disclaimer: I don't own Batman. I just don't. I'm only borderline psychotic, not over the top like half the characters, o-k? The bold faced lyrics are from Megalomania by Muse.

a/n: So yeah. I just recently re-watched Batman Begins and Dark Knight. I don't know but, I just kept noticing how Johnathan looks like a woman. A /woman/. He sounded like one to me at first as well, and my cousin mentioned some random things. I've also been thinking about the topic of "genius" lately. Noticing how that relatively all characters referred to as geniuses are either psychotic, on the deranged side, twisted, or are completely different than they portray. At least from Death Note, and Prince of Tennis as far as I can tell that's what they are like. I'm like that in a way, and I this is just the result.

Enjoy, please. (:

Useless device, it won't suffice.
I want a new game to play
When I am gone.
It won't be long, before I disturb you in the dark.

People could wrap themselves up in their delusions all they wanted; believing that this 'Batman' could bring down crime in Gotham. In all reality it was just a lie- the man behind the mask's desire to believe there was no such thing as injustice in the world. Lies, lies, lies; he could tell the Batman that even if crime went away, then there would be no such thing as justice. They were one in the same, opposites, without one the other would cease to exist. Heroes, nay, vigilantes just never seemed to see what happened beyond the mask.

He was here to fix that. No, you shouldn't get him confused with that fool of a Joker – no, he was worse, because the Batman had already defeated him. Locked him up nice and tight, getting treatment for his psychotic tendencies. What the Caped Crusader should have thought of was that not all villains show their real self that easily. The him that the hero had seen, was just one of many he could portray out of countless personalities he had invented for any purpose. Really – he wasn't considered a genius for nothing. Geniuses were the worst types of criminals; because they were dangerous beyond belief. Normally criminals had a motif, but geniuses can do things simply out of boredom. Which led many to believe the Joker was a genius; the smiling man was not that adept.

Truth was, people like him knew the methods the Joker used were lower-class, and that his plans weren't all that chaotic. The green-haired fool was merely good at using his resources, be they alive or not. People, barbaric things like that, could not understand the truth behind a few of the quickest to capture, but deadliest criminals out there. The type of criminals that want to be caught; to delude the capturer that that was all there was to them. A game, perhaps they only saw it as. Intelligence was a double-edged sword, one must know how to wield what they have to get anywhere. And to keep themselves from beings outwitted by someone smarter.

Sitting there, slender hands digging into the bedsheets, he knew. He simply knew where the weak points in the bars were, the best place to remove them without much commotion. All of it just came naturally, and for that he cursed the angels. Cursed the melodic sound that came through the tiny, barred window that let in sunlight now and then. Taunting him, mocking him, all in all just making his temporary stay here in this hellhole miserable.

Once, he had told his psychiatrist that he could see if people were blessed by the higher beings in the world – it just led to more medication that he coughed up once the doctors had left. It was true, he could just see it. See the plumes of large, glittering wings of either white or gray. Be they elaborate in design, or just plain old wings; he just knew they were blessings. There were other variations to the wing color – usually unusual people held colors other than white or gray. The Batman had black wings tipped with the lightest gold imaginable, massive invisible things that appeared to unconsciously aide him when he 'flew'. It was hilarious considering the man dressed up as a bat, a mother fucking nocturnal creature. Joker had wings too. They were plain, small and feeble of a disgusting green color. Unpleasant and going bare as feathers fell out here and there.

The only color he had yet to see was red – he wished he could see red wings. Beautiful wings the color of blood, soft and majestic. A captivating tone that only those deemed insane by society found fascinating, except of course the doctors that willingly cut up patients.

Red. Red, red, red, red. Red-

Hardly paying attention as the psychiatrist walked in, her soft brown hair bouncing lightly with each step, her ignore reached deaf ears. Immersed in his own considerably jumbled mind, also trying to sort through personality choices; which would be best to disturb the overly cheerful woman?

"How are you today?"

Her voice, annoying. Aggravating, it made him want to throttle her here, regardless of the guards standing threateningly outside of the cell, weapons poised. "Delightful," sarcasm lacing his shockingly feminine tone; making him sound unreasonably vile.

