ISSUE # 5

"The Clown Prince of Carpetbaggers"

The televisions in homes and stores across New Orleans began to lose their respective holds on the images flickering on screen. None of the televisions not in use did anything so ominous as to turn on by themselves, but any appliance receiving some sort of signal began to show a static-heavy readjustment of the picture. Viewers at home pounded on their remote controls or turned the knobs on the set, but found the same eerie image breaking in on every channel. Shoppers in stores and patrons in bars simply stopped in curiosity as the visage on the television screens became clear.

A man's face, impossibly long and painfully thin, dominated the picture once the static began to fade. The man's skin was grease-paint white, with blood red lips tautly framing an enormous, malevolent grin. Bushy green eyebrows curled over wild, jaundice eyes, and an unruly flourish of green hair framed the entire face. The man's shoulders, clad in a bright purple coat, could be seen as well, along with an orange shirt with a black string tie, but in a black turtleneck or a yellow and red Hawaiian shirt, the man on the screen would have been equally, instantly recognizable.

"Gooooooooood Morning, New Orleeeeeeeeaaaannnnnsss!!! Ha ha ha HAA HAA HAA!" the face on the screen cackled, then instantly dropped its tone of voice from playful glee to venomous gravity, "Joker here." The Joker waited a moment to allow his introduction to sink in, then continued in an upbeat manner: "I do hope you boob-tubers will forgive me for interrupting your Regularly. Scheduled. Programming." The Joker's head tick-tocked from side to side as he emphasized each word. "But have I got a deal for you!" the Joker smiled with sickening sweetness at the camera.

"Now, you may not know this, but your old pal Joker has long been a BIG fan of New Orleans. Big big big big BIG! And it's not just because of the cute little mosquitoes or the casual drug use, either!" the Joker giggled to himself, looking away from the camera, and then snapped his attention back to his audience. "No, kiddies, the thing that really GETS me about New Orleans is that it managed to spend quite a few years with the glorious distinction of Murder Capital of the U.S. A! And how could an artiste du morte like myself not respect achievement like that? Now, alas," the joker sighed, with one hand over his forehead and the other clutching at his heart, "I fear that your grand old town is in danger of losing its standings to some upstart like Los Angeles or Washington, D.C. Sooooo," the Joker went on, rapidly shifting gears from borderline suicidal depression to self-satisfied jubilation, "I've decided to do MY part to help make the Big Easy ... the Big Easier!!!" The Joker lowered his voice a full octave on the last three words, then broke into a bone-chilling gut laugh while never breaking eye contact through the television screen.

"Now here's how my little 'Mortie Gras' is going to work, kiddies. I've taken a cue from the law enforcement community," the Joker grinned cruelly, "since I've been so impressed by the 'Food for Guns' programs they've run 'round the holidays. Who knew food was such a precious commodity?" the Joker snickered. "So I've taken it upon myself to start up the Joker's First Annual Food for Guns Exchange. Just come to the Superdome one week from today at high noon ... yoooouuu bring the foo-hoo-hoood ..." the Joker was laughing so hard he could barely finish the sentence, " and I'll bring the GUNS!!!! HAA HAA HAAA HAAA HAAA!!!!" The Joker removed a green handkerchief from his coat's breast pocket and dabbed delicately at the corners of his eyes as his laughter subsided. "And not just any guns, but my own speeeeeecial variety! I'll be sure to bring plenty of them, so just haul in as much food as you can carry! Bring a friend! Bring your grandma ... and if you give me a good recipe to whip her up into, I'll give you her weight in ammunition!!! HAA HAA HAAA!!! We'll have the murder rate in New Orleans back up on top in no time, friends and neighbors, and it's my pleasure, no!" the Joker assumed a stance of mock sincerity, "my honor, to play my own small part in that effort! Remember - noon, one week from today, at the Superdome! Food for Guns! Tell 'em JOKER SENT YA!! HAA HAA HAA HAA HAAAAAAA!!!"

