A/N: Oh, after the Dark Knight movie, I'm sure many authors couldn't resist writing something about the Joker. Myself, included. I didn't think I would actually put this up, but what the heck, I'm on a roll. I did a lot of homework on the Batman universe too! I'm kind of a perfectionist that way. This is movie-verse so plenty of stolen movie scenes galore! :) And I have no idea which genre to put this story under. I'm tempted to put Romance but there's hardly any unless you count one-sided subconscious love as Romance... I'm quite adamant that the Joker can't fall in love! Been reading Arkham Asylum: A Serious House On A Serious Earth, The Killing Joke and Black Orchid too much. I love the graphic novels by Dave McKean. Pretty. Alright, enough of my drivel. Let's get this story on!

Disclaimer: All characters and plots from the world of Batman belongs to its respective owners. The Original Character and the plot of this story, however, I have custody holds of! :D

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Tainted Purple

Prologue

The bank was silent, save for the shuffling of footsteps and papers. The occasional tapping of the keyboard punctuated the still building. A young woman dropped her pen onto the tiled floor, resulting in a loud clattering noise that was magnified a hundred times in the stillness. She tucked a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear and bent down to retrieve it.

I believe that there is always a calm before the storm…

A man stood by the side of the road, a heavy bag slung over his hunched shoulder and a clown mask in one hand. The afternoon sun beat down on his back. All around him, people went about their business, so typically unaware. He waited, waited for the screech of tires approaching. Waited for his moment to put on the mask and dance to a tune that only he sang.

I believe that everyone is capable of doing things…

The door to the bank slammed open. The people inside turned their heads sharply to inspect the alarming intrusion, only to be greeted with the sound of a gun being shot into the ceiling and a nightmare come true. The result ended in scattered documents and several screams.

"Alright everybody! Hands up! Get down!" the masked men yelled, brandishing their weapons around the terrified faces that obeyed their command.

The criminal clowns began grabbing people and handing out grenades, telling them to hold onto them as if their life depended on it. Which it did, anyway.

Many things…

One of the tellers tried to make his way towards the button underneath his table. It was a vain attempt; the whole area was secured by the robbers. Inevitably, he was noticed. And stopped. With a bullet through his head, naturally. Blood splattered the floor beneath him.

Terrible things…

Having secured the area, one of the men headed towards the back to get the cash. Suddenly, amongst the havoc and the constant reminders of staying on the ground, a loud bang sounded, almost like an explosion, followed by glass breaking. The clown who had just kicked the security guard over a table fell forwards to the floor. He landed on top of a woman, who gasped, more in disgust than anything. She jerked her hand up and jabbed her pen into the man's chest. That, however, was useless since the man was already dead anyway. She pushed him off her and scrambled away from the man with the gun who began shooting at another clown that was dashing away from him.

"You idiots! You have any idea who you're stealing from? You're dead!" he was yelling.

The clown managed to duck behind a desk. The brunette continued crawling along her belly very slowly towards a safer area. Maybe, she thought, she could find somewhere to hide. But oh, oops, she stopped. She was now just behind the criminals. Bad move, she told herself and began inching away again.

"He's out, right?" she heard one of them whisper.

The other guy must have nodded because he stood up and tried to shoot at the bank-manager-slash-mob-member. Lucky for the clown, he managed to duck out of the way as the mob guy fired a shot at him. The mob guy was, apparently, very bad at shots. Another clown jumped up and shot him in the knee, effectively putting him out of action and dropping his gun.

"Where did you learn to count?" the other clown yelled angrily as he got up.

He then headed towards the back of the bank and there was a loud shot. After that, the remaining two clowns hauled out about six bags loaded with money into the main area of the bank.

"That's a lotta money," one of them said. "If this Joker guy's so smart, he'd had have us bring a bigger car."

He began loading his gun. The other clown paused and turned around slowly.

