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					Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I make any money from this story. I‟m
just a writer with too much free time.

                   This story contains no sex, but death and mutilation.



                            Batman Beyond: The New Joker

                                   By the catsamurai16

                                     Part 1: The Birth


         The night was cold. Something Terry McGinnis had gotten used to. He had to use
his suit to fly because the Bat plane had been fragged in an air to air battle with a group
of Jokerz. The Jokerz were thugs that named themselves after the greatest Batman villain
of all, the Joker. The Harlequin of Hate, the Clown Prince of Crime, The Ace of Knaves,
a six foot three, skinny mad man whose skin was bleached white, hair was changed green
and his mouth shaped into a permanent smile. The Joker was a man who coined the
phrase, "random violence." Terry had hardly heard more then that about the original
Joker, but Bruce Wayne, Terry's mentor and the original Batman, assured him he was
nothing like the Jokerz. He remembered more of what Bruce had told him. He was a
monster, a pure and undeniable psychopath. He was also a genius, a master of chemistry
and technological sciences. Terry smiled and thought, "I wonder where the challenge
was?" He was going to talk to Wayne for a bit, but he remembered he was gone. He had
decided to let him go solo tonight. Terry always wanted to fly solo as Batman, but
something in him told him something was up.

        Terry put those thought in the back of his mind, there was still a city to patrol. He
flew for about thirty minutes when he saw trouble. “Speak of the devil,” Terry thought,
glancing down at a group of Jokerz. Terry zoomed down the landed right in the middle of
the group. He kicked two of the five Jokerz down. The Jokerz pulled out lasers and shot
at Terry. He ducked and darted out of the way. Terry dove and tackled one of the Jokerz.
One of the Jokerz shouted, "Screw him! We've got a party to go to." The other two Jokerz
got up and followed the other two. "No! Wait for me!" shouted the remaining Jokerz,
pushing Terry out of his way. Terry grabbed the boy‟s shirt and stopped him. "You‟re
with the wrong kind of crowd.” Terry said, noticing the Jokerz member wasn't any older
then he was, 17 at least. "Get away from me," said the boy, hitting Terry's arms off his
shoulder. He began to run in the direction of the others when Terry jumped in front of
him. "Hanging with the Jokerz is a bad idea," he said. The boy growled and began to
throw punches and kicks. Terry couldn‟t held but notice he was stronger then he looked.
Between punches, the boy said, "I don‟t need you to tell me that, Bat shit!” He swung
hard and hit Terry in the face. Terry fell back. He looked and saw that he was still in a
fighting stance. Terry said, "If you know how dangerous they are, why do you still run
with them?" "That's none of your business, Bat shit," said the boy. The boy threw another
punch, but this time it was caught by Terry. Terry threw a punch of his own, knocking the
boy down. The boy fell on his back and groaned. "Just tell me," Terry said, adding in
thought, “It‟ll be easier on the police." He turned on his recorder as the boy sat up and
wiped the blood from his mouth. The boy sighed and said, "I need the money. My
mom......she's ....she's dying, but if have the money; I could pay for her surgery. I'd never
get the money fast enough legally, so here I am. Now, let me go!" The boy jumped up
and hit Terry again. Terry staggered a bit, letting the boy get away. He switched on his
stealth mode and followed him. The boy ran for eight blocks before coming to the scene
of an ongoing robbery, being committed by the gang of Jokerz.

         The other's looked at him once and went back to work. The group leader, Bebo, a
hammer welding strong man, walked over to him. "You got guts coming here," he said.
"Look, Bebo, I‟m sick of this bullshit,” said the boy, sounding very annoyed. “I‟m part of
the gang now. Slag said so. I did everything. I planned this job, I paid off the new guards,
hell, I even killed the old one to make this night go perfect.” Terry was shocked. The one
called Bebo walked forward and said, “Oh, so you‟re telling me that you‟re the one who
stabbed that guard and cut his cheeks? Yeah, right.” The young man pointed his finger in
Bebo‟s face and said, “It‟s called a „glass-go smile,‟ but if you need me to show you,”
Just then, a blade came from the boy‟s sleeve! He grabbed it and held it to Bebo‟s throat.
“I‟ll be happy to show you,” the boy finished. Terry had heard about the incident they
were talking about. A security guard was killed at the jewelry store there robbing, three
weeks ago. He‟d been stabbed in the heart and a smiled had been carved into his face. It
was thought that the Jokerz had killed him. Terry scowled. He now knew how sick this
kid was. Bebo stepped back and said, “Fine. You‟re a member of the gang. And if this
job goes down, I‟ll give a good word for you with Slag.” “Good,” said the boy, “because
I‟ve earned it.” “Better,” Terry said, turning off his stealth mode, “because you‟re all
going down.” Bebo turned and shouted at the boy, “You idiot! You lead the Bat right to
us!” Bebo turned to Batman, raised his hammer and ran towards him. The other three
came and joined the fight. The boy just stood there and stared. He stood, mouth gaping at
the whole thing, the big picture. He realized this was his fault, he was going to lose his
mother and he was going to be killed by Slag. "No.....No......NO!" shouted the boy.

