This fanfiction is something you can call miscellaneous Batman-related things. It's just a random collection of poems, short stories, drabbles and whatnots that oftentimes won't relate to each other and are their own thing. This first piece of writing is what I thought would make a good prologue to the start of a Joker fanfic. I had this vivid idea in my head and just wrote it all down, caught up in a moment of passion.

Enjoy!

Prologue

The sirens of police cars were wailing in the distance, the noise reaching every ear within a one mile radius. Most of those who heard were awakened from their sleep and fear encompassed their hearts, making them wonder if the situation was serious enough to turn the television on at two o'clock in the morning. Nothing apart from this was making a disturbance in the heart of Gotham city. If it wasn't for the fact that criminals were always lurking about, the mood would feel much different. On a night without the sirens, you would notice how still the air was, and how it'd be so silent you could hear a pin drop.

But tonight was not such a night.

The clear sky allowed the bright light of a half-full moon to reveal the events unfolding below. The police cars were speeding through the streets of the city, making sharp turns that provoked unpleasant screeching sounds, trying not to lose sight of their target. The stolen car they were pursuing was an insidiously black color, making it harder to make out from its already-dark surroundings.

Although the chasers had their guns loaded and gripped tightly in one of their hands or sitting safely in their holsters, they knew it would be pointless to shoot now. The escaping man was driving far too recklessly and speedily to allow them a good shot. Usually, such recklessness was not something they had to deal with, but the driver of that car was anything but usual.

His gloved hands grasped the wheel with such strong force it could've broken a human hand. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Excitement. He could barely contain his joy as he veered the car in all directions, not knowing where he was going. Not caring. Why should he? Stuff like this was always much more fun when it was...unpredictable. And a game of cat and mouse with the cops was something he enjoyed doing, wanting to see how long they would keep going until they realized they couldn't catch him. Knowing they were too blind to see that men like him couldn't be stopped. No matter how many times they cuffed his hands or locked him up behind their iron bars or tried to make him follow their rules. Least of all their rules…

That was the sad thing about this world.

Speaking of rules…

He saw a bright yellow police tape stretched from one side of the street to the other up ahead. As the car came closer, he could see it was tied to two adjacent street lamps. Where any normal person would immediately step on the breaks, he just kept going. When he was only a couple of yards from the closed-in region, he could just make out the writing in dark, capital letters on the thin, shiny plastic: "DO NOT ENTER."

Hysterical laughter erupted from the man's mouth as he read the words and a split-second later, the vehicle broke through the tape like someone who just finished a marathon. The same kind of euphoria the marathon winner would feel overcame the driver. Giggling, he said, "Whoops!"

The road became bumpy now. In fact, there seemed to be no solid road at all. He was in the middle of a construction site and the car jumped and skidded as well as managed to knock down several orange cones in the way. The police cars behind followed despite facing the same obstacles.

The car thief had bumped his head against the car top a few times now, but ignored the pain. In fact, he welcomed it. The way his vision slightly blurred was thrilling- he couldn't even see where he was going. If he had a few more scars to be put on display, then so be it. But no other scars could possibly steal more attention that the ones proudly displayed on his face. A long Glasgow smile stretched from one cheek to the other in an uneven, jagged manner. His tongue quickly swiped at it now, feeling its texture and tasting the blood red lipstick that accented it. It gave the illusion that the scars were still bleeding and raw. He liked it.

The lipstick was not the only part of his face's cosmetic complexion. His already-dark brown eyes were surrounded by uneven, black circles that stretched to the temples. Both colors sat on a whole layer of chalk-white warpaint, although it sometimes blended together with the other colors. Every wrinkle of his skin resembled a crack in the pavement, and if he did not reapply it after a few good hours, it would begin to fade and reveal the real color of the skin on his face to match that of his neck, where the makeup stopped.

His hair was another thing. The wavy strands were separated and greasy, partially because they were often unwashed, and partially because they were practically covered in the toxic chemicals of a dark green hairspray. The length was just above the shoulders, broad shoulders that were often hunched and carried the weight of a dark purple trench coat that made the clown-resembled attire all the more so. It was long, and if the man was standing, it would reach just below the calves.

This is one of the reason's he was memorable. No one could forget such a get-up. Some shuddered when they thought of it, some were in awe, and some just though it was ridiculous. But he didn't care. He stood out from the rest of the world. He wasn't like them, the "ordinary" people. He understood things. They though he was trying to gain power. They though he was crazy. A monster. But he wasn't any of those things. All he wanted was to send a message, to make them understand that you can't control people. It was in a human's nature to corrupt and be corrupted. And eventually, everything snaps. And breaks. And you can try to glue all the fallen pieces together, but the outcome will never be the same. The scars will remain. And the problem was, everyone tried so desperately to hide them. He didn't. He embraced the flaws. And maybe one day they would too. He wouldn't stop his chaotic ways even if every citizen in Gotham sunk to their knees and begged for mercy, because that wasn't the point.

He could just imagine laughing in their faces at their naivety. Their confused and scared expressions as he pressed a knife against their throats. Told them things they didn't want to hear. Killed them when he saw fear in their eyes. Never had he had a chance to hold back because he saw a gleam of understanding in their eyes instead; a hint of madness.

Except this one time.

Well?

I hope you enjoyed that. Please review and leave your thoughts! Joker is my favorite character, so you'll probably see more of him from me later (a lot more, actually)! This was based off of Ledger's Joker, as you can probably tell.

Until next time!