In the heart of Midtown Manhattan, thirty stories above the militarized, barricaded streets of Rockefeller Center, sat the flagship studio of GBN—the Global Broadcasting Network.
Down below, humvees with flashing red-and-blue lights rumbled past closed storefronts as S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical units fruitlessly chased ghost signals. But inside Studio 6B, the air-conditioned warmth smelled of floor wax, warm television lights, and fresh lavender spray.
The studio’s late-night host, Arthur Vance, was shivering behind his polished oak desk, his toupee slightly askew. His executive producer, stage crew, and live studio band were frozen in place, surrounded by a dozen high-tech, remote-controlled turret cameras that had been overridden by [Joker’s Anarchy Ledger].
"G-Good evening, everyone..." Arthur stammered into the camera, his hands shaking so hard his cue cards rustled like autumn leaves. "Tonight... we have a very... special... surprise guest..."
TAP-TAP-TAP.
Stepping out from behind the velvet curtain in a tailored, royal-purple silk suit came Jack. His chalk-white face was immaculately powdered, his bloodshot eyes glowing with an electric crimson spark under the ninety-thousand-watt studio lights. In his right hand, he held a microphone wrapped in gold foil; in his left, a half-eaten candied apple.
Behind him, sitting gracefully on the edge of the guest couch, was Natasha Romanoff in a fitted black suit, casually spinning a suppressed pistol around her index finger like a silver toy. Standing beside the stage entrance, wearing a sparkling silver jumpsuit and leaning against a stolen Stark repulsor turret, was Felicia Hardy.
Through [The Royal Flush Command], the shared neural link hummed with electric precision. Every movement, every camera angle, and every exit vector passed seamlessly between the three of them in total silence.
"Thank you, Artie! Thank you!" Jack shrieked into the mic, taking a deep, dramatic bow toward the empty audience seats as automated applause tracks blared through the studio speakers!
CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!
"Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents glued to your monitors in the Helicarrier!" Jack rasped, his wide, crimson scar-smile filling millions of living room screens across North America. "Welcome to the inaugural episode of... THE MIDNIGHT JOKER SHOW!"
Jack slid smoothly into the guest armchair across from Arthur, resting his leather shoes right on top of the host’s desk.
"Now, Artie," Jack purred, leaning forward with a conspiratorial wink, "I hear Nick Fury put a city-wide curfew on Manhattan tonight. Something about 'containing an unpredictable element.' Tell me... do I look contained to you?!"
Arthur swallowed hard, sweating under his makeup. "N-No... Mr. Jack, sir... you look... very broadcast-ready..."
"RIGHT YOU ARE, ARTIE!" Jack cackled, slamming his fist onto the desk, making the host jump three inches out of his chair.
On the Helicarrier command deck, Nick Fury stood frozen in front of the central holoscreen, his jaw clenched so tight the leather of his eye patch creaked. Beside him, Tony Stark was frantically trying to trace the studio's uplink signal, but Jack’s [Joker’s Reality Distortion] was bouncing the broadcast through sixty-four proxy satellites worldwide.
"He's in Midtown," Captain America said, stepping up beside Fury, his shield strapped to his arm. "Studio 6B. We can be there in four minutes."
"He wants us there, Steve," Fury growled, his voice dropping an octave. "It's a stage. Every second he's on air, he's turning Project Overlord into a joke."
Back in the studio, Jack looked directly into Camera 1, his crimson eyes flashing with absolute, terrifying authority.
"Tonight’s first topic!" Jack announced, holding up a sleek, black remote control with a giant red button in the center. "How much is a city worth when the circus takes over?! In precisely ten minutes, my lovely assistant Felicia will press this button... and unlock every digital bank vault from Wall Street to Jersey City, transferring one penny from every account into Aunt May's Youth Center!"
He turned to Natasha with a theatrical gasp. "Moscow! Is that legal?!"
Natasha offered a slow, breathtaking, lethal smile into Camera 2, raising her gun slightly. "Not even close, Jack."
"I LOVE THIS COUNTRY!" Jack screamed into the microphone, his raspy laughter booming through the studio and echoing across the airwaves of the entire world! "STAY TUNED, FOLKS! WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK AFTER THESE COMMERCIAL BREAKS! HAHAHAHA!"
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