Written for the mission_insane fic challenge on LJ.
Title: Out of Mind
Author: carnageincminor
'Verse: Batman
Claim/Characters: General - Joker
Rating: T
Warnings: spoilers for "The Killing Joke", but you probably already know what happens
Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC Comics/Warner Brothers and was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. This story is partially based on "The Killing Joke" by Alan Moore and Brian Bolland. I own nothing but my words.
Summary: A man dies and a Joker is born. Oneshot gen-fic.
Table/Prompt: Songs - "God Loves a Liar" by A Wilhelm Scream
Words: 461
OUT OF MIND
.
Today is the day that I drown for the fun of it
Today is the day that I laugh in the dark
Today is the day that I see myself for what I really am
Dead to the world
"God Loves a Liar" by A Wilhelm Scream
.
Jeannie.
It's his last coherent thought, mid-air, before he plunges into the vat of chemical waste. The roiling green liquid submerges him in its muted embrace as he sinks, alone with his panic.
Oh god oh god oh god
He's going to die. Everything went wrong. Everything. Just one bad day and everything went wrong.
The stinging begins at his ankles then runs up his legs, his arms, his insides, like wildfire. He sucks in a sudden breath, wheezing; the red hood allows him the brief privilege. Even that soon starts to fill as prickling water seeps up his collar. A convulsion arcs through his body for a second.
It's the chemicals
He flails desperately. The stupid red cape -- forced to wear it along with the stupid red hood -- counters his every move in this state of suspension, preferring to drag along with the current. After a number of spins in the vat, he finds himself being carried into a giant pipe.
Out. He could get out.
Tumbling through the chute, he strains to push himself onward. He has to. He doesn't want to die, not like this. He doesn't deserve this. He's a scientist, a comedian; he's just had one bad day and he doesn't deserve this. He holds on -- even with his burning lungs and burning skin, and his face...
Until he is spat out into the river. Out. A shove of the hood over his mouth lets water drain down his face and he gasps deep gutfuls of air. He glimpses a scarlet vision of land through the hood's eye-glass and swims for the embankment.
Hands grab onto solid ground. With effort, he pulls himself up and kneels in the mud. He's made it.
Get this stupid hood off
His head comes free in an instant. Springy, wet curls spill over his forehead and that's when he sees. The rain hasn't stopped and the surface of the puddle keeps shifting, but he sees. With bulging eyes, he sees how he has changed. What he's become. That reflection staring back from the water is his. It's his green hair. It's his bleached skin.
No
His fever red eyes.
No!
His inhuman stretch of a mouth.
NO!
He clutches his head because he can do nothing else. Everything went wrong. Everything. It's the one bad day to end all bad days. Nobody laughs at his jokes and he can't pay the bills and he's duped by the gangsters his wife is dead the plan is screwed he's become a freakshow he's become a clown
He can't help but laugh.
A deep, shrieking wild laugh, that echoes into the night and splits his face open wider than any natural smile could achieve. Now he sees the funny side.