Prologue

"Wakey, wakey, Mr. J!" came the high voice of Harley Quinn.

The Joker rose in his lowly cell in the now abandoned Arkham Asylum. Ever since Batman defeated him and that Hugo Strange fellow started Arkham City it's gotten a tad bit lonesome in the old place. Ah, but he's got no one to blame but himself, after all, it was his own fault.

"Oh, shut it you," Joker said aloud to the narrator. He rose from his bed and walked over to the mirror, his bleached skin was falling apart. His skin was pealing, he gave out a cough and saw blood. "Harley, it's getting worse..." He coughed again. Harley ran over to Joker with a wet cloth. "I think it's about time we turn ourselves in to Arkham City, eh?"

"Oh, Mr. J are you sayin' we should move to the city? Maybe rent an apartment, we could be like a normal couple!"

"Oh hush, you fool." Joker said, stifling a cough. "I'm saying we should get arrested so that I can have one of our old roomies make me a cure! Perhaps the snow man will help us."

Harley looked a little disappointed, but she smiled anyway and said, "Well, okay. As long as we can bash some heads while we're there!"

"Oh I promise you, my dear, we can bash as many heads as we want there, and we will. Believe me, we will." He started to chuckle, and that chuckle rose into his full crazy laugh, and that laugh led to a hacking dreadful cough. Joker and Harley set out toward Gotham, where cops awaited their arrival...

1

Some miles away in the suburbs of Gotham City lived a young man who went by the name Mark. Mark was 18 years old and had always wanted to journey into the city of Gotham, though his parents had warned him it was much too dangerous. No many how many martial arts school Mark went through his parents never allowed him to go into the city. Mark had all the fighting capabilities of Batman himself but still his parents would not allow it.

Mark was even trained under the mastery of Ra's al Ghul, who trained Batman. But still his parents would not budge, but now that he was 18 he figured it was time for him to move out, start a life of his own. His parents suggested going to college in some other city, somewhere far off from Gotham, like Metropolis, but Mark didn't listen... he should have listened...

Mark was upstairs packing when he heard a loud bang from down stairs, he walked over to the railing of the stairs over looking the front door. A man with a clown mask stood in the doorway holding a pistol, his mother on the floor dead.

"Bastard!" Came the enraged voice of Mark's father and before he even came into view the clown pulled the trigger and Mark heard a grunt and thump.

"No," Mark whispered, and then shouted, "No!"

The clown looked up and saw Mark and aimed his gun and pulled the trigger. As luck would have it, however, the gun jammed. The clown looked down at the gun, then up at Mark, and then he bolted from the house. Mark vaulted over the railing and chased him out. The clown was getting into a beat up car and floored it. Mark got into his father's 1967 Chevy Impala and chased the clown at top speed.

After dodging traffic for 20 minutes they passed a sign that said, "You are now entering Gotham City, home of the Batman." And under that was a spray painted sign that said, "And his bestest friend Joker."

"Well, looks like I got my wish," Mark said, not the least bit happy about being in Gotham. The clown made a right, and it was too late for Mark to turn. Mark took the next right without even slowing down, and when he got to the intersection he saw the clown's car and floored it. He caught the car just in time, he braced himself for the impact and was glad he had his seatbelt on, the car slammed into the clown's and they both went into a full roll. Before Mark got out of the wrecked car he opened up the glove compartment and pulled out his old man's gun.

Mark stumbled out of the car and limped his way toward the clown, who was pulling himself out of the wreck. Mark aimed the gun at the clown as he stood up.

"Please," the clown man said. "Have mercy!"

"Mercy?" Mark asked, snapped. "Mercy? Did you have mercy for my parents when you killed them?"

"Please, it was da Joker, he ordered the hit, nawt me, man. I had no beef wit' your parents, man. Please!"

Mark started to lower the gun, and then there was a gun shot from behind him and the clown man dropped, Mark turned to see a cop holding a pistol, then the man turned his gun around on himself and fired. At that moment swat cars and helicopters came from all around and men jumped out of the cars and slid down ropes from the choppers. They all aimed at Mark with their guns.

"Put the gun on the ground and raise put your hands up," came a projected voice. Mark did as he was asked just as a cop came over and put his hands behind him and handcuffed him. They dragged him to one of the big trucks that was full of other mean looking fellows, they sat Mark down between a man with half his face burned off, and a man who had the distinct resemblance to a penguin. The doors were closed and the room went black...

