Sup guys.
I decided to write this as it is Halloween and I thought exploring The Joker's mind was a fitting story for the event.
A personal disclaimer: This is my interpretation of how I think The Joker would act in this sort of situation. Studying Heath's Joker I believe that his character displayed signs of Antisocial Personality Disorder, Schizophrenia, Manic Depression, and that he was a sociopath. I barely touched upon the Soicio and APD aspects in this story but I still think thats what a doctor would probably diagnose him with. Give or take one.
Anyway I hope you enjoy this one-off story and have a very happy Halloween!
I do not own the Dark Knight or any of the characters.
A furious tapping noise filled the empty warehouse, invading every corner, every nook and cranny.
This maddening sound seemed to originate from the only other room within the building, a second story office overlooking the ground floor.
Inside this dilapidated office sat a clown that matched his surroundings. His suit was shabby looking and dirty, smears of red, white and black paint peppered the heavy purple coat and gloves, his green tinged hair greasy and lank. Most disturbing of all was the bone white face of freshly applied makeup, two black holes boring into the center of it and an elongated, red slash of a grin over the mouth
The clown's foot moved up and down incessantly upon the concrete flooring, creating the tapping noise. As he sat unmoving, besides from the foot, his face looked blank, if a bit pained. Overall, on the outside, he looked like could be waiting for a bus, albeit a bit impatiently.
On the inside though, was a completely different story.
Screams and threatening voices sounded from every corner of his mind, telling him things he didn't want to know, things that no one should think.
'These walls would look soooo much better DRENCHED with blood!'
'I'm going to kill that bitch at the bank next time I see her I'm going to slit her jugular and watch her as she bleeds out and squirms at my feet teach her to give me sly looks the fucking bitch'
'This world is a black hole, filled with fake people going to their fake jobs going about their fake fucking business and going back to their fake families at the end of their fake day.'
He didn't understand why the rest of the world didn't want to be like him, he was free. If only they allowed this society they had built for themselves to crumble before him, he could show them the true meaning of blissfully happy.
"I don't understaaand." He moaned out loud.
'They aren't as smart as us.' A sharp whisper sounded in his ear. He twisted quickly clamping a hand down on the offended ear.
"I thought I told youuu." He purred out, "The, uh, docs at Arkham said I shouldn't listen to you anymore."
Silence filled the room.
"Good! Stay away from me!" He shouted out angrily. He sat back straight in his chair, staring at his hands for a few minutes, reverting back into his distorted mind.
Suddenly his entire being was racked with a feeling that penetrated to his very core. He moaned aloud again noisily before growling around him.
"These fucking eyes are watching me again…" he snarled, paranoid. Looking around the empty room he contorted his face into a predatory expression, baring his teeth.
'You know what the Doctors said.' The whispers were back again, not quite next to him but not quite in his mind either.
"I KNOW WHAT THE FUCKING DOCTORS SAID!" He roared. He sat back onto the seat and tried to compose himself, straightening his suit.
"It's aaall in your head." He said spitefully.
"I know they think I'm crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not. I just have… creative tendencies."
He giggled at himself for a while, sitting there, all alone.
He stopped abruptly a few moments later at the sounds of the door opening. He looked across from him expecting to see one of his goons; instead, a tall, burly man was standing in front of the open entry.
The clown's expression went stoic, his mind returning to that of a seven year old. The man in the doorway darted forward quickly, towards the paint clad man, the latter letting out an unholy shriek and covering his head with his arms.
He stayed like that for a good minute, before lowering his purple swathed arms and looking around like a feral animal. There was no tall man with him. The door was closed from his earlier entrance into the room. The tall man wasn't real. Or at least he wasn't anymore.
The clown was breaking out into a cold sweat by now and gritted his teeth together furiously. He started to hit himself in the head with the once protective arms, screaming at himself.
"I AM NOT…" he trailed off and lowered his arms to his lap.
"I am… the sanest person on this god forsaken rock. Everybody else is just toooo crazy to see it."
'They will pay for what they did to you.' The voice was back, louder than ever in the space between his mind and his ear. This time he did not discourage it. He welcomed it.
"They will… pay."
Thanks for reading, I would really appreciate it if you took a minute to review this, and give me some constructive critisism.