Bruce Wayne sat in a downpour, watching about a dozen and a half of the Joker's men wander around through their main base of operations. Over the last few days he had scouted out several of the locations he had acquired, and this one was the one. A warehouse, or what once was one, converted and modified to serve as a heavily fortified stronghold in the city. Walls heavily reinforced with concrete and steel beams, the scarce windows heavily barred over, and doors so thick you would think you were breaking into a bank vault. This would not be easy, and with only a vague layout of the interior structure indicating multiple choke points and blind corners, nor would it be safe. Bruce needed some backup. As he had expected he would. A burner phone bought with cash came out, and the police were called.

.....

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" The police dispatcher who answered the call had had a very long day, and wasn't sure whether she wanted to go home or stay at work less. This call, though, would make up for it. All the sleepless nights spent away from her family, working the phones and relaying information and waiting to go home and be kept awake by that same family had led up to this point and the promotion that would stem from it. For on the other end of the line was a gravelly and obviously disguised voice that told her that it was making a move on the Joker. That it had the address for the gang's main base and that they needed to send as many men as they could spare. It relayed the information it had, and she immediately called the office of the commissioner once the voice had hung up abruptly. He picked up the phone almost before his secretary was done talking to her.

.....

Commissioner James Gordon had been waiting for this break. Months upon months of the Joker's deranged grip on the city had run the entire police force ragged, Jim most of all. He wished they hadn't, he wished he could be there for them, but his family suffered for it all the same. He spent long hours in his office, or at any of the precincts across the city, trying to get somewhere on this. Inch by inch they had pried information from the gang members left by the vigilante character that had been putting the entire force to shame for weeks. Jim was glad the guy hadn't killed anyone yet, it meant he only had to put up a token effort towards catching him. He had gotten close, though. Several of the Joker's gang ended up needing medical assistance. Not to say that the thugs didn't deserve it, an opinion he kept himself from sharing with anyone but his wife, but what their mystery man was doing was still very illegal. Even if it got results. Jim just wished he would have shared those results with the police earlier. The gang had thus far been very uncooperative. Even to the point of supplying false information to lead his men on wild goose chases all across the city. Jim would wonder how the vigilante knew the answers he got were genuine, but he knew there was a certain level of honesty one suddenly acquires after an extensive beating. Heaven knows Jim had to stop his men who knows how many times from using those same methods. Results or not, he wanted to run an honest police department. One above repute. He had his work cut out for him, to say the least.

But finally they had a break. From the vigilante no less, which was a matter of no small amount of shame on Jim's part. Slipping on his coat and hat, he rushed out of his office. They had a madman to catch, and he would be there when they did.

.....

Bruce watched, trying to pump as much info out of the scene as he could while he waited for the police to show up. He had gone over dozens of scenarios before calling them, and the one he figured would give any chance of success was when they were distracted, fighting the police. He watched, re-memorizing the layout, trying to predict how the men inside would react to SWAT teams busting in, squad cars showing up and barricading the block, how they would defend their place. It didn't look good for the cops. Joker had had the place gutted and redone, and it looked like the walls were heavily reinforced. He could see steel beams and mesh hiding inside every exterior wall, and suspected there was a solid foot of concrete beneath the unassuming steel paneling visible from the outside. The interior had similarly reinforced walls, though to a lesser degree, and every doorway and corner seemed designed to serve as a choke point. The exterior doors looked like they would fit better on a bank vault than a warehouse. The gang would have plenty of warning on where the police were going to enter. There was a very discrete side entrance, though, that seemed to lead directly to what appeared to be a safe room. The room Joker was currently in, and had seemed to have set up as his primary headquarters. The image was difficult to make out, the equipment designed to find heat, metal, and electrical currents more than interior design details, but Bruce thought he could make out a throne. That certainly tracked with the Joker's ego. And then Bruce heard sirens in the distance, a lot of sirens. The cavalry were here. It was time to get to work.

.....

