AN: This is the old Joker. All white skin, green hair, ruby lips and emerald eyes. No scars, except in his mind.
Disclaimer: Not mine, I can only dream.
The rain was coming down in sheets when a scream pierced the night.
A guttural, terrified scream. The kind only heard at the end of someones life.
That was the first, but not the last.
Four months later the body count had risen to fifty-eight, with no sign of slowing down.
All the victims had been criminals of the worst sort: rapists, murders, drug pushers, master thieves and contract killers.
The underbelly of criminal society and its life blood.
Never a clue was left behind, no witnesses found; only a corpse growing cold on the street.
Commissioner Gordon was clueless; the Batman was angry.
No leads.
The killer seemed to know the underworld inside and out, but could not be found in it.
The criminal masses were running scared from the new menace on the loose.
Batman was standing on top of Wayne towers when the call came.
Body number fifty-nine had just been found at the docks.
Blast it! He always seemed to be on the wrong side of Gotham when these murders took place.
He would catch this new madman, whatever it took!
JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER
The Joker was living the easy life.
He had all the guards and orderlies completely spooked, even his new doctor only interacted with him at their scheduled, and mandatory, appointments.
Perhaps it was his charming personality.
More likely it was the fact he had remained inside Arkham, peacefully, for the last five months.
That last fight with Bats had really taken it out of he clown, and he had felt the need to relax a bit.
So here he was 'incarcerated', at least until he felt like not being so, healing up and terrorizing the other inmates.
He was now lounging in the rec room, having just beaten two-brains at a game of chance, staring out a window and wondering what his Batsy was up to.
"Yeah, and even the batman is stumped. I mean, I never thought I'd be happy to be locked up, by man..."
As the conversationalists traveled past, the Joker lost his happy smile.
His Batsy was stumped, that wasn't good.
Everyone knew about the murders, and like everyone he simply assumed it was just another psycho or blood thirsty vigilante.
But the killer had been going strong for four months now.
Four months!
No one was supposed to stump his Bat for so long but him!
Deciding he now had to do something about his competition for the Bats' attentions, the Joker walked out of the lounge.
Later that evening the head count came up short one green haired clown.
Everyone was suitably upset of course, there had been an escape!
But no one looked too hard for the madman.
After all they needed to count their blessings, he had left without killing anyone.
JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER
It took him three days.
Three days of pouring over every scrap of information the police had, as well as everything the crime syndicates could collect.
He had added in weather patterns, traffic reports and tide tables; finally coming up with a location for the next murder, as well as a name for the next victim.
Smiling at his own genius, he would never be caught if he didn't want to be after all, he headed out to the alley that would soon be a crime scene.
Hiding himself- not in the deepest shadows, that was an amateurish mistake and he was far from being an amateur- he waited.
It wasn't long before tonight's' victim came sauntering along: Marcus Jacobs, petty thief and serial rapist.
If the Joker were inclined towards pity, he wouldn't be feeling any now.
As the minutes dragged on, the Harlequin of Hate had a bare moment of doubt.
What if he were wrong?
Well, in that case, he would kill this miserable waste himself; go home and try again.
It wasn't as if he had any pressing appointments.
Busy suppressing his mirth at his own joke, the madman almost missed what happened next.
Almost.
He would wish later he had.
After the bloody deed was done the Clown Prince of Crime was left alone with a cooling corpse and a lot of questions.
Well, he thought, no wonder his Batsy was having trouble with this case. No one would ever expect this turn of events. He himself had just witnessed it all and still could hardly believe it.
Turning from the cold ally, and the unmourned lump of meat within, the Joker began to plan.
He would really need help with this, and he knew the perfect person too.
Deciding on his best course of action, he went back to his temporary lair, and packed.
Heading out of Gotham City proper, he stashed his bike and walked up to the stately manor.
A ring of the doorbell was answered by a startled and fearful butler.
"J-Joker! W-what-"
"Sorry to bother you Alfred, but I'm gonna need your help. It seems our boy has finally flipped his lid. Big time!"