"I'm bettin' the Joker told you to kill me as soon as we loaded the cash," he said, nodding his head at him while aiming his gun.

The other clown held up his hand to look at his watch and let out a loud sigh.

The question is…

"No, no, no, no, no," he said, his voice a silky, dangerous tone. "I kill the bus driver."

"Bus driver?" the first clown asked, incredulously. "What bus driver?"

As if on cue, a bus suddenly crashed into the side of the building and rammed into him. The second clown backed up from the bus, throwing a side-glance at the now unconscious, more like dead clown. Another clown-masked robber jumped out of the big yellow bus.

"School's out! Time to go!" he laughed, looking down at the dead clown. "He's not getting up, is he?"

The other clown began throwing the bags of money at him to load into the bus.

"That's a lotta money," he said. "What happened to the rest of the guys?"

As soon as the question left his mouth, he was shot dead in the chest. The last, remaining clown looked around for the last bag, which happened to be next to the brunette, who was getting really sick of lying on the filthy floor. He stopped in front of her and she looked up. He bent down, his dark eyes staring at her intently. The funny thing is… it wasn't because of her beauty that struck him. She wasn't that much of a looker anyway, positively average. And it wasn't because she held no fear in her eyes as she stared back. No, the first thing he noticed about her were her nails. They were long and painted purple. A deep, amethyst purple that looked positively wicked when compared to her pale skin.

"Think you're smart, huh?" the mobster guy exclaimed. "Those hired guys you used? They'll do the same to you. They're all cruel and don't believe in things… honour, respect! Look at you! What do you believe in?"

The clown turned to him and slowly stood up. He began walking towards him, grabbing something from his coat.

"What do you believe in?!" the mobster yelled just as the clown shoved some kind of grenade into his mouth.

"I believe… that whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you… stranger," he said, taking off his mask to reveal his face.

Or, what could be considered his face. It was painted in white, his eyes were smeared black so they looked like two gaping holes. His lips were painted red as well, and the red paint extended on both sides to resemble a permanent grin, covering the cruel disfiguring scars on either side of his lips. The mobster looked up at him in terror. It was probably then that he realized exactly who was messing with him and his mob's bank.

"Huh," the scarred man looked to the side at the woman who was staring at him with wide eyes.

Again, they weren't eyes drowned in fear. No, they reflected curiosity. He grinned, a truly compellingly disturbing image of the highest degree.

"Come here," he walked towards her and pulled her up, shoving a gun in her hands.

She blinked at him, confused.

"Kill him," he pointed.

The mobster paled.

"Go on, kill him," he said, somehow managing to acquire a knife out of thin air. "Or I'll carve your pretty doll face."

She raised an eyebrow. Again, there was no fear. He wondered why that was. Why, this seemingly ordinary girl did not feel frightened at all. Unlike the pathetic dog at their feet. He pressed the knife to her neck, holding her tightly. She wasn't even shaking…

"Go on," he coaxed, making her hands grip the gun and holding them up to point at the man's head. "Shoot him. Kill him, like the dog he is, whimpering for his life."

She flexed her fingers indecisively. Her eyes held no revulsion, no terror, but pure, unabashed indifference. Again, he noticed her long purple fingernails. He liked her fingernails, he thought. The mobster, apparently, seemed to recognize the woman in front of him. He began making noises and backed away. The Joker cocked his head to the side, hearing the faint noise of a siren.

"Time to go, pick up that bag for me, darling," he pushed the woman over to the bag. "And get in the bus."

She grunted unhappily and hurried to pick up the bag anyway. He walked towards the bus, a long string trailing after him. Said string happened to be attached to the grenade in the mobster's mouth. His eyes widened some more. The woman dumped the bag in the bus and jumped in after the Joker. The doors closed and the bus drove off. Through the glass, she could see the pin pop out. Then, in what felt like the worst anticlimax ever, yellow smoke hissed out. But she chuckled at the look of the man's face.

But the question is; Do you want to do it?