The Joker raised his hands over his head and began spinning in circles as his maniacal laughter swelled unabated. The static bled into the picture once again and the pirate signal ended, while the television sets across the city began to receive the normal signals again. But a ghostly afterimage of a madman's face in playing card colors remained on most of the viewer's retinas for some time after that.

"Ski masks. They're actually wearing ski masks. Where do you even get those in New Orleans? Do you have to special order them?"

"Cut the chatter, Valence," Pierce barked back though the sub-audible radio. Bad Blood was apprehending a gang trying to clear out the entire contents of a Piggly-Wiggly supermarket. Enigma had already warped out the customers and employees, and was tending to them in the parking lot as best he could until the police and paramedics arrived; fortunately there were only a few superficial gunshot wounds. Valence, Pierce, Karnival, Hangfire and More were cornering the group of eight would-be robbers, and as Valence had observed they all wore red ski masks in addition to their t-shirts, jeans and boots. They also bore identical gang tattoos on their right biceps - hairy spider silhouettes for the Tarantulas.

The gang was backed into the bakery section of the store, rapidly filling garbage bags with bread, donuts, rolls, and pastries. They turned at the sound of Valence and Pierce's voices and scattered.

Fortunately, before Valence's loud fashion commentary, Pierce had quietly used the sub-audibles to assign numbers to each robber and divide responsibility for them if they should break up and run. Bad Blood was prepared.

Thug One ran the long way down the store, through the pharmacy and health care aisle. Valence followed him in flight, reached out with his magnetic control and pulled steel cans of shaving cream off the beauty supply shelves, firing them at high speed at the back of Thug One's head. After the third direct hit the thug crumpled to the floor.

Thugs Two and Three cut over one aisle and darted up between the shelves of juices and powdered drinks, with Hangfire in pursuit. Hangfire let fly a few warning shots from his sidearm, loaded with his standard rubber mercy bullets. The crack of the report froze the thugs in their tracks, and they spun around with their own weapons drawn, and fired.

Hangfire activated his redirectional forcefield and made no attempt to dodge the bullets. Instead he carefully aimed at Thug Three's gun hand and squeezed off a shot. The rubber bullet struck dead-on between Thug Three's knuckles and he dropped his gun while yelping in pain. At the same time, both bullets fired by the thugs ricocheted off Hangfire's forcefield and reversed themselves unerringly at Thug Two's left foot. He also dropped his weapon as a cry of agony escaped his lips thanks to two different foot bones shattering. Hangfire sprinted up the aisle before the thugs could regain their composure, grabbed a head in each hand, and slammed the thugs' skulls into each other, knocking them out.

Thug Four headed directly for an emergency exit door in the back of the store. Karnival cast an illusion of a tall, stocky butcher in a blood-smeared apron blocking the doorway. The phantasmal butcher swiped at the Thug Four's midsection with an oversized cleaver, then reached into the thug's abdomen with his free hand and began pulling out loops of intestine. Thug Four shrieked in terror and passed out, still completely whole but convinced he had just been gutted.

Thugs Five, Six and Seven ran past More as they tried to make good their escape down the dairy aisle. More grabbed the push handle of a shopping cart, hoisted the cart over his shoulder, and bounded after them. With two powerful leaps he was almost on top of them, and swung down hard with the shopping cart. In one fluid motion More scooped up Thugs Six and Seven in a sweeping arc over his head, then slammed them down again on the linoleum, leaving the upside-down shopping cart atop their stunned forms. Thug Five was almost to the end of the dairy case, but More used his incredibly muscular legs to spring the length of the aisle and tackle the thug. Both went down hard on the floor, and as More regained his feet he could tell that Thug Five was still clinging to consciousness. More picked the thug up by the front of his shirt, bringing him to eye level so that the thug's feet dangled two feet off the floor, and brought a swift uppercut crashing into the thug's jaw. More dropped the unconscious man to the floor.