        The boy charged Batman, knife in hand. Batman turned and knocked the knife out
of his hand and swung. The boy ducked and landed an uppercut to Batman‟s chin.
Batman fell back and the boy lunged at him again. Batman struggled with the boy, how
has another knife in hand, trying to get him off of him. The boy growled, “Why?! Why
couldn‟t you just leave me alone, Batman?!” While Batman was struggling with the boy,
Bebo got up and ran. Batman kicked the boy off his chest and stood. The boy stood too.
He flicked his wrist and another knife came out of his sleeve. “Where are you getting
those?” Batman asked. The boy smiled and rolled up one sleeve. On his forearm was a
small band with a red dot in the middle. “I call it a „molecular storage unit.‟ It breaks
down the molecules of an item and stores them inside this port,” said the boy, pointing at
the red dot, “With this, I‟m able to store thousands of blades and with a tension of
muscles, I can retrieve them. Right now, I can only store small items, like these knives,
but soon with some modifications I‟ll be able to store something as large as a five story
building!” “Impressive,” Batman said, “Why not sell the design so it can be put to better
use?” The boy unrolled his sleeve and made a knife appear in his other hand. He charged
shouting, “Because I have a great use for it right now!” Batman sidestepped the boy and
knocked his feet out from under him. The boy landed hard on his face. Batman tied up
the boy and turned and said, “Now for the others.” After he finished tying up the three
Jokerz, he turned and saw the boy was gone. He‟d cut through his rope and escaped.
Batman shrugged it off. There would be another chance to catch him later. He dropped of
the Jokerz at the police and left to continue his patrol.

         Meanwhile, the boy had made his way thought the alley's and made his way into
an old sewer system to the lair of this branch of the Jokerz. When he walked in, he
expected to blend a bit, but as he did, everything stopped. Every eye was on him. He
made his way to the back of the place, where Slag, the leader was sitting with his
bodyguards and his lady, a beautiful blond blue eyed girl called Jill. He kinda half smiled
at her and then looked at Slag in his blue suit. Slag lifted his drink and took a long sip. He
set his drink down as the boy came to a stop in front of him. “So,” he said, somehow
sounding angry and happy at the same time, “You‟ve obviously come here for
something?” The boy shifted his weight and said, “I came to say I‟m sorry for the mix up
tonight and-” Slag raised his hand to stop him from talking. He stands and his bodyguards
close in on the boy. He says, “You think an apologue will get me back my men I lost
tonight because of you?” In one swift motion, one bodyguard gut checks the boy. The
other kicks him in the face, causing him to fall backward. The boy laid their in pain as
Slag walked closer to him. “And Bebo here tells me you‟re the one who killed that guard.
Because of that, the cops are pushing harder on us. I thought you were dumb before,” he
said, leaning over him, “Now I think you‟re suicidal.” The boy coughed up a bit of blood.
He tried to stand, but one of the guards kicked him in the stomach. The boy fell down
again, but he tried again, saying, “I know about more places to hit.” “It‟s too late now,
punk,” said a familiar voice. The boy looked up and saw Bebo, slightly bruised up, but he
still had a smug look on his face, “You‟re out.” The guards punched and kicked him
around some more. When they stopped, he stood and said, “I need…the money.” Bebo
walked forward and said, “After we‟re through with you, you won‟t need anything.” He
grabbed the boy around the throat and lifted him up off the ground. The boy struggled in
the grip of the stronger man, but it was no use. He was starting to lose feeling in his legs.
Before he blacked out, Slag said, “No. Put him down.” Bebo dropped the boy. As the boy
was catching his breath, the guards lifted him up by his shoulders. Slag walked to Bebo
and said, “I have something for you to do.” He looked at the body guards and said, “Take
him deep in the sewers and take care of him.” The boy looked up and said, “I‟ll get you
for this, you son of a-” His words were cut short by a left hook from Slag, knocking him
out. He rubbed his knuckles and said, “I don‟t think I have to worry about a future
corpse.” The guards dragged him away. Bebo looked at Slag, “Why didn‟t you let me do
it? I really want need to kill someone right now.” Slag looked at Bebo and smiled. “What
do you think I need you for?” he asked. He sat back in his chair and said, “Go pay a visit
to this sick mother of his.”