Ignoring his tone another question came his way, "Care to tell me about your childhood?"

"I. Don't. Remember," he dragged his words out, as the trained professional were the stupid one. Seems she had forgotten that he was also trained in dealing with mental patients. Wasn't hard to get around the examiner's questioned; you would think with the Wayne Co.'s fundings, there would be a better staff.

Sighing, the woman seemed to understand that this wasn't going to get anywhere, and left with a huff. Her smooth, unblemished skin asking to be soiled just as his own had been. Soiled, ruined, destroyed, all of it; gone forever, never for anyone to see again. No one would find out what he hid, even if he could be saved for telling. If he did, not only would it shatter the realities of some people, but delude many more for obvious reasons. Still, it seemed only he understood the reasons.

Hours passed before he heard it; the telltale explosions of an escaping Joker. Dark locks fell into his vision, which were blown away with a soft huff. The guards rushed away from his cell to head towards the top-security one that contained the smiling monster, and he knew that this would be his chance. Long pale fingers wrapping around two bars, wriggling them forcefully he managed to pry them out of place. Slipping out through the small space with his disgustingly female thin body, he even returned the bars to their rightful places. Let them wonder, was his motive.

Then he fled, ignoring the way the sudden activity tampered with his frail body and fatigued him greater than it should have. He was going to get out, let them try and stop him. Let the Batman try and get him locked up once more in Arkham – he dared them! Most of all he dared the Dark Knight. He was different now then he was before; now he would be playing for real. For keeps. And one actually played for keeps, one's plans succeeded more times than if one didn't care about winning. The next day the headlines read The Joker has escaped once more – for good, or not!?

A smaller header, but still on the front page in neat, block-y letters was; Jonathan Crane has disappeared from Arkham –

Paradise comes at a price
That I am not prepared to pay.
What were we built for?
Could someone tell me, please?

There is little one could do if the Joker just happened staring at you with the whites of his eyes blazing, and a brand new pistol pointed at your head. Crane knew this well, as such was the situation he was in. The Fool Himself wore a wicked grin, the scars making it look larger and even more like a Cheshire Cat grin than it should. Shuddering, the malnourished escapee regarding the weapon with slight distaste, the Joker simply had no tact.

"Well!? Used my escape as a distraction, huh, birdie? To get away from the cage they put ya in, huh?" Sickening, the voice of the wretch made the once-doctor feel like hurling. A sick feeling gathered in his stomach, creeping up into his muscles, up along his spine sending shivers throughout his body.

"Nope, sorry Joker," the other spat, face screwed up in repulsion.

The trademark nasal laughter filled the air as the madman threw his head back to the ceiling, ignoring the harsh sounds of tires outside. "Poor, poor, Johnny boy. Just can't admit ya needed me to get away, huh, huh? Birdie needed someone ta open his cage?" Apparently the Joker found this hilarious, and broke out into laughter even as another presence entered the room.

Dark wings, unfurled to the full size sent dark feathers scattering about the area, shadowed things only he could see. Only he could feel brush his skin to reveal that they were as soft as he had ever imagined, a feeling of peace and calm causing Johnathan to slump slightly. Almost, only slightly was he tempted to reach out and grasp the invisible wings – but he didn't dare with a weapon pointed in his direction. The Joker may have been an idiot, but an idiot with a weapon was still a dangerous idiot.

Suddenly the Joker stopped his laughter, painted face turning in the direction of the shadowed silhouette, "Aw. Batsy's here to ruin our fun, birdie. Isn't he just ever so rude?"

The Caped Crusader's head turned in Johnathan's direction, causing the frail looking man to flinch back, not wanting to be caught in the rage that the masked man had. Sometimes it reminded him of the past, the past where the crack of a whip would connect with his back. Hurting him, scarring his pale skin, marking him. It was a similar sort of fear that would wrap itself around his throat, not promising pain, but not saying it wouldn't come.

"Joker."