Thug Eight appeared to be the Tarantulas' leader, both by his command of the other thugs and the fact that he alone carried a double-barrel shotgun rather than a pistol. Thug Eight had not run when the rest of the gang scattered. Neither had Pierce. Now the two men faced each other down, waiting for one to make the first move. Thug Eight's expression grew more agitated under his ski mask; beneath his red and white helmet, Pierce's own was inscrutable.

Finally Thug Eight broke first, cocking both barrels of the shotgun and leveling it at Pierce's chest. The thug fired and buckshot exploded across the horsehead logo on Pierce's armor. Pierce did not flinch. The next move Pierce made was almost too fast to follow, as his telescoping staff slid down into his grip, extending as he swung it at Thug Eight's head. The tip of the staff snapped against the back of Thug Eight's neck, striking a nerve with devastating accuracy. Thug Eight slumped to the floor in a heap.

Valence flew over the aisles and returned to the bakery. "Swept the store," he reported, "and we're clear. That's all of them."

"Pierce ... are you all right?" Karnival asked, having witnessed the shotgun blast his teammate had withstood.

"Fine," Pierce answered tersely. "Might want Enigma to check my ribs, a little later, but the armor did its job. If anything I got a little bruised." Pierce thought a moment, as if unsure whether or not to continue, then said, "I just really like the look on their face right before I hit them back."

"Har, har," Karnival answered dryly, somewhat relieved.

"This is nuts," More announced as he rejoined the group, with a shopping cart tucked under his arm and three thugs stuffed unceremoniously into it. "You'd figure the Joker's announcement would have some impact, but there's a food-themed crime wave going down."

"And we can't possibly stop it all," Hangfire added. "Big grocery stores and restaurants that have security systems, sure, they make the police scanner. But think about all the small time hoods who break into folks' houses to rob their pantries. I heard a high school cafeteria got hit the other night. Thank God this 'Food for Guns' thing is only two days away."

"Are they actually going to let that happen?" Karnival asked in disbelief.

"We should probably find out what exactly the police have planned, if anything," Pierce nodded. "Let's get these losers outside for the blue boys now."

Valence magnetically summoned more shopping carts and they loaded the gang members into them. Valence pushed them out in a magnetic train as Bad Blood stepped out into the parking lot.

Two ambulances were pulling out of the parking lot. Enigma was turning a ninth gang member over to the police - the getaway driver. A cargo van idled in front of the store, all four tires blown out by Enigma's blaster. Pierce approached the police officer nearest Enigma and addressed him. "Officer ... Koelemay? Pierce, Bad Blood. We apprehended these dirtbags. I'm going to need to speak to the commander of police. I'd appreciate a ride back to the station house with you."

Officer Koelemay, an older man with a salt and pepper mustache, looked suspiciously at Pierce, and the rest of his teammates. Obviously the officer was not used to taking orders from anyone outside the police force. Koelemay replied coolly, "Well, I'm right sure I don't have room in the crusier for alla you boys, now."

"No, just me and ..." Pierce turned back to the rest of the team. He would have liked More's muscle along, but wasn't sure how comfortable the giant would be in the back seat of the squad car. Karnival and Hangfire didn't project the most reassuring appearances, and Enigma was their means of transportation to the Riverboat. "Valence, come on." Pierce turned back to officer Koelemay. "Just the two of us, Officer."

Koelemay seemed ready to object again, then simply nodded towards the car and went sround to the drivers seat. Pierce told Enigma, "Get everyone back to base. We'll let you know what we find out."

"Roger that," Enigma responded. A shimmering red portal opened in the air of the parking lot as Valence and Pierce got in the police cruiser. The rest of the team filed through the warp as Koelemay drove off.

An hour and a half later, Pierce and Valence landed on the top deck of the Riverboat and lowered themselves into the base through a hidden hatch. Hangfire, More, Karnival and Enigma were all gathered in the common area, waiting for their return.

"Well, THAT was frigging pointless," Valence announced as he and Pierce entered the meeting room.

"The police don't have much of a plan?" More inquired.

