[Let me know if this doesn't work for you!]

Some things are inevitable; some things are destined. Some things are just plain bad luck. Like when Dick Grayson is standing in line at the bank in the middle of the afternoon, and the Joker chooses that bank and that moment to bust through the door with his men.

He puts a bullet through the head of the guard first thing, and the sound explodes through the space, echoing off walls and amplifying against tile. As it fads, the screams begin; but the Joker had already leapt onto a nearby desk as 10 henchmen spread out, weapons drawn, starting to heard employees and customers together.

"GOOD AFTERNOON, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!" It was a bellow, to cut through the bleating of his audience. He spreads his arms wide, beaming ear to ear. "I am SO sorry to interrupt your busy busy busy day pushing papers and idiots from desk to desk- but here we are! Now let's all just let my boys do what they came to do, nice and easy, and this needn't take long at all. Oh and tellers! Bankspeople!" The absurdly large revolver swung in the direction of the front counter. "Don't touch those dials! Or those secret little tattle-tale buttons; because if I hear even a hint of sirens, it'll be the end of poor-"

He stops then, looking down at the crowd below him; and the gun slowly swung to aim at Dick's head. "This poor young lad."

In a trice, the Joker has jumped back down; has an arm around Dick's shoulders and the gun to his head. "Hey there kiddo! So sorry to ruin your day. Got a name, sonny-boy?"