Moving the World

"Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world." ~~Archimedes

Tall, pain fully thin and yet somehow magnetic and elegant, the young man paced up and down in front of his associates, a look of total disgust mixed with smug condescension on his face. One green eye and one blue eye scanned the rag tag crew and he snorted. His shoulder length black hair was loose and straight, leaving the impression of a clean-cut computer geek in his perfectly tailored pin-striped suit.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice perfectly pitched to draw their absolute attention. "I have called you here to discuss the present situation with the Bat." A rumble of swearing and curses sprang up and he allowed them their moment of unsettled grumbles before he held up a hand that silenced them. "It has been a long time since my father," he cast a look behind him at the glass coffin that held the perfectly preserved remains of the Joker, "was martyred to our cause. Too long to leave his death unavenged."

Another round of grunting agreement met his words. Again, he let them have their say before he continued. "We are at a distinct disadvantage, we all know it. The Bat knows who we are, our profiles and what our next moves will be. He knows us, gentlemen, and yet we are still ignorant of who he is." His _expression_ took on an almost euphoric gaze as he added, "He has the key to his own destruction!"

Jonathan Crane blinked, his brow furrowing as he raised a hand carefully. "Excuse me but I do believe I've missed something. He holds the key?"

The young man grinned wildly, for a brief moment looking exactly like his father as he let out the signature cackle of the Joker. "He does! He believes he knows us. He believes we don't know him."

"We don't," Jonathan added tentatively.

"True," he conceded. "He knows your name, does he not?"

"Yes..."

"And you, Riddler, he knows Edward Nigma?"

The man in green nodded, his arms folded as he stared at the kid. The only reason he was even there was because he felt he owed the boy's old man something for saving his ass so many times.

"And Two Face and Poison Ivy and Ice Man..." The young man clapped his hands together with a wild laugh. "And my father?" His strange eyes met each pair of supervillans' in the room but most found it hard to hold that wild, crazy stare. No one knew who the Joker was, no one remembered a time when the grim mocking clown had been a man without make-up. He was nameless and faceless, simply the Joker. "No?"

"Jack Napier," a voice purred from the doorway behind the gathered group.

Turning to smile at the female jester, he raised his hand to his mother and nodded. "Jack Napier." Once their hands were clasped, he said in a much softer voice, "Feeling better, mother?"

Harlequin smiled faintly at her son. Her face was pale under her make up and her hands shook if she didn't hold her son's. "Better. Have you told them?"

"Not yet." Grinning wickedly, he kept his mother's hands as he turned back to the congregation of Gothem's most notorious men and women. "The Bat doesn't know who Jack Napier was. He certainly doesn't know who Felix Napier is. I am nameless to him. We have a secret, gentlemen, we have our lever, now all we need do is shift his world from its axis."