       Meanwhile, the guards continued dragging the boy through a maze of corridors.
They stopped in a large room. One punched him on last time and the other let him fall to
the ground. The boy used his device to pull a knife and he tried to get away, but the one
of his left kicked it out of his hand. They grabbed him again and pulled them off. They
beat him down for a few minutes more. Then one pulled a gun and was about it shoot
him, but the other stopped him. “What?” he said. And the other pointed to a large group
of metal barrels near them. “Let‟s dump him in one of those things. They gotta be full of
some kinda acid or something.” The other one nodded and they walked over to the barrel
and opened it. It was filled with a glowing green liquid. The lifted the boy into it, head
first. They turned and left, leaving the boy to die. The pain snapped the boy into
consciousness. The boy felt as if his whole body was on fire. His skin felt like it was
being ribbed off. His eyes felt like they had boiling oil poured on them. With incredible
pain induced strength, he burst out of the barrel. It hurt to move, hurt to touch, it even
hurt to think. One thought was running through his mind as he moved, “Must get home.
Must see mother one last time.”

        At this moment Terry, having finished his patrol, was with his girl friend, Dana
Tan. Terry was driving slowly, not to be careful, but so he could occasionally stare at her
perfect body. She smiled and brushed her black hair out of her eyes. She watched as he
looked up and down her body, obviously undressing her with his eyes. She chuckled and
said, “As much as I like to watch you fantasize, I‟d feel safer if you watched the road.”
“Sorry, Dana,” he said. She smiled. “So, where are we going?” she asked. “Oh,” said
Terry with a half smile, “Just to a movie.” She turned to Terry, “A movie? What movie?”
Terry looked into her eyes and said, “You‟ll see.” A few moments later they pulled up
next to a small, slightly downtrodden movie theater. In semi-light lights, the title of the
movie was shown. It read, “Night of the Living Dead.” Dana turned to Terry, who was
getting out of his car. “This is what we‟re coming to see?” she said in disbelief. “Yep,”
Terry said with a smile on his face. He stood beside Dana. She turned to him and said,
“This movie‟s so old!” “I know,” said Terry, still smiling. She shook her head and turned
to the theater, saying, “The effects are so crappy.” “I know,” Terry said, stepping closer
to Dana. “We‟re going to be the only people inside!” she shouted. “I know,” Terry
whispered into her ear, wrapping his arms around her. Dana caught onto the situation and
chuckled. Terry began to kiss her neck and listen to her moan. She turned to face him.
“You‟re evil,” she said, smiling. Terry smiled too and said, “But you love me, don‟t
you?” Dana pulled him in close and said, “Yes,” then gave him a deep kiss. She took his
hand and led him into the theater.

       Moments later, Dana and Terry were walking down the aisle in the empty theater.
She decided the middle row looked the most sturdy and pulled Terry down it.

       At that point, one of the two young boys down in the front whispered, “Wow, that
was hot.” The other turned and smacked his friend. “Quiet!” he whispered, “If they catch
us, we‟re dead.”

        Meanwhile, the boy was still stumbling toward his home. He clenched his teeth as
the pain in his bones faded. He reached the park, where he could get a clear view of his
house. He looked up and stopped in his tracks. He was staring at a sight that nearly killed
him. He saw his house in flames. He watched in horror as memories of his life there went
up in smoke. He slowly walked forward, never taking his eyes from the raging inferno.
The world seemed to disappear. All he saw was the burning house. He began to hear
voices saying things like, “I need help over here! This kids hurt bad!”, “What happened
to him? What could do this to a boy?”, and “What‟s with his eyes?” The next thing he
knew, he was sitting in an ambulance. He looked around slowly, looking for anything
familiar to cling to. He saw nothing he knew, only the medical supplies. He heard
someone coming close to the door. He looked and saw a paramedic come in. He smiled
and said, “It‟s okay. Do you remember what happened to you?” The boy said nothing,
just staring at him. The paramedic took out a small flashlight from his pocket. He flashed
the light in the boy‟s eyes and said, “Do you remember your name?” The boy still said
nothing. The paramedic stood and turned to leave. “My home,” The boy whispered. The
paramedic turned. “Pardon me?” he asked. The boy began to shake. He whispered, “My
home…fire…” There was a knock on the ambulance door. The paramedic turned and
left, leaving the boy alone. But somehow, through the metal doors and the shouts, he
heard the paramedic talking to a police man. The boy listened as they spoke.

        “So,” said the policemen, “How‟s he doing?” The paramedic sighed, “Well,
there‟s a list. For starters, he‟s been beaten really badly. Second, he‟s got chemical
residue all over him. I suppose that‟s how his skin, eyes, and hair changed color like that.
Lastly, he‟s in shock.” “From the chemicals?” asked the cop. The paramedic said, “Well,
yes, but there‟s more. I think the people that were in that house were his family.” “Have
you told him?” the cop asked. “No,” said the paramedic quickly, “I think that would be
bad. His minds very fragile right now, and I think telling him his family‟s dead will
shatter his rational mind.”

