So I'm bored and I can't seem to stop writing about the Joker lately, and I thought I'd attempt to write one that had a real plot and that wasn't just smut, LOL. I will warn you that this story will attempt to dabble into a more human side of the Joker, so be warned. There will be a little romancey type stuff, but it wont be just that. Anyway, R&R! ;)

***

"What the hell happened? Where am I?" The Joker thought this in his brain; did he still have a brain? The last thing he remembered was having yet another epic battle with that annoying goody good Batman on the rainy streets of Gotham. Batman's large tank like vehicle had side swiped his big rig full of clown goons, causing it to swerve and crash into the wall of a building. Then he remembered his posse pouring out of the vehicle, with himself shooting erratically at the tank and taunting Batman to run him over whilst laughing like a hyena on nitrous oxide.

And then he heard a loud 'pop!' and…

The Joker's vision came into focus. He noticed everything seemed a lot clearer all of a sudden. Crystal clear. As if someone had gauged out his eyes and replaced them with super telescopic god like eyes. He could see the cracks in the buildings a mile away, and the sprinkles of rain splattering on the walls. He felt lighter than a feather and he could feel his entity beginning to drift upward.

That's when he looked down and noticed a body beneath him, lying lifeless in the street in front of another large truck. The man was lying face down on the pavement, and his makeup was running off his face from the rain hitting it. A man in a clown mask hurriedly hopped out of the big rig and ran to the body, kneeling down in front of it. "Boss, boss!" he chirped in a panicky voice.

"Oh God damn it!" The Joker fumed. It was a big rig full of his back up that he had been waiting for. His own idiot henchman had hit him with the truck! The Joker found he was able to make himself float swiftly down to where his entity was beside the worried masked man. He latched two 'see through' hands around his neck, not even startled by the fact that he could now see through his own hands. "Chuckles! If you killed me I'll murder you!" The Joker roared, though no one could hear him and his hands went right through Chuckles's neck. Chuckles felt a cold chill run up his spine and he shook it off.

" Damn it, damn it! No, no, no!" The Joker bellowed and attempted to kick Chuckles with his foot going right through his body. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen! I wasn't supposed to die this way! Batman was supposed to kill me, not you! I'll haunt you until the end of your days! I'll haunt your Grand kids! I am so going poltergeist on your ass!"

The Joker's spirit continued to attempt to pummel his men, even as the Batman pummeled them himself, knocking most of them out and disarming them of their weapons. And right up until Batman called the police and an ambulance, and his men were cuffed and shoved to the ground in a line. A group of EMT's now surrounded the Joker's body, trying to revive him.

The Joker watched angrily, irritated that Batman was the one to call an ambulance. He was actually trying to save him! This was it! It was over. Even at his death Batman continued to taunt him with his sickening strive to be good. He truly was incorruptible. The Joker had lost and now his spirit would be doomed to forever wander the earth annoyed.

"He's still alive." One of the EMT's said. "He's just unconscious." The Joker's spiritual ears perked. The EMT's loaded his body onto a stretcher and rolled him into the back of the ambulance. The Joker's spirit flew into the back of the ambulance and attempted to reenter his body. But upon his endeavor he felt as though there was a magnetic force pushing him away and preventing him from reentering his body. And he tried, and tried again, and again, his spirit furiously bouncing off the invisible force field rapidly.

The Joker growled and spat out every curse word he could think of. The young EMT that held a breathing mask to the Joker's face felt a cold chill surge through his body as the Joker's spirit hovered near him.

***

The Joker's body was rushed into the hospital, and his spirit now watched with astonishment as the doctors and nurses worked hastily in order to make sure the Joker stayed alive. "Do they realize who I am?" The Joker thought to himself. Then he snickered at the sight of them working so vigorously in order to prevent a mass murdering maniac from dying. It was probably better for them that they did though, because once he was able to reenter his body, he planned to wreak havoc, starting with Chuckles, and now he just might spare this place from his wrath.

***

The Joker was even more irate now, as they hooked his body to a feeding tube and announced that he was in a serious coma and didn't know when he would recover from it. "What kind of worthless doctor are you!" the Joker screamed into the head doctor's ear. "Jolt me awake dammit! Electrocute me! Set me on fire! Do something! I can't live like this!"

The doctor felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Is it chilly in here?" he asked the two nurses. They were both staring at the Joker's body with apprehensive expressions.

"With all do respect doctor," one of the nurses spoke up. "This is the Joker here. He's a mass murdering criminal terrorist. I know it's not P.C but..." She paused and shared eye contact with one of the other nurses; she was already nodding in agreement. "Wouldn't it be better for the world if we just, you know, unplugged him? He's just going to rot in here anyway."

"What?!" the Joker glared at her with his ghostly eyes. "Why you little..! You're just lucky I'm half dead sweetheart! Now I changed my mind. When I get back in my body, I'm coming to deal with you First!" He waggled a finger near her and the nurse shivered.

"It does feel like there's a draft in here," said the nurse.

"I'll have to have one of the hospital staff check the temperatures on the air conditioning," Said the doctor. "As for our patient here. Yes he is a wanted criminal mastermind. But the law states that we cannot pull the plug without legal consent. So we're just going to have to keep him here until the state intervenes and decides what is to be done with him."

With that the doctors and nurses left the room, leaving the Joker's body in a bed hooked to a feeding tube. The Joker glared at his own body. He was even angry at it. If he could he would punch his own body in the face, just for having the nerve to be in a coma and not allowing him to reenter it.