Joker paced the room, no thoughts to his route, wondering what he could blow up next, who he could kill, when one of his men burst in. Immediately the poor man had a gun pulled on him, the wielder grinning malevolently. "I thought I told you guys I was busy." Joker cocked an eyebrow at the man. "So this had better be important." The man's eyes bugged out, he threw up his hands, and nodded as fast as he could, barely choking out a "Cops!" He had tried to avoid Joker as much as possible for this exact reason. But when a dozen squad cars and half that of SWAT vans pull up, telling the boss is more important than your nerves about working with him. Joker, for his part, scowled and fired. This wasn't something he wanted to deal with, and he didn't know how he would. The defenses were most of the way done, but the further you tried to force your way into the building, the easier it would be. And he hadn't managed to reinforce his escape route yet, and had barely managed to disguise it. He knew he should have done that first. Or at least not last. He stepped around the rapidly expanding pool of blood and out of his safe room, affectionately dubbed "the bunker", and yelled out to his men. He also hadn't had a chance to install the intercom. And he had actually had to buy that, too. He could have stolen it, but he had no idea where he would have to go to do so. So it was easier to buy it, despite wanting to steal it out of principle. Heheh. "PIGS INBOUND, BOYS AND GIRLS!! GET READY FOR A FIGHT, I'D RATHER NOT DETONATE THE BUILDING!!" Damn it, that was another thing he hadn't had time to do, come to think of it. He really hoped that someone had paid attention when he explained how to defend the building, or else he wouldn't have a backup plan outside of just run. Not that he would have blown the place while he was in it, but at least he wanted to be able to take out the cops immediately after they figured out he wasn't there anymore. Ah, well. Next time. This time, he would have to settle for escaping. As he returned to the safety of his bunker and sealed the door, he chuckled. He'd have to blow up a precinct after this. Really rub their faces in it. Joker knew he could have had men inside the police department, feeding him information, but frankly, that wasn't any fun. There wasn't any suspense to knowing everything the police knew, there wasn't any thrill to it. This? This was fun. This was thrilling. A massive shootout at the Joker's base, and when they finally kill their way through twenty, twenty-five people, he wouldn't even be there at the end of it. And they would have to kill them. He had kept back all the real nutsos for his own base. All of them freakily devoted to him, and ready to die in defense of him. Heheheh, he should really feel bad about that. But as much as he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, he didn't want that to be against cops. He still needed an enemy, an antithesis, a hero to vie against. To endlessly clash with, destroying the city in their wake as they do battle. Someone would rise to the occasion, he knew it. And it would be glorious.

.....

James watched as the SWAT teams hustled out of their vans, eight men to a team, five teams. All in all, most of Gotham's police were congregated in this location. The thought that this was a trap flashed across his mind and he waved it away. He could only hope it wasn't, because that could be catastrophic to the GCPD as a whole. In minutes, the entire block was cordoned off, and the SWAT teams were organized, gear triple checked. A canopy was erected to protect the various monitoring equipment from the rain, and everything was checked again. On usual busts, the body cams were checked and parsed through after the fact, but this was an operation that required constant monitoring. So all of the feeds were going to be displayed for him and his men to monitor from a safe distance. Jim desperately wanted to go in with them, but knew it was practically a death sentence, and already knew several of his officers would not be making it back. And then, everything was ready. He gave the green light, and the SWAT teams rushed to breach. Each team swung their rams at the doors, and each team bounced off, their efforts making more noise than effect. Hardly a dent was left in the massive steel doors, and Jim realized this might not be as quick of a raid as he was hoping it would be. Several minutes later, he called in and requested a few pairs of jaws of life. Already things were going poorly.

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.....

As soon as the jaws of life were delivered and the teams entered the building amidst a hail of gunfire, the Knight made his move. During the wait for the delivery, the police had attempted blowing through a wall, and almost immediately gave up. The warehouse was practically designed to survive a missile. Bruce, though, had his way in. It would not be easy, especially so to avoid the police, but he would take down the Joker. This was his chance, and as he climbed down the fire escape, he would not let it go to waste. He had to dodge two separate police patrols before even reaching the building, but once he had, it was a simple matter to wedge a prybar into the hidden door and drag it open. He rushed down the unfinished looking hallway, and heel kicked open the door leading into the bunker. And came face to face with the Joker.

.....

The Joker had started making his way towards his escape route when its hidden panel door violently exploded outwards. And through it stalked an enormous man, clad in all black, almost futuristic looking riot gear. This man wasn't with one of the SWAT teams. Joker grinned, wider than usual, and drew one of the several knives concealed in his coat, stepped back and starting to circle like a hungry and very toothy shark. The man in front of him mirrored his movements, fists raised. Joker's grin grew a little wider in anticipation and he pointed his very large knife at the man. "Well hel-lo! You know, I think I saw you on TV. You're the guy who's been beating on my boys, aren't you? Heheheh, I think I like you. You've got spirit! Ha! You've been really hard to pin down, though, and I was almost starting to wonder when you were gonna show up." He faked a pout at this, but the man didn't respond, circling silently, studying him. Watching, waiting, calculating. Ohhh, this was gonna be a world of fun. Though it had been a while since he had actually been in a fight. Joker didn't doubt that he would probably lose in a straight brawl, but that's what he had fighting dirty for. The only question was how much of it would work. This guy had probably been studying him for months, and Joker had no idea how many of his gags could be anticipated. Fortunately, most of his toys never saw television, some of them he had never even used outside of testing, and that was something he was banking on. What info had been dragged out of his men, however, was unknowable. For a moment, they just circled, Joker smiling, Knight staring, and then the Joker lunged. A feint with his larger knife, while he dropped a second, smaller one out of his sleeve and into his left hand. The first stab was knocked away, and Joker found himself pulled forward along his momentum, stumbling towards a punch to the gut. He took it, gasping, and stabbed his left forward, scoring a hit into the giant's own stomach. He felt that the knife didn't puncture very far, and didn't expect that he had even cut the man, but there was still force behind it. The Knight stumbled back, not expecting the swift and frankly underhanded retaliation, and they were back to circling. Now Joker openly brandished both knives, no hiding them now, the large and highly polished bowie meant to grab attention away from the matte black switchblade. A beautiful combination, one that the Joker was sure the man noticed. "Heheh, I'll be perfectly honest with you, I won't claim to be the best at this. But I don't have to be the best, do I?" Joker practically taunted his opponent. This, this was what he wanted. This was fun. "I've just got to be unexpected, unpredictable. And we both know that that's my specialty, don't we?" The black-clad man lunged this time, dancing his footwork forward while aiming a strong jab at the Joker's head. Joker laughed and scampered backwards, but found himself pressed, the man continuing his charge, following the jab with an upwards hook that connected with the Joker's ribs and nearly took him off his feet. Joker was stumbling again, but reversed his grip on the bowie and swiped back, taking advantage of the large blade to carve deep into the man's side with another retaliatory strike. They separated again, Joker coughing out a laugh through his potentially cracked ribs, and the man bleeding through his suit. They now both favored a side, and were, while not evenly matched, evenly wary of the other. Joker felt his right hand shake a little, and risked a glance down. That punch had practically rendered that arm useless, and he definitely didn't trust it to be able to hold a knife. As they circled some more, he tossed the bowie to the side and the switchblade into his right. He might not be able to use it easily or effectively, but he could still throw better with that hand. And throw it he did, with dart-like accuracy at the man, before snatching a crowbar from a pile of tools in the corner.