"Oh sure, they have a plan, 'Have a nice time, bad guys,' that's their plan." Valence flopped down in a chair and crossed his arms.

Pierce spoke next. "Apparently all the permits for use of the Superdome were filed well in advance of the Joker's broadcast. There's nothing illegal about him showing up there, or anyone else attending whatever he has planned. And there's nothing technically illegal about giving away guns, since he's not selling them. Or so the police inform us."

"What about all the creeps who show up to get the guns?" Hangfire pressed. "Won't they be able to make positive ID on some of them who've been knocking over 7-11's and Popeye's this week? Or who have outstanding warrants for other reasons?"

"Not to mention the fact that the Joker is an escaped felon himself," Karnival pointed out.

"Apparently, the local constabulary have been persuaded to look the other way on all of that. A few extra green pieces of paper were included when the permits were filed, if you know what I mean," Pierce answered disdainfully.

"Fantastic," Hangfire shook his head. "So what do we do now? Just plan on crashing the 'Food for Guns' event ourselves, maybe hope Batman shows up? He's probably at least heard about it by now."

"That reminds me," Pierce said distractedly, "Any luck tracking the source of that pirate signal the Joker used, Dirk?"

"Not yet," Enigma admitted. "The cable company gave me access to their logs, but the signal was bounced to half a dozen or more relays on its way to New Orleans. Pinpointing the broadcast origin is proving fairly difficult."

"You want to try to catch the Joker, wherever he is, before day after tomorrow?" More asked.

"I'm not entirely sure it's the Joker we're dealing with," Pierce replied. The rest of the team was taken aback as Pierce continued, "It just doesn't add up to me. The person who appeared on the televisions had the Joker's look and speech patterns down, no question. But that just indicates a well-trained actor. The whole scenario doesn't fit the Joker's style. I know, you could argue that trying to assign a 'style' to a raving lunatic is foolishness. But the Joker does fit a certain psychotic profile. He has a huge ego. He enjoys positioning himself as the top criminal in town. And he lives to antagonize Batman. Offering to re-arm New Orleans so the body count will rise ... it doesn't do anything for the Joker's direct benefit."

"Maybe he's just amused by the thought of people holding up grocery stores," Valence offered. "Or maybe once he's got all those criminals in the Superdome he's going to set off a Joker gas bomb and kill them all and dance on their graves. I'll be the one to go ahead and say it ... the guy's crazy. You never know what he's likely to do."

"Maybe," Pierce conceded reluctantly. "There's something else. I don't suppose anyone's checked up at Arkham Asylum, to see if the Joker has escaped recently or is still doing time in his padded cell."

The other members of Bad Blood looked around at one another, shaking their heads.

"I'll get on that," Pierce stated. "To answer your question, Johnny, I think we should definitely be present for the food/gun exchange. Try to slip in unobtrusively, see if we can't get a better sense of what this 'Joker' is really up to. I'm assuming we'll be on our own. We'll try to keep the chaos to a minimum. Agreed?"

The rest of the team assented. There was nothing to do but wait.

As the sun rose lazily over the Mississippi delta a day and a half later, five members of Bad Blood were already in place inside the Superdome. Valence and Enigma were in the upper deck of seats, on opposite sides of the football field, while Karnival, Hangfire and More staked out the lower levels of the stadium. They swept carefully over every inch of the Superdome, but found no evidence of anything out of the ordinary. They maintained radio contact with one another, as well as Pierce, who conducted surveillance outside the stadium in Hangfire's van. By midmorning the search of the Superdome was complete, and the heroes on the inside secreted themselves in hiding places from which they could view the field.

At 11 a.m. a single N.O.P.D. cruiser arrived and two officers stepped out, unlocking the front doors of the stadium. With that task finished the officers drove away. As noon approached, the gang members began to arrive at the stadium, slowly filtering in from various seedy sections of town. Most carried huge sacks over their shoulders; some pushed stolen shopping carts full of food. A blue pickup truck drove through the stadium gates and out to the field, its flatbed covered with plundered food and guarded by three gun-toting men sitting atop the pile, dressed in the gang colors of the Vultures. The criminal factions formed cliquish patterns on the football field, eyeing each other distrustfully, rechecking their weapons and their food supplies. The sun inched closer to its zenith.

