Here's a Joker fanfic, based off of the Arkham Games series, which are my favorite games of all times. I haven't been able to play the Arkham Knight, but I know what goes on and how it ends. This is a continuation of that.
Disclaimer: If I owned the Joker and Batman, there'd be a hell lot more going on then what there is today :)
He sat in the dark, cold, dank cell, huddled in a corner, long legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Around the cell, partially around his corner, as he dubbed it, there were scratches, tallies, counting the days, or at least what he perceived as days. It was really only night here, nothing ever changed, nothing ever moved, and it was driving him absolutely barmy! Well, at least more than he was before.
Sometimes he could hear things, though. He didn't know if it was his own madness, his imagination chasing after him or even Batsy's own thoughts... He hoped they were dear Bruce's -At least that would make things interesting.
The first day, or night, he was here, the Joker was not willing to admit defeat. He scoured the tiny cell for anything, anyway for him to get out and back into the passengers seat of Bruce's head. Now, he was in the trunk, and it seemed there was no way out. There hardly was anything even in the cell itself, save for a uncomfortable bed, steel sink, and toilet bowl. The mirror above the sink was shattered within an hour of him being in there. Right now he was clutching a long shard of it like a security blanket, even though it sliced through his glove and palm like they were made of butter. The pain was minimal, and he wished there was more just so he could ground himself. He found out the hard way, awhile back, that even trying to slit his own throat ended up in only blood loss, no death, and just a little pain.
Sounds reverberated through his cell, loud enough to make it sway and for him to cover his ears, not noticing as the sharp end of the glass shard dig deep into his shoulder. It was a deep sound, like a church bell, ringing in his ears. But when he focused more, it sounded like chuckling.
"What is the Bats doing?" He wondered aloud, wincing on how dry and hoarse his own voice sounded. The sound soon stopped, but the cell continued to rock, slowly, just enough to make him feel slightly seasick. Dropping the blood covered shard and using the wall as support to get up, the Joker made his way over to the cell door, the only place in the cell that he hadn't been since the Batman's betrayal.
Batman himself was there, just beyond the bars and the dark pit that separated them. The joker could just barely see the dark knight.
"What are you doing, Bats?" He called out, as loud as his voice would allow. To his surprise, the Batman turned his head, ever so slightly to the Joker. If anyone actually saw this, it would look like the Batman wasn't looking at the Joker, but rather at the floor. The Joker knew better, and his grin grew wide.
"Did something happen, Brucy?"The Joker asked, cringing at the slight warble in his voice that showed desperation.
By the batman, a dark form appeared, memories, that turned to Alfred. Alfred laughing, Alfred tying a young Bruce's shoe...
The Joker quickly caught on that something was indeed wrong and not funny. At least, not to the Dark Knight.
However, all he saw was an advantage. And he was going to take it, no matter the cost. The Joker laughed as a plan formed in his mind.
Bruce-y boy will never see this coming