The world had ended. It was official. The Joker looked thoughtful and curious as he loped through the empty streets of Gotham. The sky was a blood red, everything was blackened and charred. The green haired man slowed as he came across a car, burnt to a crispy black, complete with paint crackled and flaking off. Everything seemed to be coated in a black soot-like powder, rendering the fractured windows unable to be seen through.
The Joker looked around surreptitiously although not a soul was around to bear witness to his deviance. He pulled his arm back punched through the glass. The sound shattered the silence and he spun around, eyes darting here and there as if the sudden noise would draw the world out from where it had crawled into. Slightly disappointed, he turned back to the car, only to freeze as he took notice of what was inside.
"Heh..." Head cocked to the side, he considered the sight. Two decomposing bodies, melted into their seats. They seemed to have been holding hands. The bloated fingers intertwined, adhering together in whatever incendiary demise that had ended them. Together...forever.
It made him smile. His lips stretching tight across his face until the laughter broke its way through. He doubled over with the effort. Somehow he ended up on all fours, heavy bouts of laughter making his entire frame shake. Bits of the black soot and what looked like flakes of ash rose from the ground where his balled fists smacked against what used to be the street.
Eventually his laughs died out. The Joker rolled onto his back in a puff of ash and soot. He stared up, almost bored, at the burgundy sky. Not even phased by the drastic change in color.
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, the Batman was hovering over him, face merely inches from his own. The blue eyes that usually fixed him with heated glare were bloodshot and distant. Deranged or rabid or both. The Bats smelled like blood and death. It was in his breath, Joker noticed when Batman opened his mouth to speak.
"Joker." His tone dripped with venom. Kind of like the way a trickle of reddish pink saliva dribbled from between Batman's lips.
The Joker woke with a start, back in his cell at Arkham. He hopped up from the more comfortable part of the cement floor where he liked to sleep and stepped toward his cell bars. Pressing his face against the cold metal strips, he looked down the hall to see the nurses at their stations. He could see activity in the shadows of the other cells.
With an unhappy sigh he realized the world was, as it always is. Alive. As the Joker slumped back to his corner he could only think of one thing:
Was Bats drinking blood? Or was he actually eating people?