"Pierce," Karnival called over the sub-audible radio, "any sign of the Joker yet?"

"Negative. Clear outsi ... wait, cancel that. The looney bird has landed."

A rumbling could be heard just outside the stadium as a large motor vehicle approached. Within moments a huge Winnebago was lumbering up the ramp from the doors and onto the field. It was painted bright purple, with a three-dimensional clown's face affixed to the windshield and front grill. A set of green public address speakers sprouted up from the roof of the vehicle.

The Winnebago lurched to a halt at the 50 yard line. The side door opened, and six men in clown makeup and costumes exited, lining up alongside the Winnebago. Once they were in position, the Joker swung out the door, grinning insanely at the assembled criminals. He lifted a microphone to his ruby lips, and the PA speakers squawked, "What's to eat around here, boys??? I'm STARVING!!!! HA HA HAAA!!!"

Cheers and laughter rose up from the assembled gangs. In total there were about 150 members of New Orleans' criminal element on the field.

"Here's the drill, my happy little campers," Joker went on, his amplified voice booming shrilly. "My fellow clowns are going to work their way through the mob here - don't worry, they don't bite, hee hee! - and figure out who managed to bring in the biggest smorgasbord. Those lucky stiffs will be able to come on up and get first picks from the Joker custom armory. And so we'll go, rewarding you all in turn for you hard work!"

Some of the enthusiasm seemed to evaporate from the gathered criminals, as they looked around at each other greedily to spot the biggest food cache. A few grumbles and half-voiced objections were heard.

"Now now now!" the Joker scolded with mock disappointment, as the clowns began to blend into the crowd and take stock of the food supplies. "Your uncle Joker promised there would be enough guns to go around, so whether you're first in line or dead last, you'll get what's coming to you. So no unhappy faces! HA HA HA!"

One of the clowns pointed at the driver of the pickup truck and jerked a thumb at the Joker's Winnebago. The driver nodded and pulled up in front of the vehicle's side door, and the Joker stepped aside to allow the Vultures in the flatbed to begin throwing bags of food inside the Winnebago. The Joker capered down to the passenger door of the RV, climbed in, and re-emerged with a light assault weapon painted a gaudy blue with pink polkadots. He walked back to the truck and handed it to the driver, who took it with an appreciative smile.

"Looks like this deal is really going down," More said to the team on the radio. "What do we do?"

"Nothing right now," Pierce's voice answered. "I've got my laptop and I'm hacking into the police records and I think I'm onto something. I've got a hunch, anyway. Just need a couple more minutes."

Suddenly, a shot rang out on the field, and one of the Vultures unloading the flatbed fell forward with blood oozing down the back of his head. The driver instantly aimed his Joker weapon at the gang standing near where the gunshot originated, the Black Skulls, and fired. The entire pickup truck rocked towards the Winnebago with the recoil, and an incendiary bomb exploded in the midst of the gang members, sending Black Skulls flying in all directions. Some of them were sent flying in pieces.

"No more time to wait, Pierce!" Karnival hollered into the sub-audible. "This is gonna be the SuperDeathDome in about one minute! The gangs are turning on each other!"

"All right, go, go go!" Pierce shouted back.

Another shot from the left side of the field was heard, and a member of Los Gauchos in yet another cluster went down. The gangbangers around him drew their own pieces and aimed in the direction the shot had come, from the midst of the Werewolves.

"Ahh, saving the bad guys from each other. My favorite part of being a superhero," Valence said as he swooped in from above and held out his hands, glowing with magnetic energy. He attracted most of the guns from the hands of the criminals below in a single gesture before any more shots could be fired.

