She turns the crank

With a bit of hesitation, Barbara reached out to wrap her gloved fingers around the thick metal pipe that made up the handle of the crank. "Let's see what he's got this time," she muttered to herself. With any luck, this would be a clue to some recent **** or planned attack she's stumbled upon. As she turned the crank, the familiar tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel" began to play, although it was awfully tinny and off-key. This kind of shoddy craftsmanship wasn't something Joker would admit to, so why was this contraption so... half-assed?

As she got closer and closer to the final note, a bead of sweat formed on her forehead under her cowl, running under and wicking off her eyebrow. Her eyes were fixed on the lid, which she could see was being held down by some lock. The only way she could find out what was going on was to play this game. The box finally got to the great big pop, and boy did it...

A small clown puppet sprung up from under the opening door, a big smile on its face with two button eyes staring right up at the vigilante... well, it looked as though it was staring at her tits, but still. Barbara let out a sigh of relief, glad that the box didn't do anything more than give her a little jump. That was until she heard the sound of a burning fuse...