Rasping, dark rough voice brought upon the memories – memories he had done his best to rid of. The suffering from his own drug, the fear toxin which he had been able to rid his body of during a rare moment of being lucid. Fear of bats, fear of the dark, fear of everything dark. Having suffered with that for a few months at best, it hadn't simply faded away. Making an irremovable scar on his personality, never to be truly gone, but never to be really there. A nonsense paranoia that would haunt him like the fears of past times that he didn't remember all to well.

The barrel of a pistol being waved in front of his sharp blue eyes that said he should have been blind if stories were real, snapped him out of his thoughts. A pale finger was hooked around the trigger, and the mocking voice rang out, "Hey, hey, bats. If ya want to take the birdie here back to his cage, don't make me pull ta trigger. Don't take a step forward, don't move at all."

"Drop the gun-"

"I said if ya want to take the bird back to his cage, you are going to have to cooperate, bats."

Enraged slightly at the prospect of his life being on the line just on the whim of a human criminal made the former doctor react quickly. Hands reached around to grasp the barrel of the gun and the Joker's wrist, wrenching the weapon from the hand just as the wrist was twisted painfully. Now having the weapon that had threatened him, he aimed it at the Joker's head, licking his lips in a mockery as he cooed, "Aw? Is the Fool to caught up in his own joke to laugh? That is just too sad."

Clearly the threat was obvious as the painted face rasped out, "Ya can't go through with it birdie, ya couldn't even kill bats. What makes ya think you can kill me?"

Pressing the gun against the Joker's neck, Johnathan snarled, "I'm not the Batman; I don't care if I have to kill. Besides, you need to die Joker, that much is obvious. If the hero can't do it – then why not another villain?"

A gloved hand grasped his wrist, squeezing it slightly - hold on the gun loose enough that the Joker scrambled back chuckling. The sharp, judging eyes of the former doctor slid up to stare at the Batman's own expression that stated 'death-is-not-the-answer', and snarled slightly. How dare that masked man ruin his fun before it had even begun - wait. Did, perhaps, the Batman want to finish the grinning madman on his own? Maybe the Dark Knight couldn't except that someone else could easily surprise the Joker. The classic hero in denial. Sad, that things played out in similar manners each and everyday. A repetitive occurrence, so much that even the Joker's chaos wasn't enough to cause much damage. What happened from such a poorly thought out plan, unorganized and undetermined.

Blinking, he glanced around wildly, surprised at the absence of noise. He really did have a habit of drifting off, the first thing to do once he got away from the Batman (who was still there and staring at him) was to fix that problem. Finally growing uncomfortable from the stare, Johnathan glanced sheepishly at the hero, "What?"

"Nothing."

Eyes furrowed in concentration, he examined the costume wearing (not at all crazy) man with a hint of curiosity. The man was acting strange, not only had he stopped him from killing (well that seemed natural) but he had also tried to protect him from the madman. Strange. Deciding not to contemplate anything further he huffed, "Uh huh. Yeah, nothing? Why are you staring at me, goddamnit? Do you have nothing better to do?"

The Batman seemed annoyed at that before he answered somewhat reluctantly, "I need your help." And I had been about to break you out of Arkham to ask your help. But here you are-

"The great Batman needs the help of me? A criminal? I wonder why," was the joking return, a hint of disgust lacing his tone. A murderous look from the dark hero nearly silenced the criminal, who was now regarding the hero with annoyance. "Well? Seeing as you aren't going to explain, does that mean I can go back to the batcave in the batmobile?"

"Its not called the batmobile. Or the batcave."

Sure, he snorted, keep telling yourself Batman. Johnathan figured the Batman was just to ashamed of his lack of naming skills to say that was what he really called them. Following the caped hero, he examined the car slightly before the dark cloth of a blindfold, well, blinded him. Damn that bat.

"You can't know where the lair is."

Johnathan cursed furiously at that, tempted to punching the bat- if he could figure out how close he was to the hero.

Take off your disguise;
I know that underneath it's me.

It doesn't make much sense. But, well, since when did anything? Just the first chapter, there are more... to come. Yeah. Sure. If people think this is amusing enough. I should be working on other stories, but I'm in the midst of a brain fart for most. The ideas have all washed away... away, so very very far away. .___."

Hmmm, whatsit you put down here? Oh yeah!

Tell me if you liked it.

If you hated it, tell me why.