The Joker looked up at Valence with a scowl. "Oh no you don't!" he screamed, diving into the passenger side of the Winnebago once again. "You're not interrupting my greatest piece of performance art yet!" When the Joker jumped back out of the vehicle he had several small objects in his hands, which he flung up at Valence.

Valence increased the magnetic charge on the cluster of guns so that they would be impossible to separate, and let them fall to the ground. The objects thrown by the Joker appeared to be action figures from a science-fiction series, flying under their own power. Valence raised his hand to create a magnetic wall in which to snare the figures. The figures passed through unimpeded and a toy with a green bulbous head and silver spacesuit collided fists first with Valence's forehead, then exploded. The blast blinded Valence and threw him completely off balance.

Enigma warped himself down to the roof of the Winnebago, then set up another warp to land Valence gently beside him. As he did that, Karnival, More and Hangfire were charging onto the field. Hangfire was speaking into the sub-audibles: "Everyone, I had my binoculars on the field when the crap hit the fan. Both the shot that took down the Vulture on the truck and the one fired at the Gaucho after the incendiary went off weren't fired by any of the gangbangers. It was the clowns! They've got some kind of trick guns in their big-ass clown shoes, and it looks like they're placed throughout the crowd just to get the gangs to think they're attacking each other."

"Brilliant," Karnival replied, "now let's see if we can calm everybody down a little bit."

"By which I assume you mean knock their punk asses out," More interposed.

"Yeah, pretty much," Karnival agreed.

Hangfire waded in the midst of the increasing gunplay on the field. He extended his forcefield as far to either side of himself as he could, redirecting the bullets to non-lethal trajectories into the empty seats of the stadium. Karnival attacked from a distance, creating illusions of the scantily-clad Saints' cheerleaders, which distracted some of the gangbangers. The cheerleaders opened their mouths wide to reveal gaping sets of fangs and attacked gang members nearest them, who were overwhelmed by the disturbing mental stimulus.

More bounded over the gangs and landed beside the pickup truck, reaching across the passenger side at the driver. The driver pointed his Joker weapon directly at More and fired, knocking More to the ground instantly as he was consumed by flames. Then the driver leaned out the window to fire at the other gang again.

A shimmering red disc appeared directly over the muzzle of the assault weapon and it was drawn out of the driver's grasp, to reappear in Enigma's hands. The attack action figures, having neutralized Valence, were turning their attention on Enigma and flew down at him. Enigma raised the assault weapon and fired at the small flying toys, scoring a perfect shot on the lead action figure, and catching the rest in the resultant fireball. The recoil drove Enigma down to one knee.

The driver of the truck dropped the transmission into drive and began to pull away, when a massive hand grabbed the driver's side door frame and held the truck in place, despite the protests of its engine. More had crawled under the truck and come up on the other side, burned and dirty and extremely displeased. The driver gunned the accelerator but More threw a powerful left cross into the driver's jaw and knocked him across the passenger cabin. The engine of the truck idled as the pressure on the gas pedal went slack.

The clowns had converged back on the Winnebago and were climbing the ladders up to its roof. Enigma held the assault weapon at the ready, although not fully prepared to use it on living targets. The first pair of clowns made it over the top and the toes of their big red shoes snapped open, revealing gun barrels within.

Valence rolled over onto his knees beside Enigma and threw his hands out to the clowns, grabbing the steel gun apparatus in their shoes in his magnetic control. He hoisted the clowns up into the air by their shoe guns, flipping them upside down in the process. The clowns on the ladder soon followed as Valence extended his magnetism's reach, until all six clowns were suspended in midair, magnetically chained together at the shoes. Then Valence drove them all head-first into the field, rendering them quickly unconscious.

Karnival summoned up one gigantic illusion of a towering Grim Reaper that swept a titanic scythe through the ranks of the gangbangers. All the criminals who believed themselves to be caught in its wickedly bladed path fell to the ground unconscious. The few that remained lost interest in the gunfight and turned to run for the stadium exits.

