Ask Gotham's Finest

This is a place where you can chat with me, the Clown Prince of Crime, Joker! ... Oh, yes, and I suppose the rest of those fools as well.

Though, before we begin, I'd like to establish some rules to our little game.

♤ First, be respectful. Or as respectful as you can be to some of these crimes against crime. Ha ha ha!

♡ Second, please state who you're asking the questions to. If you don't, your answeree will be randomly selected, ooh~! You can ask for villains, heroes, civilians, whoever strikes your fancy.

◇ Third, your asks may be answered with art, writing, both, or neither! If you want something specific, feel free to ask for one of those genres.

♧ Fourth, I just wanted to finish this list and show you all that I have text symbols for each of the playing card suits. Yippee!

Now, go forth and conquer, my dearest civilians! (Or let us do the conquering for you!)

What an absolutely delightful question, dear anon!! There's moi, you're truly, as you well know~ Pardon my French, hahaha!! And, of course, my dear old Batsy~! Mwaahh~!! The perfect duo between good and evil, don't you think? I suppose there are others as well, but who gives a damn about them?? But oh well, since we're here. You could ask questions to anybody in Gotham. Villains, heroes, civilians if you so please. But as of now, my darling Batman is the only hunk of a hero stopping everyone from doing their rightful crimes! He really can't take a joke, now can he~ Hahahahahahahaaa~!!

Why, if it isn't my dear old fans~!! What a pleasant surprise! You missed me, I'm sure, hehehehehe~! Now now, don't you worry your silly little heads about me. The blog is.... Well... Let's just say, under new management. Going through renovations. The ol' switcheroo~ Well, if you can call it that, that is. Just you wait, dear reader... I'll be back~ HeheheheheHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Who is the best at answering your riddles? Is it another rogue, a vigilante, or a random civilian?

Do you like your riddles being answered?

I must say, that is a good question. Should there be a hidden genius among these Gothamite idiots, I would like to meet them, surely. As for who I've had the pleasure of conversing with so far, Batman has proven himself to be quite the clever bat. I can't say I enjoy when he answers them all correctly, since that usually means my plans have been foiled... But it is nice to see that I'm not the only person in this forsaken city with all of my screws intact.

Aside from him, I do enjoy playing riddles with the Penguin, though he isn't the best at answering them.

(Ngl thier kinda my faves) ✨️

Catwoman: 🐈‍⬛ There are no more kill-policy cat shelters in Gotham. That’s my doing. And as long as I’m around, it’s going to stay that way.

Poison Ivy: 🌿 Gotham will be carbon neutral by 2030. Don’t get me wrong, a huge part of that is because of everyday Gothamites. But me creating new parks and reducing factory pollution certainly didn’t hurt.

Harley: 🤡 I reached Grandmaster-I in Marvel Rivals today :D

Poison Ivy: 🌿Oh wow.

Catwoman: 🐈‍⬛ Yeah, you win.

The kind that's still wriggling, of course!

-Penguin

There's nothing quite like smashing expensive pottery and venting about your problems with an old friend. Life isn't always purr-fect for us on this side of the law, so after a quick trip to the local rage room for their industrial-strength baseball bats, Jokes and I like to visit museums, mansions, wherever has the best pretties to turn into thousands of pretty pieces. Of course, we always finish the night with a bit of stealing. Can't go out on a heist without actually doing the heist, right? That would be a cat-astrophy.

Joker:

The Riddler? Oh, where do I begin with that nuisance? Not only is he the worst example of a villain in this city, but he can't even claim he's just plain cookoo to explain it all! He's just a twink with no passion outside of his daddy issues and gifted kid burnout. And his gimmick? Oh baby, don't even get me started on his gimmick! He really just stole my look, my jokes, my theme, and moved it to the left a little. And his riddles aren't even good! No wonder my dear Batsy is so good at solving them. The pest probably gets them from a book. And who writes those blasted things anyway? Who has the time? Besides, he always has this... Eugh, smug look on his face. That being said, it does irk me that he's still running around my city causing havoc, but I suppose imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that the mediocre can offer to the masters. But I'm still the original.

Riddler:

Catwoman watches from above, quietly pleased, as the two officers finally run out of steam. They come to a stop directly below the lamp post she’s using as a perch. Both of them are heaving for breath.

