Chapter One:
One Enemy
Out of all the villains Bruce had fought, Joker was the worst. He didn't seem to care whether he lived or died, and certainly didn't care who died during his rampage of chaos. Bruce hated Joker. He hated everything about the twisted clown. His greasy, unkempt hair, the purple suit stained red, both literally and figuratively, the psychotic laugh that made lesser men freeze, and want to curl up under a blanket. Bruce hated Joker's eyes the most though. Eyes more terrifying than that sick laugh. Eyes that burned with hatred, burned with insanity, eyes that revealed how far the Joker was lost in his own mind. Bruce hated Jokers eyes, because they reminded him of himself.
Joker's eyes reminded Bruce of his daily struggle with sanity, with trying to keep all that he knew in one piece. Trying to hold on to that last shred of humanity, because, maybe, deep down, he was already as insane as the Clown Prince. So when Bruce put on the mask and fought as the caped crusader, he wasn't fighting the Joker. He was fighting himself. He was fighting his own dive into the very madness that took a physical body and a name: Joker.
Bruce only had one enemy, and while he continued to fight for Gotham as the Batman, it would be himself, and his own loosening grip on humanity. Because if he didn't fight his own madness, who would?
Hi everyone. Welcome to this humble little story called "Numbers." These are little pieces revealing what may have gone on in Bruce Wayne's mind during The Dark Knight. I was inspired the other day in class, after thinking about the movie, and started writing. This chapter is short, but the chapters will get progressively longer as the numbers go higher. Next Chapter: Two Masks, should be up in a few hours. If not sooner. Let me know what you think. Faves and constructive criticism are love, flames are used to roast marshmallows. I won't read them. Thanks, Shiro