182 It's Just a Joke #182

Commissioner Gordon froze as he watched Barbara step back and fall on the glass coffee table right before his eyes, breaking it upon impact. However, the Joker's loud, maniacal laughter seemed to snap him out of it.

"Barbara!" The commissioner exclaimed as he hurried to the ground to check on his daughter, who shakily reached to clutch her lower abdomen, bleeding all over the floor.

"I wouldn't worry yet if I were you..." The Joker said, his grin ever present as he slowly walked into the apartment, followed by two muscular men in casual streetwear.

"It's just a psychological manifestation... common among librarians..." the mirthful clown went on as he stopped behind the commissioner, giving the shaky Barbara an inspecting look.

"She thinks she's the coffee book edition..." he continued, letting out a slight chuckle, unmindful of the lack of reaction to his joke as he kept speaking.

"Though I can't say much for this volume... I mean, look at it! There's a hole in the jacket...! And the spine appears to be damaged..." The Joker remarked as he looked at Barbra like a book appraiser would look at his merchandise.

"You scum! I'll--" The commissioner exclaimed as he rose to his feet, gripping a scissor from the ground. He lunged at the Joker with fury in his eyes. However, the clown's two companions stopped him before he could finish his sentence.

"Will you now...? Refreshing to hear, surprisingly not by the book of you, commissioner..." The Joker said without bothering to look at the commissioner as the two goons took him out of the way and started pounding him.

"And speaking of which..." The deranged clown said as he leisurely stepped forward and stood over Barbra, who could do nothing but helplessly grit her teeth to endure the pain.

"This one won't be walking off the shelf any time soon..." he added, clearly amused as he chuckled, unmindful of the loud thuds as his goons continued to beat the commissioner to a pulp.

"In fact, the idea of her walking anywhere seems remote..." The Joker said as he got on one knee, still looking down on Barbra. "Then again, that's always a problem with softbacks..."

"Oh god...! Literary discussions can get so dry, don't they...?" The clown remarked, clicking his tongue in annoyance as he swiped a droplet of blood with his finger and flicked it away.

"Finish the commissioner, take him where he needs to be, and please do be careful... after all, he is topping the bill..." he went on, prompting the two thugs to stop toying with the commissioner as they knocked him out and carried him away.

"It really is a shame you'll miss your father's debut, Miss Gordon..." the mirthful clown said with a sigh as he wiped a tear from the edge of Barbara's left eye.

"Sadly, our venue wasn't built with the disabled in mind..." he added, raising his hand and hovering it over Barbra's face, his smile widening as she began sobbing.

"Why... are... you... doing this...?" Barbra asked through labored breaths and grunts of pain. Her eyes closed shut as the Joker slowly moved his hand towards her shirt.

She had a sneaking suspicion that The Joker had somehow discovered her identity as Batgirl and was targeting her to get to Batman, but she needed to know for sure.

"To prove a point, my dear..." The Joker said as he began unbuttoning her shirt, starting from the top. "You see... your father is going to have a bad day..." he went on as he removed her shirt without showing any hint of lust or desire.

"A terrible day, and this... this is just the start..." the mirthful clown said as he moved on to the rest of Barbra's clothing, stripping her naked before standing up and taking a step back.

Barbara felt her world crashing down at the Joker's words as she realized the clown's motives. He wasn't targeting her because he knew about her secret identity.

All that fear, anguish, and anxiety she suffered as Batgirl, fighting for her life every time she went out while doing her best to keep it a secret, had nothing to do with what was happening at the moment.

The Joker wasn't targeting her because she was Batgirl, but because she was Barbara Gordon.

Somehow, the realization only made the situation worse.

"Now, turn that frown upside down and smile for the camera, my dear..."

...

Gray's hideout

"Well... that was a day and a half..." I muttered with a sigh as I plopped into my couch, retrieving a random cold drink from my inventory which I promptly emptied in a single gulp.

I'd already visited Lady Vic, and she, like the other two, was still on board with the plan. I knew she would be since she only ever worked for money to keep her ancestral state afloat, but I still needed to be sure.

Luckily, I didn't need to sneak into Blackgate's female inmates' section as the warden had heard about what happened in the asylum and agreed to let me see Lady Vic as a favor when I asked.

So to put things in perspective, I beat up a bunch of mentally ill people, a demon. Then another bunch of mentally ill people, another demon/ghost, singlehandedly recovered control over a lunatic asylum and ran a bunch of errands, all in one day.

And I still had shit to do before the day was over. I've been talking about creating a company for some time now, and I figured now would be the right time to prepare and plan.

"Let's see..." I muttered as I activated my Personal Computer power and brought up all information about starting a company I could find, including online guidelines and any related claws in the constitution.

"So... decide on a structural classification, and apply for an Employer Identification Number from the IRS..." I remarked as I retrieved a paper and a pen from my inventory and started writing the steps.

"And finally, open a separate bank account for the business..." I concluded as I wrote the last step before returning to the first.

Regarding structural classification, there were two options; Limited liability company, LLC for short, which was the least complicated and restrictive option.

Then there was the S corp classification, which was much more complex to create and came with many restrictions, such as not being owned by non-American organizations and individuals.

Ultimately, it all boils down to the safest option regarding financial liability and sharing the burden between multiple people, which was definitely the S corp.

But I couldn't really be bothered to care about that because I had a shit ton of ways to make money, and I had no intention of giving away half my profits to the government.

Let me give you all a little lesson about tax evasion. The IRS legally can not tax any company owned (partially or fully) by someone who is not a resident of the United States because those taxes belong to the owner's country.

In other words, if you are a resident of a country with a 1% corporate tax rate, that's all you need to pay. However, like most things that sound too good to be true, there is a catch.

You are exempt from taxes if you don't do business or trade in the United States. But how will I ever make money if I can't do business or trading, one might ask.

The answer is simple; I don't have to do business and trade to make a profit, not personally, anyway. For your company to be considered doing business, it must meet one legal criterion.

And that is, having a dependant agent, as in an employee who exclusively works for you to further your business, doing tasks such as making sale calls and whatnot.

Going around the issue is as simple as delegating that work to independent agents, such as freelancers and other companies, who would provide me with a service and not directly work for me.

I'd still need employees to perform administrative tasks in the company once it gets to a certain level, but that sort of work doesn't fall under furthering the business according to US law.

It made no sense, and whoever wrote those laws was as dumb as they came, but I didn't care as long as it meant I wouldn't have to share my hard-earned money with a bunch of corrupt geezers instead of using it to do something useful.

There were other methods, but this was the simplest and quickest, considering my abilities, so the choice was clear.

"Then we have the Employer Identification Number from the IRS..."

...

The Batcave

Bruce stopped working as the communication device in his pocket began buzzing and glowing red, signaling an emergency. He stopped his work and picked up the device.

The caped crusader hesitated for a second before he put away the device and resumed working.

...

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