"Speaking about cops, can I tell you folks something in confidence? GCPD has the reputation of being the most corrupt office in the country and I really just don't get it! I mean don't get me wrong, the average Gotham cop is lazy, poorly trained, ill equipped, unable to trust his colleagues, and in debt to at least three criminals...so, you know, a cop."
Joker paces, "But that's the thing about Gotham, we HAVE to be the best and the grittiest and the realest. I mean, God, people, Hugo Strange just turned some poor people into giant bio-monsters and we STILL act like we're above the rest of the world when it comes to that crap. We take this weird sort of pride in being the shame of the nation when really, like. Listen. Metropolis, you know where that soda tax goes? Like where you pay more in tax for a bottle of iced tea than the actual tea costs? Gosh I guess it goes to the 'repurposed' Intergang tanks and laser weapons these oh so comfortingly named 'Science Police' are using these days. Opal City's basically run by a single family, everyone with red hair and a bad attitude's a cop. The Twin Cities keep making new supervillains which is about how things go here, the new Mister Element's a hilarious story but Cold tells it better than me. In Saint Roiche they all believe in magic...which is real but also, like, kind of weird to see cops with gris-gris bags to ward off the dead?"
"If anything I think Gotham deserves credit for not going insane as the rest of this country. We're just the baseline!" Joker laughs at this, "The gold standard, if you will. Think about that when you tuck the kids in at night, folks, Harvey Bullock's the best we've got."
And then he hears the heckler. The man next to you, Piper, looks at you like you've killed him, and you may have. Joker pauses for a second.
And smirks, "Now, friend, its Current Year, you're not supposed to tease people about that sort of thing anymore. By the way, doesn't this place have a dress code?"
"You know I've got a great story about that whole thing, God knows everyone thinks I want to get under the sheets with the Bat, but I don't want to Kramer out this early..."
The bartender blinks at you doctoring the drink, Ralph, but shrugs. It's above his pay grade.
Your keen detective skills might notice one piece of the bartender's flare, a large roughly built man with a neck tattoo, is a button on his suspenders with "SMILE" written on it. He touches it once before getting back to cleaning.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2017-01-22 09:00 pm (UTC)Joker paces, "But that's the thing about Gotham, we HAVE to be the best and the grittiest and the realest. I mean, God, people, Hugo Strange just turned some poor people into giant bio-monsters and we STILL act like we're above the rest of the world when it comes to that crap. We take this weird sort of pride in being the shame of the nation when really, like. Listen. Metropolis, you know where that soda tax goes? Like where you pay more in tax for a bottle of iced tea than the actual tea costs? Gosh I guess it goes to the 'repurposed' Intergang tanks and laser weapons these oh so comfortingly named 'Science Police' are using these days. Opal City's basically run by a single family, everyone with red hair and a bad attitude's a cop. The Twin Cities keep making new supervillains which is about how things go here, the new Mister Element's a hilarious story but Cold tells it better than me. In Saint Roiche they all believe in magic...which is real but also, like, kind of weird to see cops with gris-gris bags to ward off the dead?"
"If anything I think Gotham deserves credit for not going insane as the rest of this country. We're just the baseline!" Joker laughs at this, "The gold standard, if you will. Think about that when you tuck the kids in at night, folks, Harvey Bullock's the best we've got."
And then he hears the heckler. The man next to you, Piper, looks at you like you've killed him, and you may have. Joker pauses for a second.
And smirks, "Now, friend, its Current Year, you're not supposed to tease people about that sort of thing anymore. By the way, doesn't this place have a dress code?"
"You know I've got a great story about that whole thing, God knows everyone thinks I want to get under the sheets with the Bat, but I don't want to Kramer out this early..."
The bartender blinks at you doctoring the drink, Ralph, but shrugs. It's above his pay grade.
Your keen detective skills might notice one piece of the bartender's flare, a large roughly built man with a neck tattoo, is a button on his suspenders with "SMILE" written on it. He touches it once before getting back to cleaning.