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♦ Wasn’t this a familiar scene? The Joker, seated in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table itself. A boy could learn to love this. In fact, one would think that the GCPD would’ve learned by now that this was a waste of effort by sheer example of the man they were holding. No. No, no, no, no, no. Something was definitely off about this situation, and the pale man could feel that even through the erratic thought pattern that he had been blessed with. It was time to play the waiting game; to see who was pulling the strings behind this little prank. Joker slumped slightly, his usually orderly, emerald hair drooping a few strands in front of his stone, icy hues. “Come out, come out, wherever you areeeee.” When the room’s doors let out a loud shudder, it seemed that those were the magic words. The large metal frame swung open, revealing only pitch blackness for a moment. There was a pause, then a flash of red, yellow, and blue. A suit? Bats?! No. It was someone else. A tall, muscular figure, with sleek, jet black hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. Superman. “Ooooh.” The pale man couldn’t help but let out a noise of surprise. “Now. They were all saying that you were dead.” He paused, flashing a grin of chrome-covered teeth with a slight snarl at the man. “But, you look pretty good for a dead guy. Been working out? I’d say you could use a little more sun. Then again.. Who am I to talk? Ahhhh Hah. Hah. Hah.”