.....

Bruce, meanwhile, was forced to dive to the side to avoid the three inch long blade being embedded in his face. And once he regained his footing, he now had to deal with the clown bull rushing him with a crowbar, suddenly laughing wildly. His armor could take a beating, and withstand it, for the most part, but that didn't mean that he wanted to. Even in the hands of someone as wiry as the Joker, a blunt metal instrument was still potentially fatal to any attacker. Even with the added protection of armor, it definitely could still be the deciding factor of the fight. Bruce dodged the first overhand swipe, but the backhand then caught him in the side, straining his cut even further and making spots dance in front of his eyes. This was bad, and he had to end it as soon as possible. Immediately, he slapped his arm down over the crowbar, pinning it to his side, despite his wound's protestations. Grabbing it with his right, he pulled it from the clown's grasp, following its arc with his left hand in an uppercut straight into the man's jaw. Joker's head snapped back, and he stumbled back a few steps, swaying, before straightening, stepping forward, grinning madly, and falling flat on his face. It was over.

.....

Jim Gordon watched as his men finally cut and tore through the ridiculously massive doors, hauled them open, and were immediately caught in a barrage of gunfire. Two men went down before they could even react, and the third was still hit twice. He watched as tear gas was thrown in, and when that failed to work, flashbangs. Only then were the SWAT teams able to even enter the building, and immediately began sweeping and clearing the rooms. At every single doorway they seemed to face more opposition, and struggled to make any headway into the killbox of a building. Several police went down and had to be hauled out to receive medical attention, some dying before they could even be removed. Their body armor was top of the line, but under constant fire, there was only so much it could do. A hit, two, three, maybe even four could be withstood, but eventually the armor will fail. Slowly, they progressed through the building, forming a three pronged pincer that worked its way through the front, back, and loading bay entrances. Clearing room after room, and trying to keep deaths low, on their side as well as the Joker's. They needed men to arrest, not bodies to bury. If they started hauling out bodies after bodies all in bags, the news would have a field day. And they would probably end up accused of some sort of massacre. Journalists and reporters. Ugh. Minutes passed, very long minutes, and eventually they reached the only place the Joker could be holed up. The place was a bomb shelter within a bomb shelter, and as arrests were made and injured as well as bodies were carried out by paramedics, Jim had the jaws of life brought in. It was time to be done with this. Jim himself walked the metal cutting implements in, intent on being there in person for the arrest. He hoped that there wasn't another holdout of men inside, ready to fire once the door was open. He stood to the side all the same. It wasn't like they would be able to shoot through the concrete. Not unless they had artillery. Once the door was rent apart the same as the first ones though, only silence followed. The officers peeked their heads in, and found a nearly empty room. Jim walked in and found the Joker, bound and unconscious, laying on the floor. A piece of paper lay beside him, with the words "you're welcome" written. Jim glared. Of course he had gotten to him. Of course. Jim had quietly respected the vigilante before, but no longer. His actions had cost police lives, and while Jim couldn't officially expect him to take on the entire compound, the fact that he had called the police as a diversion grated on him. When he had been helpful, Jim could ignore him under the pretense of having bigger fish to fry, but now James Gordon wanted this man found. Rationally, he knew that it wasn't right, but he had lost good men, and that trumped the rational part of his reasoning. This vigilante had his fifteen minutes of usefulness, but now it was time to face justice for acting outside the law. James would see to it.