Chapter 4: Clowns and Magicians.

Gotham was a playground.

A filthy, rotting, crime-infested playground, but that only made it more delightful.

Hisoka had long since lost interest in the Penguin. The chase was fun for a moment, but the thrill had faded. The man wasn't even putting up a fight anymore, and if there was one thing Hisoka hated—it was dull prey.

So he turned his attention elsewhere.

The city was teeming with life. Criminals, gangsters, assassins, vigilantes—it was a buffet of entertainment. He walked the streets, slipping in and out of Gotham's underworld, seeking something worth his time.

He started with the bottom feeders, the grunts and thugs who lurked in the alleys, hoping to prey on the weak. No Nen. No technique. Just desperate men swinging knives and firing guns like it meant something.

They were dull, but they made for good practice.

Hisoka could feel it—his Nen, his body, his instincts—they were returning.

The more he fought, the more he adapted. His aura pulsed stronger now, the familiar hum of power beginning to fill his veins again. His strength was growing, his reflexes sharpening. It was intoxicating.

He ran a finger along the edge of a playing card, smiling as he flicked it toward an unsuspecting thug. The card whistled through the air before embedding itself deep into the man's throat.

The thug's eyes bulged as he staggered back, gurgling, hands clawing at his neck. Blood dripped from his fingers as he collapsed onto the pavement.

Hisoka sighed in pleasure.

"Yes… it's coming back to me."

But he needed more.

And then, as if the city itself had decided to amuse him, he overheard an interesting little conversation.

"Penguin's back?" a voice muttered from a nearby alley.

"No way, I thought he skipped town."

"Nah, heard he's holed up in that old fish market. Laying low, regrouping."

Hisoka smirked.

A trap.

How delicious.

...

As he wandered Gotham, Hisoka kept his ears open. The more he played, the more names he heard whispered in the dark—spoken with fear, respect, or hatred.

This city had its own monsters.

The Joker.

That name came up the most. A lunatic. A killer. A clown draped in chaos. Some said he had no plan, that he acted on pure madness. Others believed he was the only one with a plan—turning Gotham into his personal stage for destruction.

Hisoka licked his lips.

A fellow performer, hmm?

Two-Face.

A man split in half—literally and mentally. He played by a simple, childlike rule: flip a coin, live or die. Hisoka chuckled. What an adorable little game.

Killer Croc.

A beast lurking beneath the city, feeding on those who wandered into his domain. A brute with inhuman strength. Hisoka tilted his head. Primitive, but… possibly entertaining? He'd love to see if that monstrous power could withstand Bungee Gum.

Scarecrow.

A man obsessed with fear, using chemicals to twist people's minds into nightmares. Hisoka grinned. Fear was delicious, but it had to be earned.

And then, of course…

The Batman

A ghost that haunted Gotham's streets. A predator who struck from the shadows. A man who refused to kill.

Hisoka's curiosity burned.

A fighter with rules? How strange. How boring—or perhaps, how entertaining.

"I'll have to meet this 'Batman' soon… see if he's worth playing with."

But first, he had a trap to walk into.

...

Harley Quinn had been following the new player in Gotham.

She hadn't told Mistah J. Not yet. He wouldn't get it. See, Joker was the king of crazy, but this guy? This guy was something else.

She had found the bodies first.

The work was… artistic. Messy, but precise. No guns. No bombs. Just… cards? Some had clean slashes across their throats. Others had been arranged.

She giggled at one particularly creative display—a goon strung up like a marionette from a fire escape, suspended by some weird, pinkish goo.

"Whoever ya are, ya sure know how to have fun."

She trailed him, watching him weave through Gotham's underworld, leaving a path of chaos behind. When she overheard the whispers about Penguin's hideout, she knew exactly where he was headed.

And she had to see what happened next.

...

The old fish market stank of rot and stale water.

Hisoka barely noticed.

The moment he stepped inside, he knew.

This wasn't the Penguin's doing.

The men waiting inside were different. They didn't wear Penguin's colors. Their posture, their weapons—disciplined.

"Oh?" Hisoka muttered, intrigued.

He sighed theatrically, raising his hands in surrender as the guards surrounded him.

"Well, well," a voice rang out, high-pitched and theatrical. "What do we have here? Some kinda lost magician?"

The Joker stepped out of the shadows, his manic grin stretching impossibly far.

Hisoka smirked.

He liked this one already.

...

Joker circled him like a predator, eyes flickering with curiosity.

"Hmmm… What circus did ya crawl out of? I didn't see ya in Arkham, never heard a peep about ya, and I hear everything!"

From her hiding spot, Harley leaned forward, breath caught in her throat.

The guy wasn't even flinching.

Hisoka tilted his head, a lazy smile forming. "Who runs this city?"

Joker blinked, then let out a sharp laugh. "Oh-ho! You're a funny one. Who runs this city? Me, of course!" He spread his arms wide. "Who else?"

Hisoka smirked. "And what do you do?"

Joker's grin twitched.

"Magic tricks," Joker mused. "I once made a pencil disappear. I even made the fish laugh once, can you believe that?"

Hisoka chuckled. He rolled his wrists. The cuffs snapped open like they were not even closed.

"Oh? Interesting… Wanna see a magic trick?"

And before he could answer.. The guard behind the Joker let out a strangled cry. Hisoka didn't even move a muscle—Bungee Gum had already done its work. The man's skull caved in with a sickening crack.

Silence.

Joker's grin flickered. Looking at the guard who got warped in an anatomically impossible way. He quickly looked back at Hisoka

Hisoka stretched, sighing in satisfaction. "Well, this has been fun, but I think I'll be going now. Oh an by the way, the name is Hisoka Morow."

Before anyone could react, he shot his hand upward—Bungee Gum latching onto a ceiling beam.

With a single yank, he soared.

Harley gasped as a card flicked through the air, landing right at her feet.

Then he was gone.

...

Joker stood still, his fingers twitching. His face—usually so animated—was blank.

Then, a sound.

A giggle.

Joker turned sharply.

Harley was staring at the card.

"He's like you," she whispered.

Joker's eye twitched. "What?"

Harley picked up the card, running a finger over its smooth surface.

"He's like you, Puddin'… but better."

Joker's smile vanished. Then, without warning, he laughed.

A deep, ugly, humorless laugh.

"Better?" He sneered. "Oh, sweet cheeks, I think you need a little reminder of just who runs this city."

But Harley wasn't listening.

She turned the card over in her hands, biting her lip.

"Who are you, Mr. Morrow?"

She needed to see him again.