A/N: I love to challenge myself with characters and recently I've been looking a little more into one which I feel might be the most challenging ever –Heath's portrayal of the Joker. I love to delve into the fundamental development of the characters I write for, so I'm going to explore this iconic villain, all of his inner workings and all the ways I can possibly develop him to his fullest extent.

I invite you to take on this journey with me, to witness if I can believably evolve him, while still holding true to who he is. Definitely a huge endeavor, and so I'd love for you to help guide me along through this process ;) I'm a romance writer primarily, and so this story will be centered on that element, which is perhaps the most difficult part of all of this. Is the Joker even capable of love? This is a question I intend to explore, and I'm eagerly looking forward to discovering the answer along with all of you.

I've done some research on the sociopathic disorder (I know it's been debated whether or not he's truly a sociopath or a psychopath, but for this to even be remotely possible, I decided on the former. I also do see it as being more probable of Heath's portrayal, mainly because I believe his madness was more a cause of his environment rather than genetics). I also use the MBTI/Enneagram theory to shape both his character type and the OC. I hope you enjoy the first chapter and please let me know what your thoughts are as it progresses.

Disclaimer: I do not own this world or any of the masterful DC Comics characters.

Unsmile

Chapter I: Painting Faces

"I got so used to the changes
Moving from stranger to strangest
You should face it
I am crazy"

-Jhene Aiko

{.+.}

One hand shifted the scratch paper slightly as the other ran several, vigorous lines in streaks of vivid gray. Her head bent a little closer, eyes narrowing in concentration. For a moment, she was able to escape the noise and harsh atmosphere around her –escape into nothing but her imagination.

…

Slamming the cracked mirror closed over the cabinet with a haphazard hand, a set of dark eyes lifted to behold his broken reflection, lips smacking and smirking in observation before that same haphazard hand swiped a sloppy layer of white and began slathering it over the jagged contours of his face.

…

Substituting the lead of her pencil for a delicate finger, she began to shade the outlines, offering a little more depth to the image on the paper. She followed pre-determined shapes and skeletal strokes as she tossed her head to move her bangs from where they'd fallen over her eyes, the blue of them fixed intently on her task.

…

Flinging some of the excess, thick paint from his fingers, he moved to the next color, squinting one eye as he lifted the container and frowning at what little remained of the inky black. But, with a harsh shrug, he carelessly slathered it around and over his eyes, watching the image take form—his personal masterpiece.

…

After the shading, she reclaimed her pencil and began to make a few remaining adjustments and touch-ups, watching the drawing come together and solidify. A nameless portrait with abstract features, a personification of discontent; nothing but a creative outlet for what she was currently feeling.

…

And last but certainly not least, the man tossed the black aside and reached almost hungrily for the tube of red. He squeezed it directly over the disfiguring scars that ran up from his mouth, stopping over the maniacal set of his lips themselves. He mercilessly coated it all until he was left with nothing but the welcome sight of his clownish grin.

…

With a sigh, she set the pencil down and lifted her head to observe the finished picture. Her eyes ran up and along each line, seeing imperfections here, and areas for improvement there. She felt her discontent returning, the reprieve disappearing.

…

He lifted his head, gave it a swift shake, hair disheveling as he tore himself away from that mirror and reached for his coat, gleeful steps carrying the Joker to some activity which would appease his endless need for chaos—the endless need for some sort of stimulant.

…

"Lucy!" A loud voice called, and the girl was immediately jolted from her observation, instead looking up to see the angry set of her boss' expression. "Are you just going to sit around, or are you actually going to be doing some work today?"

Lucy frowned and slowly stood from her chair, already aware that responding to an accusation like that was useless. It was 8:00 at night, the rush long having past. Right now, she was just waiting on the last of her tables to leave so that she could add up her tips and go home. But, the guy was one of the most unreasonable people in existence, so she kept her mouth shut.

Looking to her drawing, she shook her head before reaching out and crumpling it into a tight ball, making sure to toss it into the trash as she turned to idly grab a rag and re-clean her unused tables. Glancing up, she watched as her asshole of a manager lumbered off to his office, where he'd just be sitting on his lazy ass for the next couple of hours.

The noise and harshness of this place returned in full, as she looked around the room. Crooks of all types frequented this bar, which was so conveniently placed right smack in the middle of the Narrows. But, it was within walking distance of where she lived, convenient and with pretty good pay, all things considered.

She just had to save up enough to get herself the hell out of this place, move inland and live amongst some normal people. The endless crude comments and abrasive behavior of the people around here could get pretty wearisome after a while.

