THE ONE-SHOT OF DOOM!
I got bored. And yeah, I agree with all other writers here, there isn't enough JokerxBatman slash on here.
So I wrote one.
HOO-RAH.
I'm honestly expecting nothing but flames. (Mostly because I wrote the only Mary-Sue bashing story in this fandom) Haha.. To be honest? I don't think even Stephen King could write The Joker Heath portrayed. Has anyone read the official novel of 'The Dark Knight?' the review said the author of the book couldn't even capture it.
It's a treat, sadly, you'll only be able to experience in the theatres for the time being. But anyway..
Enjoy?
PS! Sadly my grandma's visit is draining me of all my funny because she does nothing but tell me things I'm apparently doing wrong in life. So for the next few days she's staying, don't expect any updates on The Mary-Sue story. If there is one, I can't gaurantee the same zip it once had.
-goes into teenage angst mode-
Pahahahaha.
DISCLAIMER! DON'T OWN TDK
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Thunder boomed in the distance, and then a streak of lightening streaked its' way across the sky. Two figures stood in front of the warehouse, completely frozen, eyes staring each other down. The sky gave out one last final cry before giving birth to the cold rain that now drummed upon the city streets. A cruel laugh slipped out of the trench coat wearing fiend, who was covered in the blood of one of his latest victims. The reason for the killing? Attention. He had wanted the Dark Knight's eyes only on him, no one else. Basking in the feel of the blue-eyed hero of sorts, he allowed the rain to glide down his face.
The once sloppily applied clown make-up now seemed to slide off, giving him the appearance of almost melting. As a few drops dripped off his hair and crashed to the ground, he licked his lips, his yellowing teeth with visible for only a moment. He smacked them together now, and lolled his eyes back, as if thinking of something to say.
"Why'd you do it?" A raspy voice growled from the other clad in black, who's lips were pressed in a firm line. A symbol of fear to many who were afraid of the dark, and a much needed ally to the police for such a crucial time like this. His eyes had a dark shadow applied around them, but his crystal blue orbs shined through despite it. The man was a walking enigma, a puzzle with a missing piece, a labyrinth with no end. The mask.. When you knew what a man stood for, you wanted to know the outer shell as well. He was incomplete, unsolved.
"During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director what is the criterion which defines a patient to be institutionalized…" The joker began, tan colored skin appearing underneath the make-up that was under the ever constant attack of the falling rain. The blood that once covered his gloves had disappeared onto the street and down the gutter. He cleared his throat, voice high-pitched for only a moment, then slowly drawling into a cruel and gruffer one. "Well," said the Director "We fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub". He tilted his head, flinging face paint and water from his tangled mess of hair to the side.
"Enough, Joker." Batman said, clearly not amused. He was breathing in a more shallow manner now, obviously losing his cool. His fists were clenched, and teeth grinding in his mouth. He couldn't… wouldn't kill him. But the Joker was walking on already thin ice with him, and his voice was beginning to sound like nails on a chalkboard.
"Oh, I understand," The Joker continued despite the warning, "A normal person would use the bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or teacup". He almost burst into a fit of laughter, but kept his cool to finish. "No!" He snarled, causing Batman to jump from the animosity dripping in his voice. "A normal person would pull the plug! Do you want a room with or without a view?!" He then stared at Batman emotionlessly, waiting for some.. Any, kind of reaction really. Face no longer covered up in the make-up, his scars were a bit less visible. His head was almost set in a nod, dark color eyes fixed on the other man. Lips connected to scars, were almost set in a pout.
A fist collided with his face, and the thunder rumbled to add in a symphony of sound. Lightening ripped through the sky once more, looking like a knife cutting through black velvet. The Joker's heart fluttered within his chest, almost surprised at Batman's heated response.
It was just a joke.
A few more hits from the stronger more muscled man, and the Joker was practically thrown to the ground like a rag doll. It had been all in good fun, really. Nothing to take seriously. He'd just wanted to see a bit more emotion from the Dark Knight, is all. Something more than disgust, or anger. Maybe even put a smile on that face..
"I'm beginning to think you're a sociopath, Batsy." The Joker coughed, and a mixture of rainwater and blood shot from his mouth. It was really coming down now, and the street was flooding.
The Dark Knight turned away from him, much to Joker's annoyance. He lay sprawled out on the ground, realizing he'd lost when the sirens became visible in the distance. Gordon and his gang of thugs that called themselves cops would be arriving any moment now. Frowning, he looked up and stared at the buildings that loomed above him.
"Maybe I need to work on my material.." He said aloud, not really talking to anyone in particular. The rain still poured down on the smaller man's frame until finally when the cops had arrived, he'd been dragged into the car and was back on his way towards Arkham asylum once more.
Hours later, Bruce Wayne removed the mask and shook his wet black hair, with a small smirk on his face. Alfred walked in with his dinner, looking at Bruce with pursed lips. "Long night, Master Wayne?"
Bruce shook his head tiredly. "Alfred.." He began, looking at his hands, which throbbed a tiny bit.
"Yes, Master Wayne?" Alfred mumbled, slightly stifling a yawn.
"So, a guy visit's a mental asylum and asks the director criterion which defines a patient to be institutionalized.." Bruce began.
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