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 We took our seats, Jack making a point of spilling some of his popcorn over the array of bald heads and immaculately coifed hair dos in front of us. Many of them looked around and glared or tutted. Jack stuck his tongue out at each of them in turn. One of the older more pompous looking men, who we could have sworn was George Burns if we didn’t know better, was incensed.

He turned around; his face an interesting shade of crimson with a vein sticking a good two inches out of his forehead, and launched into a tirade.

"Young people today should be more careful! I did not fight in Nam just so that young people like you could spill your. . ." he stammered in anger, trying to find the right words, "POPCORN all over us war veterans! Have a little respect will you for other theatregoers! What do you have to say to for yourself?"

Up until this point, he had been looking at us (we had been careful to turn so that the Dent side of our face was facing him), but then a hint of confusion crossed his proud features as he noticed we didn’t actually have any Popcorn. We gestured with our good hand to the man sitting next to us. The man turned to look at the real target of his anger. The Joker smiled sweetly and waved delicately with one hand.

"As it happens sir," said Jack, still smiling sweetly, "due to an unfortunate genetic inheritance, that also accounts for my emerald green hair, my hands sometimes shake uncontrollably." He spilled even more Popcorn over the unfortunate Theatregoer to prove his point with an obviously contrived shake. "As you can see, sir," said Jack, his hands still shaking uncontrollably, spilling more and more, "It’s quite a nasty case, one that I’m fairly sensitive about, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make callous and frankly offensive remarks about it!"

A hint of recollection mingled with absolute terror flashed through his victim’s eyes. The man laughed nervously, and turned around again to face the stage, crunching loudly due to all of the Popcorn that he now sat in.

Jack’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows sloped downwards, a small flame dancing in each eye. His mouth thinned and formed a snarl, baring his yellow teeth.

"Excuse me." He said, to the retreating head. "But why do you laugh at me? Do I amuse you? Do you find me amusing? Am I some sort of fucking CLOWN to you or something?"

The deranged clown stood up, throwing his arms wide; his face turned to the skies.

"Why does nobody take me seriously?!" he asked, imploringly.

"For fuck’s sake Jack sit down!" we said, hurriedly yanking him by the shoulder and pushing his back into his seat, wishing the coin had come up differently on the issue of whether or not to bring a seat belt to strap Jack down with.

They were pretty good seats actually - Eddie must have pulled a few strings in the box office on our behalf. We were dead centre in the back row. Normally, this would have been a bad thing, as we wouldn’t have been able to hear Selina very well, but the theatre was small and intimate. Packed to the rafters as well, we thought, staring around cautiously.

Suddenly, we gasped and ducked back down into our seat.

Jack looked around in mock confusion, before peering down at us as we tried desperately to disappear into the fold at the back of the chair. We glared at him, and yanked him towards us by the tie. He yelped.

"Shush!" we said. "Now listen carefully Jack. We think we saw that Plastic Man freak over in the standing section. We have to get the hell outta here. We knew coming here was a bad idea. We can’t believe we let the coin talk us into this…"

Jack of course had stood up to his full height and was craning his neck to try and get a better view.

"Really? Stretch Armstrong is here? Cool! Hey look! Isn’t that Commissar Gordon?"

We followed his outstretched finger with our eyes. Our old friend Jim Gordon sat in the front row, scratching at his neck under his loose fitting tuxedo, looking equally as uncomfortable as we felt.

It struck us at this point that Selina was crossing one hell of a line here. Her performance wasn’t solely for the benefit of the supposed good guys, or the so-called bad guys. She was walking a line here, a tight rope if you will. She had one high-heeled boot firmly planted on both sides of the fence.

We hope the fence of our analogy is a low one.

Our anger was renewed. She was playing a dangerous game here. Interacting with, or at the very least presenting herself as a member of, both sides in the eternal struggle could have dire consequences for both parties. There was a certain amount of brazen cheek in her actions - that was forgivable, brazen cheek being something of a calling card for Selina. The seeming betrayal hurt though. The hypocrisy in our thinking throbbed dully in the back of our mind (we ourselves being perfect examples of someone who has a foot, or in our case an eye, in either camp), but in our angered state we managed to ignore it long enough to not throw the coin. Into Jack’s face.

Jack was feeling around in his breast pocket, sticking his tongue out in concentration, before a triumphant grin passed across his face. He grinned at us as only he can, revealing what he had in his hand.

A straw. He showed us his other hand, the grin growing more and more fiendish.

Small balls of paper. He shoved a ball into his mouth and placed the straw to his lips.

"Bzzz. Houston this is delta bravo, target had been acquired." He said, looking down at the oblivious Gordon. "Bzzz… Roger that delta bravo, release spit balls when ready bzzz.. Roger that Houston, over and out."

We snatched the straw from him and hissed at him to sit down. We also made some fleeting comment about not being able to take him anywhere. He scowled.

"You'd better give us the sling shot while you're at it Jack."

The scowl deepened, but the weapon was handed over without fuss.

We settled back into our seat next to the pouting clown as a hush descended over the audience as the lights dimmed.

"Mr Dent really! I hardly know you!" said a high pitched voice next to us as all went dark. "What?" we said. "Oh for fuck’s sake Jack - just be quiet!" He placed a finger to his pursed lips and indicated the stage to me, on which the gorgeous Selina Kyle had just appeared. We sighed and considered throttling him. We also noticed that he was still wearing that purple trench coat despite the heat. All thoughts of that nature were forgotten however as Selina’s voice filled the theatre and the show began in earnest.