra's splits some more."

He examine the glowing orb. "Not terribly difficult." He mutters and then looks at me, "What's the catch?"

I chuckle again. "You have three days before I inform the other crime bosses and Batman of the same thing. Ra's may or may not know of the race to win his soul."

I stand up and stare Joker down, slowly removing my hood. He starts at my seemingly young face.

"This is my game and I've chosen you to play. If you even think about tracking me down for clues as to who or what I am then you best remember one thing."

I back up as Joker silently asks the question of what he should remember.

"You aren't the craziest being in this room. And you're certainly not the most dangerous."

I snap my fingers and a blinding jet of red light jumps from the symbol I carved on the non-mohogany desk. In that moment of confusion I leap out the hole and cover my tracks.

I can't wait for the game to begin.

____________________________

The Clown Prince of Crime lifts his head from his desk groaning as he wonders what caused him to black out. He looks around his cluttered office space and sees nothing amiss.

Noticing a faint light on his desk, Joker, formerly Mark Hamill, spies a gently pulsing amber glow contained in a glass ball next to an envelope.

Curiously gazing at the orb, Joker opens the envelope only to be covered in a coat of blue glitter that vaguely reminds him of something that took place earlier tonight. He couldn't quite remember what it was until the words on the thick paper gave him a starting recollection of memory that had him looking for a drink, and if the text on the paper was true, a new hideout.
The letter:

                  Good luck, Mark. You'll need it.
P.S. Considering how all or most of your lookouts are deceased, you may want to find alternate accommodations.