I, unfortunately, do not own the Joker. The rest of the characters are pretty much mine though.. Please review!
It was six o'clock and the sun was still bright in the summer sky. The clouds drifted idly, waiting for a breeze to aid them. But the air was calm. The stillness that lingered was eerie, and unusually strong heat pressed down in a suffocating blanket. It was the hottest day Gotham had witnessed so far that year.
On the outskirts of the city, where the towering sky scrapers met the pocket-sized houses and cottages of the residential areas, a family were living their lives.
A man sat in an armchair in his living room, feet up on a footstool, reading a newspaper. His wife was across the hallway, in the kitchen. She sang to herself whilst she scraped the remains of their evening meal off of some plates, before stacking the plates in a pile in the sink. Upstairs was their daughter. She lay sprawled across the bed, her long black hair dangling over the edge of the mattress, listening to music that was being blasted out from a stereo in the corner of the room. Outside, in the back garden, was her brother. The oppressive heat didn't faze him for an instant – he kicked a ball around the grass, booting it at a makeshift goal – made of two plant pots that were stood a few feet apart – every few minutes.
Anyone who had ever met the Bennett family, however briefly, could tell you they were the closest thing to a perfect family. They looked after each other and helped out anyone else in need of assistance. Their large house was always immaculate, both inside and out, though they refused to hire any help. They gave to charity, took trips and outings together on Saturdays and attended church on Sundays. They were average-looking, with the exception of the sixteen year-old girl, Mia, who insisted on dying her hair and wearing dark, heavy clothes at all times of the year. But even she was blessed with the same charming personality that the rest of the Bennett family was.
As Eric Bennett turned the page of the newspaper he was reading, his wife, Valerie, entered the living room and sat down next to him, utterly exhausted.
'That's it, I'm done. I can't handle any more housework today,' she sighed. Her husband simply patted her hand, too engrossed in the article in front of him to congratulate her or console her, or whatever it was he was supposed to do.
The page in front of him read:
BEYOND A JOKE
Gotham City burns and the Joker remains at large.
As another building is targeted by the king of Gotham's criminal underworld, we are forced to ask the same question that has been asked for the past year: Can the Joker ever be caught?
The Emerald Club, a respectable nightclub in the south of Gotham was the next part of the city to be attacked in the early hours of this morning. Fortunately there were no fatalities, although the occupants of the rooms upstairs, including the owner of the club, have been admitted to hospital with serious injuries.
The Gotham City police force have been doing everything possible to track down this mastermind and put a stop to the devastation the city is suffering, though the citizens of Gotham find themselves wondering if what the authorities are doing will ever be enough...
Eric stopped reading and put the newspaper down. He rested his head in his hands and groaned.
'You're doing all you can honey,' Valerie reassured him, but he was beyond reassurance.
Eric Bennett was a superintendent of Gotham's police force. He believed he was personally responsible for the force's inability to capture the villainous Joker. He refused to admit it was the Joker's skill that kept him under their radar – according to Superintendent Bennett there must be something he and the force could do better. There must be something they were missing...
'Mom, Dad? Can I please go see if Daniel wants to play?'
The voice of his son, Peter, brought Eric out of his depression. Peter stood in front of them, his mousey-blonde hair flopping in his eyes. The dark brown eyes and high cheekbones made him resemble his father an astonishing amount. Eric looked down at him and smiled.
'Course you can, son. Be home by half past seven though, right?'
Peter grinned – the grin was missing two teeth – and sprinted out the door.
'Stay in the street dear!' Valerie called.
''Kay,' was the distant reply.
Valerie leaned her head back against the sofa and shut her eyes. Peter was only ten, but was already smarter than a lot of the older children they knew. He was very polite, excelled in all areas of schooling, and had lots of friends. She was so proud of him.
'Mom, Dad?' Peter reappeared inside the living room. Valerie opened her eyes and looked at her son. His face was flushed and his eyes were flickering towards the window anxiously. When he spoke his voice had a tense edge to it. 'There's a clown on the front lawn.'