         The boy‟s eyes opened wide with shock. “….they‟re…..dead?” he said, as he felt
the world cave in around him. He tried to stand, but his legs were weak and he felt to the
floor. He picked himself up as the paramedic came rushing in, trying to help him to his
feet. The cop stared at the boy, not believing what he saw. “Son, are you alright?” he
asked, but the boy didn‟t hear him. He was staring at his arm. He saw that his skin was
pure white. He panted franticly, trying to process the whole thing. The chemicals….they
must‟ve done this. “I want a mirror,” he finally said. The paramedic said, “I don‟t think-,”
I want a mirror!” shouted the boy. The paramedic and the cop jumped a bit. He took the
laser gun from his holster. He didn‟t want to use it, but if he had to, he would. The cop
tried to get a look at the boy‟s face, but he was covered in shadow. The paramedic
reached into a drawer and pulled out a small hand mirror and handed it to the boy, who
snatched it out of his hands. He looked once. That was enough to see what had happened
to him. He dropped the mirror and fell to the ground. He put his hands over his face and
sobbed loudly. The paramedic inched forward and patted the boy‟s shoulder. “It‟s okay,
son,” said the paramedic, trying to console him, “We can help you.” The boy continued
to cry, but soon his cries slowly became chuckles. The paramedic slowly began to back
up as the boy‟s chuckles turned into laughter. The cop became anxious as the boy‟s
laughter grew louder and louder. “I get it!” the boy said, laughing manically, “I finally
get it!” The paramedic was going to back away fully, but the boy grabbed him around the
throat with lightening quick speed. The cop jumped a bit when he saw this, but stood his
ground. “Let him go,” commanded the cop. The boy smiled widely and stood, lifting the
paramedic off his feet. The cop stared in awe as the boy turned to him, looking like a mad
man. The cop shivered when he noticed the boy‟s eyes. They were glowing red! The cop
snapped out of his fear and said, “Put him down!” “Or what?” said the boy, “You‟ll
shoot?” “Yes,” said the cop. The boy chuckled, “The only way you can shoot me is by
shooting through him. And I don‟t think you have the guts for that.” With startling speed,
the boy lifted a scalpel and sliced the stomach of the paramedic. The cop watched in fear
as his intestines and other organs fell to the floor. “Now,” said the boy with a laugh,
“Neither does he.” Then, he threw the dead body of the paramedic at the cop, sending
them both outside. The cop dropped his gun and it was caught in midair by the boy. He
laughed as he stepped on the paramedic‟s organs, “Now neither does he. That‟s a good
one.” He stepped from the ambulance as the cop was still checking the paramedic. He
looked up at the boy and froze in terror when he saw his face. He smiled widely as he
raised the gun to the cops head. He chuckled and said, “Dropped this.” The next thing the
cop saw was a flash of light, after that he saw nothing. The other cop‟s around turned and
aimed for the boy. The boy looked around and smiled. He counted six altogether. “Now,
now, boys,” he chuckled, “Don‟t stop what you‟re doing on my account.” “Drop the
gun!” shouted an officer. The boy smiled and said, “Sure thing.” He did drop the gun, but
as he did, he leaped with terrifying strength to the closed officer and grabbed his. He shot
him and the other‟s before the other gun ever hit the ground. He smiled as he turned to
the firemen how where still working on stopping the fire that had once been his home.
They shook with absolute fear. The boy smiled and shouted, “BOO!” The firemen
dropped everything and ran, screaming. The boy‟s chilling laughter filled the night as
more police were on their way. The boy ran into an alleyway and found himself a bum,
who was “willing” to “share” his jacket with him. The boy slipped the jacket on, ignoring
the blood he had gotten on it, and walked away. He chuckled, “It‟s time this city had an
upgrade. My dear Gotham, sleep well and safe in your beds tonight, because I‟m going to
take that all away from you.” He stepped out of the alley and onto the street. He walked
into an Electronic store close by. He turned to the store keeper and smiled. The store
keeper jump in fear and ran out, screaming for his life. He took some electronics that
suited his needs and left. He lifted a sewer lid and slipped down. He was going to destroy
everything in this city. He decided to start with Slag and Bebo. He laughed to himself as
he worked and said, “Get ready for me Gotham. Me, the Joker 2.0.”


                                   The end of part one.




This re-rewrite comes from the heart. And a drain in fresh ideas. I’ll see ya
next time! – The Catsamurai16 

				
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