He attempted to merge with it several more times, before giving up and proceeding to float around the room angrily. If he had physical hair, he would be ripping it out by now. He ran his fingers through his ghostly hair. He did actually feel hair there, so he tugged and pulled on it but felt no pain, and no chunks came out in his hands. Also disappointing. He couldn't even take his anger out on anything. "Oh what has fate bestowed upon me?" the Joker talked to himself dramatically. "What the hell am I supposed to do now? I'm not dead and I'm not alive. Am I going to be stuck in this room until my body decides to wake up or die completely?"

After the Joker had asked himself that question, a radiant ball of golden light appeared in the middle of the room, starting out small, and then quickly expanding, opening up a brilliant indescribable porthole of beauty. Any normal person would have been instantly attracted to it and would have a sudden undeniable urge to merge with it. But the Joker merely shot it a devious glare of disgust.

He licked his lips. It was a force of habit and he expected to feel the risen skin of his scars there, but instead he felt smooth skin. Smoother than any females skin he had ever trailed his fingers over. Of course he wouldn't have scars there. He was no longer in his body. The fact his skin now felt softer than a female's also had him grimacing in disgust. He preferred to have rugged skin with stubble and scars and bullet hole wounds. It made him a man! Plus it gave him character. Now he felt like a feminine pixie. He had an abrupt urge to stick a knife in his spiritual skin and carve himself up some character, but of course that idea was futile as well.

The Joker leered nastily at the dazzling light. "Oh, you think I'm going to come with you do ya? Do you really think I'm that stupid? Oh no, no, no." The Joker scoffed at it. "Ya know, I didn't think you existed…whatever you are. Quite impressive I must say. But my time isn't up. Oh no. I have a lot more havoc to wreak. So you think I'm coming with you? Do you? Do you think I even want to?" The Joker cackled spitefully, and pulled further away from the light. "Do you think I want to?!" He yelled at the light. Beneath his maniacal laughter there was a hint of pain.

At the Joker's hateful bellowing, the light shrank and then vanished, leaving the hospital room cold and empty. The Joker felt himself sneer. "Good riddance," he spat. Then he felt himself being pulled upward. Part of it was his own doing, and part of it was a slight magnetic force pulling him away from that room. He pondered how far he could travel away from his body. He wondered if he was confined to stay near it.

He soon found out that it didn't matter how far he traveled from his body. He floated to the upper levels of the hospital, seeing hospital staff at work on the floor above, and then he floated straight through the roof. Then higher and higher he drifted, taking in a full view of Gotham in all its darkened glory, and the ominous rain clouds that hovered above it.

The Joker floated in place for a few moments, still bitter about what had happened. He was a lost and befuddled spirit and he didn't know where to go. He was surprised no hellhounds had shown up to drag him off to the black abyss yet. At least that might be interesting. Of course, he knew those myths weren't true. He wouldn't be so lucky. He felt a sudden magnetic pull again, and his spirit instinctively followed it.

"Where the hell am I going?" The Joker asked himself. It seemed half of him was willingly letting himself be pulled along and half of him was trying to fight it. But he was so frazzled at the moment that he no longer cared. He just had the dire need to destroy something.

The magnetic force was pulling his spirit through the suburbs and beyond, to downtown Gotham. It seemed his speed was picking up, and he watched the streets and buildings swish by, faster and faster. His celestial eyes saw children and families sleeping peacefully in their homes. Children sleeping with their dogs sprawled out at the foot of their beds. He saw couples arguing, and alcoholics drinking themselves to oblivion alone in their rooms. He saw lovers making love, and drug dealers making sales. He saw homes being burglarized and hookers picking up customers on the streets. He saw a group of gang members brutally beating a man who owed them money.

Faster and faster he swooshed over Gotham. If he had a physical body, he might be sick. He felt like Superman, traveling like a speeding bullet until he reached a modest little apartment complex on the east outskirts of Gotham.

***

Shirley Winslow was half asleep when she felt a tall apparition, standing over her at her bedside. For a moment, she felt she was still dreaming as her eyelids barely creaked open. Then a cold chill stabbed at her body, like a chilling breeze on a frozen winter morning. Shirley violently bolted upright. Panting heavily, she scoured her room. No one was there. She shivered and felt the hairs on her arms standing up. She cuddled herself and rubbed her arms. "What a disturbingly vivid dream," She mumbled to herself. Looking around the room anxiously once more, she laid herself back down and buried herself in her covers. It wasn't long before she fell back asleep.

The Joker licked his ghostly lips, and watched the young girl lying in bed, clad in her pink nightgown. She was the one giving off the magnetic force and he wanted to know why. He felt his entity being pulled in her direction. He watched her chest heaving up and down from her breathing. Her dirty blond hair was sprawled out on her pillow, and her face was pretty and fair, skin like porcelain. Her lips were full and parted cutely as she slept.

The Joker growled within himself. He found her to be quite beautiful, and the fact that she was lying alone in her bed, asleep and so vulnerable made him wish that he were back in his physical body more than ever. But if he didn't have a physical body, how was he still experiencing lust? An assumption suddenly entered the Joker's mind. Perhaps this was his Hell. Still feeling urges and never being able to fulfill them. "If that's the case, I guess the Jokes on me eh?" The Joker spoke to himself and to whatever higher power could hear him. "Damn it. God Damn it." The Joker muttered irritably.

***

To be continued. Mwahahaha.