INT. CONFERENCE ROOM, HOTEL

From the back of the room comes laughter. It grows and grows, until it fills the room. All eyes turn:

The Joker. Sweaty clown makeup obscuring the awful scars which widen his mouth into a permanent, ghoulish smile.

JOKER: And I thought my jokes were bad.

GAMBOL: Give me one reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off.

The Joker pulls out a freshly sharpened pencil.

JOKER: How about a magic trick?

The Joker slams the pencil into the table, leaving it upright.

JOKER: I'm gonna make this pencil disappear.

Gambol nods. His bodyguard moves at the Joker- who sidesteps-grips his head- slams it, face down, onto the table...The Bodyguard goes limp and slides off of the table. The pencil is gone. Magic. The Joker bows. Grins at Gambol.

JOKER: Ta-dah! It's, it's gone.

JOKER: Oh, and by they way: the suit? It wasn't cheap. You oughta know, you bought it.

Gambol stands, furious. The Chechen stops him.
CHECHEN: Sit. I want to hear proposition.

The Joker nods his thanks. Rises.

JOKER: Let's wind the clocks back a year. These cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you. I mean, what happened? Did your balls drop off? You see a guy like me--

GAMBOL: --a freak--

Laughs. Which the Joker tries to ignore.

JOKER: --a guy like me... Look. Listen. I know why you choose to hold your little, ahem, "group therapy sessions" in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night. The Batman. See, Batman has shown Gotham your true colors, unfortunately.

Dent? He's just the beginning. And as for the television's so called plan? Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him and make him squeal! I know the squealers when I see them and...

CHECHEN: What do you propose?

JOKER: It's simple. We, uh, kill the Batman.

Jeers. Laughter.

MARONI: If it's so simple why haven't you done it already?

JOKER: If you're good at something never do it for free.

CHECHEN: How much you want?
JOKER: Uh, half.

CHECHEN: You're crazy.

JOKER: I'm not. No I'm not. If we don't deal with this now, soon, uh, little Gambol here won't be able to get a nickel for his grandma.

GAMBOL: Enough from the clown!

Gambol gets up, moving at the Joker, who casually opens his coat, revealing explosives wired to his chest. Gambol stops.

JOKER: Ah ta ta ta ta. Let's not "blow" this out of proportion.

Gambol stares at the Joker. Hard.

GAMBOL: You think you can steal from us and just walk away?

JOKER: Yeah.

GAMBOL: I'm putting the word out. $500 grand for this clown dead. A million alive so I can teach him some manners first.

JOKER: All right, so listen. Why don't you give me a call when you wanna take things a little more seriously. Here's my card.