of a humorist... and it's up to you to track down an old injustice... by him

"Fuuuuuuuuccckk!" Your own words sound like the slowed-down cry of a hero in an action movie as you yank the wheel to the side and throw the car door open. Bones gives a wordless cry of angry disbelief that climbs in pitch until it's a shriek of alarm, not because of your partner plunging towards the ground from a terrifying height but because you just jumped out of the driver's seat of a moving vehicle that you'd thrown into a hard turn with it aimed right at a storefront. Your ears pick up the resulting crash and shattering of glass with excruciating detail but your only thoughts are on bounding towards your falling mentor as quickly as possible.

Thanks to your incredible reflexes, you're suddenly looking almost straight up at the bulky veteran vigilante plunging towards you, arms flailing. He can't see you, as he's falling face-up with his arms spread wide. You have a split second to act. It is too late to jump (which, if you were to have time to consider, you would realize wouldn't do him any good anyway). The one and only thing you can do is get underneath him and let your own body break his fall.

There's a wet thud and a horrible crunch that makes you wish your hearing wasn't so good. You didn't do it. It was him or you, and before you even thought about it more than a tenth of a second you decided it was going to be him. Jokester has landed right on the steps of a statue of Maiden America posing in bronze with her arms at her sides and her head turned to the side vigilantly. And they are *large* steps. His upper back is bent at an angle it shouldn't be and his legs are twitching randomly as he sputters and coughs up blood.

"Hang in there! Jokester!" Damn that stupid name - you wish you knew the man better, at a time like this. "Let me get the League, they'll have someone who can-"

"Don't... bother... I'd just get finished off with a... unhkkk... pillow..." he spits. "Somebody... in black... black suit. Super... strong." He squeezes his eye shut and tries to smile. "I ain't mad. The brick-kkhh khh khh," he coughs, "has gotta come down sooner or later. Tell Bones... I toldya so I'd get outta that one I owed her. Hey... but listen. This is important..."

"You..." you try to stop from **** up and think of your training. "You want me to find out who did it and fuck 'em right up, is that correct, sir?"

"Oh, sure," he says as lightly as he can given his current plight, "but... something more important. The files..." he shakes his arm and you see a metal attache case landed a few feet away from him. "You gotta get the files... Listen, there's a tattoo on my ass..."

"Please sir," you feel a swelling in your throat, appreciating how he's trying to joke to put you at ease even in a situation like this, "don't talk, I can get you to a street doctor-"

"NO! The joke... is that it ain't a joke... the number down there... secret Swiss account... money." his voice is rapidly growing more distant now. "Find... in the files... find 'er in there and give it all to her. Oh Hell... I hope it was a heroine and not a villainess or else this was all pointless... but, aaccckkkk, tell her I'm sorry I was, hnnnhhh, a bad joke."

"Tell who...?"

Jokester struggles to laugh which looks painful, but his smile doesn't disappear. "Mother... fucking... Teresa. You dumb... bitch. I mean... " he grits his teeth, his chest no longer rising and falling. "My daughter..."

You open your mouth, shocked. "But- just... tell me her name!"

"'was what I came here," he pauses for a very long time and snaps his eye open. "to find out. So, you do that.... 'kay, bunny? Unhh... there were some crazy moments so you gotta watch to the end, see if I show up in any of them... Might even be at the post interviews..."

"Sure, yes, I promise!" you blurt out even though you aren't quite sure what he's talking about. "And you promise me that-"

He interrupts you by rolling his head in your direction and baring his teeth. "gonna be on you in seconds, so make like a tree and..." he slumps back.

The first shout to stop from the periphery of your hearing snaps you back to reality. Grabbing up the metal attache case you jump with all the power you can manage.

But not before you roll your would-have-been mentor and the vigilante who you've always considered the final definition of badass onto his side, pull down his pants in the rear, and get a good long look at his... ass. Of course. Of course the code would be written inside a heart.