‘Where,’ the first one gasps, doubling over. ‘How …’

‘This can’t be happening.’ His partner sweeps the bleak street with her torch even as she groans with frustration. She’d be an Egyptian Mau if she was a cat: ever alert, covered with spots. ‘She was here just a second ago.’

Catwoman tweaks the settings on her spy goggles, zooming in on her name badge. Det Sgt D. Hanrahan. She roves across to the male officer next: Sgt N. Gage.

‘We’re so screwed,’ Gage groans. ‘The commissioner’s going to explode.’

Hanrahan grimaces, but doesn’t deny it.

‘Keep looking,’ she orders. ‘Don’t give up.’

Catwoman smirks, though. They will give up. They always do. Sooner or later, no matter how strong their resolve, the two officers will call it quits and Catwoman will be free to prowl her way home. But as Catwoman watches them split up down the street and start checking parked vehicles, it becomes clear that she’s not going to be leaving here any time soon.

That’s okay, though. She doesn’t mind waiting.

She has her stolen diamonds for company, after all.

They’ve been at it for almost an hour by now, hauling crates one by one from the loading bay into the Iceberg Lounge. Some of them are worse than others. The heaviest ones are filled with ammunition and military grenades. It’s those crates in particular that make Penguin feel like his arms are going to break away at the shoulders.

Complaining helps.

‘I mean it,’ Penguin snaps. ‘The next time a henchman stands me up on unloading day, he’s going the way of the Titanic.’

‘Aw, Pengy.’ Riddler practically coos it at him, the smug bastard. He’s lugging his own box without a problem. ‘They’re not that heavy.’

‘Yours might not be,’ Penguin huffs. ‘This one weighs a ton.’

Riddler grins.

‘Admit it. I’m stronger than you.’

‘Stronger smelling, maybe.’

Penguin winces internally as soon as the words leave his mouth. He knows he’s getting cranky. And between the two of them, it’s definitely Penguin that smells the worst, his brow glistening with sweat at the hard labour. Riddler’s not offended, though. He just tips his head back and laughs musically.

‘Here’s one for you,’ the taller man beams. ‘I have no teacher, yet you’ll find me in a school. Sometimes in forests, but never in pools. What am I?’

Penguin’s nostrils flare. So do the feathers at his coat collar.

‘Stinky. That’s what you are.’

He was just saying it to be mean, at first. Now, though, he’s finding a new truth in it. There’s an oceanic scent coming from Riddler’s general person, so salty that it’s almost metallic.

‘I mean it,’ Penguin snaps. ‘You smell like …’

What is that? It’s … clean—but pungent, somehow—briny like seawater while still being rich and oily. In a word?

It’s mouth-watering.

‘What’s in that box?’ Penguin demands. Riddler just wiggles his eyebrows.

‘You tell me, birdbrain.’

It unleashes something in him. Penguin shoves Riddler out of the way, ripping the crate open with his bare hands, splinters be damned. Sure enough, the crate is packed to bursting inside. But not with guns. Instead, it’s filled to the brim with …

‘Fish?’ Penguin says helplessly. ‘You …’

Fish. Penguin could cry. Riddler got him fish—raw, fresh fish straight from the ocean—tender and scaly and plump. His stomach growls like a polar bear. Penguin thinks he’s even starting to drool, looking up to Riddler with hearts in his eyes, as if for permission. Riddler’s eyes turn that little bit softer as he looks back at him, even as that shit-eating grin spreads out across his face.

‘Exactly.’

If you could choose anywhere in Gotham to run into Batman: where? And why?

Oh, dear. How’s a girl to choose? The rooftops, the alleys, the banks … it doesn’t matter. Batman is perfect, everywhere, every time. I suppose my honest answer would be anywhere I can get him alone.

As we speak, though, I’m especially eager for him to get his little Bat skates on and come find my little scheme at a certain abandoned amusement park. I’m sure he’ll get here soon. It’s not as if I’ve given him much of a choice, really. Hostages? Tick. Bombs on a timer? Tick. Burning ferris wheel, the smoke from which is visible by now from low orbit?

Girl. You know that’s a tick.

Thank you for proposing our debut question, Anon. You clearly have a clever head on your shoulders if you prefer to speak with me over the... let's face it, more popular characters in this corner of the world. I apologize that I could not stay for longer. The Penguin and I are quite busy with crates at the moment.