{A/N: I know I dropped my other story sorta, but I got some inspiration to write this. I am fascinated by the Joker, namely the portrayal in Dark Night. This guy really did put a smile on my face. I mean come on, explosions, knives, guns, and a love of all things anarchal and chaotic. Hello, do you see my user name? So this story is late, but it's hopefully going to be good. For this one I get to dive into the psyche of someone crazy...er than me.
p.s. It helps if you read this and think of The Joker with all his wild gesticulating and the voice.}
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Prologue: Words from The Joker
You know…a Joker is a funny thing, when playing cards of course, it always depends on the game whether it's good or bad. Say you're playing spades, a joker's a good thing because you've got the highest trump. But now Old Maid…never did like old maid myself, the joker is the last thing you want in your hand. When I don't have the luxury of getting to play some of my more favored games, you can distinguish these from the others by the explosions and uh-screams, I only play the games where the joker is a wild card. Why? Well, it makes things terribly unpredictable.
I uh, I like to use this method, among others, when out attending to my other hobbies. I like to try and make things unpredictable. I don't have plans and blueprints, I don't scheme, I never, never strategize…I like to see what I do as, as inspirational chaos. Yes, you may argue that planting bombs in places takes a bit of planning, but the point is that I don't have a big picture. There is no grand scheme. I do what I do, and that is all. Frankly, it tickles me to see the havoc and terror.
I'm more free than anyone in Gotham City because I don't have plans. They all live on loops; wakeup, eat, get ready for the day, go to whatever it is they do every other monotonous day, come home, eat, go to bed. Repeat until you die. They just don't see that they're all like little ants marching in the same line. Now, when I was a kid, I used to lick my finger and slide it over the line, this interrupts the scent trail that they follow to get somewhere, the ants didn't know where to go and they started to go nuts. Same thing happens with people really, you mess up the line and get everything out of order, they start running around with even less of a clue that they had before. I'm doing a public service, if I may be so bold, because I'm showing them just how fragile they really are. And the Batman…well…well let us just say that he's somewhere in between. He desperately wants to be an ant and have everything all ordered and right, but he can't because there are wasps out there who are looking for a bit of fun (like me) and Mr. HeroComplex feels like he is the only one who can protect his fellow ants. To do that, you gotta break a few rules. You have to get out of line. And there, he contradicts himself…A man who puts on a mask to keep everything all lined up on the shelf with his right hand, but is pocketing the stuff with his left.
Doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence in said hero, does it?
Alas, morally, he is incorruptible. That's why I had to go for Dent to make the city crumble. He was easy. He may have been a bit tougher, but he got lost just like the rest of the ants. Now, I-uh…I like to take credit for something like that, I really do. However, causing the fall of the great Batman would be like getting a incindiary bomb for Christmas. I need to see how far I can push until he breaks. Beautiful little Rachel was step one, Harvey was two, and turning Gotham against their once beloved hero was three. I wonder what step four will be. As I previously implied, I am the man without a plan. And that's why I'm so much fun.
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{Thanks for reading, I hope you all are excited. But this is the only chapter from his P.O.V. The rest will be narrative. Oh, and no this isn't Beta-ed, and I hardly proof read, I'll make sure to do it next time.}