When Mark came too he was in the middle of a room, laying on his back, and when he sat up he saw a bunch men standing around him, all with clown masks and makeup on. Some had crowbars, others had baseball bats, and few had guns.

"Where am I?" Mark said, throat dry and head sore.

"Why, you're in Joker's FUNLAND my boy!" Came a very funny voice, and Mark looked up to see the man who he had only seen in the papers, the Joker, but there was something off about him. His face wasn't white, it seemed to be peeling. His scar wasn't red like it usually was, and over all he looked less... jokey.

"What's up with your..." Mark started but then he looked beyond Joker to his henchmen, who were shaking their heads and making slashing notions at their necks with their fingers. "your... hideout? I thought your hideouts were usually cheery and colorful?" The henchmen exhaled silently and wiped beads of sweat from their brows.

"Alas," Joker said, pacing the room. "I have not been in the city long enough to decorate. And I fear I may not be here long enough to decorate." He let out a hacking cough and a whimper came from the crowd. Mark looked up to see Harley Quinn, faithful servant to the clown.

"You're sick," Mark observed, despite the warning looks of the henchmen.

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner, what do we got for him, Janice?" Joker said sarcastically.

"Well, no need to be enthusiastic," Mark said with equal sarcasm, the henchmen held their breath and watch Joker, whose green eyes bore into Mark like several novelty knives. Just when Mark was about to die from not breathing Joker let out a great bark of laughter and he continued that laughter until he was coughing more than laughing.

"Oh, my boy," the clown said between coughs. "You are perfect... quite perfect, indeed!"

"Perfect for what?" Mark inquired.

"To be my heir, my boy!"

"Heir?" Mark and Quinn said at the same time, both equally puzzled.

"Yes," Joker said, stifling a cough. "I am not getting any younger, and Harley is barren as the left side of Two-Face's body. I need someone to carry on the clown-based legacy!"

"But puddin'..." Harley started, but Joker gave her a glare.

"Didn't you try this once before?" Mark asked. "You tried to make Robin your sidekick heir kid."

"You watch too much Cartoon Network, kid." Joker said with a cough. "That's Batman Beyond fictional bullshit. I need someone who can fight, but can also crack a joke or two. And as I hear from the Ra's you are quite the fighter, almost as good as the Batman."

Mark snorted, "Please, I could stomp Batman into the dirt."

"No one likes a cocky clown, kid." Joker coughed as he walked over to a wardrobe conveniently placed against the wall, and opened it. He reached in and pulled out a very grim looking suit, and with it a jester's hat. The had had balls with spikes on the points and had spikes jutting from around the base of the hat, it was made of leather. The outfit itself was even better, black and red, it had spikes on the sleeve cuffs and down the spine. It had a belt with a "J" on it and it had all the things the Bat might have; grappling hook, smoke pellets, and a snack compartment. The footwear was a pair of combat boots that ended in a point, a steel toed point, I might add. Joker walked over to Mark and handed it to him.

"For me?" Mark said with a mocking look of longing. "Oh, Jokey, you shouldn't have!"

"Heheheee, just take it, kiddo."

Mark took the costume and went into the bathroom, it stuck his legs into the pants, his arms into the sleeves and zipped up the full body outfit, he stuck the hat on his head and sunglasses came down over his eyes and he could see everything, they were like high definition binoculars. Mark slipped his feet comfortably into the combat boots and wiggled his toes and then pulled on the gloves, which were like combat driver's gloves. He stepped out of the bathroom dressed fully as a jester.

"Kneel, my boy," Joker said, with false nobility and standing straight. Mark knelt and a second later felt a pole on his shoulder. "As the Clown Prince of Crime, I dub thee: The Jester. You may stand."

Mark stood and looked around at all the smiling faces, most of them were painted on but who cares? Mark looked at the pole that had been on his shoulder, it had a little Jester head on the top, Joker handed it to him.

"Your Scepter of Shenanigans," Joker said with a wink and a laughing fit. "Boys," Joker said to the henchmen. "Meet my Sgt. At Arms, The Jester!"

The henchmen cheered wildly, and Mark knew what he was going to do, what he was destined for... and it wasn't what everyone else was thinking...