The Joker screamed bloody murder and climbed back into the Winnebago, scrambling to the driver's seat. He turned on the ignition and began wheeling the Winnebago around to face the main doors of the stadium. Valence took to the air, still a little wobbly, and Enigma warped down to the ground as they felt the shuddering of the Winnebago coming around.

"You gonna shoot it?" Valence called down to Enigma.

"Can't!" Enigma responded. "Who knows how many more weapons are loaded in that thing? We could be shooting at a tactical nuke for all we know!"

The Winnebago built up speed as it headed for the exit. Pierce, however, was perched atop the railing above the ramp, and jumped through the air at the huge purple vehicle as it approached. The remainder of the team watched as Pierce landed on the windshield, heard as one gauntleted blow by Pierce shattered the safety glass. Pierce dove into the Winnebago and grappled with the Joker, ultimately bringing the vehicle to a stop. The rest of Bad Blood approached the Winnebago as sounds of struggle came from within. Then the noises ceased, and Pierce came around the side of the Winnebago, carrying the Joker over his shoulder.

"Got her," Pierce announced, laying the body on the ground. It was a young woman with long auburn hair, wearing the purple, orange and green attire of the Joker. She was breathing, but otherwise completely still.

"Who is this?" Hangfire demanded.

"Alias is Blender," Pierce explained, "real name Erica Lavignie. Shapeshifter. Had to hit her with an electro-shock to take her out, and that must have caused her to revert back to her natural form. Like I said, well-talented actor, too. Also happens to be the younger sister of Nina Lavignie, who goes by 'Jalepena Nina.' She's a gang leader in New Orleans, according to the shoddy police records I was able to piece together."

"So you think she was behind this?" Valence asked.

"Probably. I hacked into the police records to see how many different known gangs were involved in the robberies of the past week. Most all of them were accounted for, except Jalapena Nina's. Got me to wondering why not, why they'd want to miss out on Joker's sweet deal. Checked around some more and saw that Blender had recently been paroled from Belle Reve. And maybe big sis had some plans for her on the outside."

"So this was a power play," Karnival mused, "where Nina tried to get some of her local competition to wipe each other out, without anything linking it to her directly. Had her sister pose as the Joker so no one would be suspicious of the motivation - everyone would just assume he's crazy, like we did."

"Basically," Pierce agreed. "Nina figured it wouldn't take much to turn the gangs into packs of wild dogs with a couple of well-placed bullets. 'Joker' could slip away in the confusion, the casualties get heavy all around, and Nina quietly fills in the vacuums left behind. She just didn't count on us interfering."

"So where's Nina now?" More asked.

"Hidden away somewhere, no doubt. Keeping her distance, avoiding any possibility of being linked to this. Though Blender here might sing a different tune when she wakes up."

Four squad cars were eventually dispatched to the Superdome. The attending officers, including Officer Koelemay, found a few of the gangbangers still groggy on the field, as well as six clowns and a young woman dressed in the Joker's clothes handcuffed to the front bumper of the Winnebago. A roll of toilet paper had been unfurled and draped around the shoulders of the cuffed criminals, with a long message written in marker along its length:

Dear Cops, here are the bad guys. You're welcome. There's no more weapons anywhere inside the Winnebago, we checked. Blender only needed one to start this riot. Oh, by the way, be sure to call Belle Reve and tell them Blender has violated parole. You might also want to ask her what her sister Nina is up to these days. - BB

Koelemay read the message and shook his head sadly. "'Dem boys don't know what kinda trouble they be stirrin' up ..."

MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD ... 

Sorry, no letters this month, folks. Got a bit behind in publishing and now I'm playing ctach-up without giving people a chance to send their love/hate mail. But hopefully the letters will return next issue, and if you want your thoughts, commentary, critical analysis, or the ever-popular worshipful haiku included, send mail to BadBlood51@hotmail.com.

NEXT ISSUE: An evil creature hunts down Bad Blood, and trying to figure out who sent it leads to one mystery after another. Plus, some shady bargaining sets events in motion, after which one member of Bad Blood will never be the same!