She'd heard so many stories of young girls being mugged, raped and even murdered, and she wondered if her luck could stay with her long enough for her to leave the decaying neighborhood behind. It was pretty much an everyday worry in the back of her mind, the horror of those thoughts making it difficult to even sleep sometimes.

But, she wasn't alone and was never allowed to walk home by herself either. Her older brother had made it his job to accompany her and had even staked his claim to the couch in the living room of her one bedroom apartment in exchange for helping out with groceries.

Unlike her though, he had no intention of leaving the Narrows at all. He always told her that business was too good, his cliental built up after several years and in continuation of the legacy their dead beat of a father had left for him as a dealer of assorted drugs.

She hated that he couldn't leave it behind, but there was absolutely no changing his mind either. Argument after argument and he continued to stick with his stubborn ways. He always believed he was in the right, and she was so strongly opinionated that she just couldn't help but call him out on that.

One time, the argument had even gotten so bad that she'd thrown an iron at him, though it missed him completely, something she was very grateful for now. It'd taken her awhile to move past her temper issues, but as the years wore on, she felt that it was becoming an easier thing to overcome. He really did just always know exactly how to push her buttons though.

Looking up at the TV, she watched as the reporter was informing them of yet another building that had been set on fire in the area –one of several arson-suspected crimes. She felt the familiar urge in her stomach then, the urge for escape. But, as much as it disturbed her, her eyes stayed locked on that screen, watching that building burn, letting it fuel her ambition.

"Hey!" A gruff voice called, and she tore her eyes from the screen to see her customer waving an empty glass impatiently.

Lucy muttered a swift, but unrepentant 'sorry' to him, before turning to grab him another drink. It was going to be awhile still until she could leave and head home, and that thought was kind of depressing.

When she turned to head back to the guy's table, she handed the beer to him, taking his empty glass and noticing how aged and worn his face was up close. Would her brother look like this someday? Years of the criminal life showing physically, leaving traces of so many awful chapters in his personal story.

Lucy stepped away, her thoughts dragging her mind off somewhere else again. She looked to the window as sparse drops of rain randomly splattered the glass, and watched as the veins of water trickled down, her hand suddenly feeling warm with the desire to recreate that effect on paper.

There was some sort of beauty to it, and that observation re-confirmed her most fundamental belief –that even in a place like this, there was beauty to be found somewhere. In all her life, within everything that had led her here, she'd managed to hold onto that belief and was determined to never let it go. It was something she needed for those times when she wasn't always so grounded in reality, when her emotions would get the best of her, when she'd feel like she was losing her identity.

And so it became her identity, which was something she'd been trying to shape for as long as she could remember. Her interest in art had helped with that. It outwardly revealed to her the things she couldn't always sort out for herself.

The rest of the evening passed slowly, and it was only when the clock was nearing the numerical '11', that Lucy was told to leave. She made the call to her brother and waited in the dark, empty interior of the bar before she spotted him outside.

Jumping up from her spot on one of the tables, she stepped out from the worn out place and shut the rickety, wooden door behind her, the cool night surrounding her and re-awakening that primal fear of all things lingering around in the dark.

After habitually looking up to see that the establishment's 'Ace Note' neon sign was off, Lucy turned and offered a half-smile to her drug dealer of a brother.

"Hey, Len," she said in a tired voice.

He just jerked a thumb behind him, his mouth showing his jagged teeth as he curtly said, "let's go."

She followed behind him, watching as Len walked the streets without concern, his stride so comfortable in this place. She was really the only one who ever used his given name too, as everyone else referred to him by his street name: 'Lucky'.

Apparently, it'd come from way back in his High School days, where he'd reminded people of a Leprechaun both in appearance and in profession. He often liked to use the Lucky Charms slogan for his assorted goods.

'They're magically delicious!' was something she'd overheard more than once.

And as far as his appearance, well, she could definitely see why people thought it. He was lanky and even a little impish looking, a troublemaker to his core. He had her same coloring of blue eyes and sandy-colored hair and so, on him, it just added to the whole…rascally effect.

"Oh, hey," Len's steps slowed as he matched pace with her. "Guess what?"

Lucy rolled her eyes and sighed before looking over at him, never really liking where that phrase usually led. "What?"

"I might be goin' on a little break from the drug trade," he chuckled. "Thought you'd be happy to hear that."

There was a brief excitement that Lucy felt, before it quickly left her. She'd gotten her hopes up so many times already, and at least this time he was being honest in saying that it was only a 'break'. "Really?" She said flatly.

Besides, the way he chuckled inspired a flare of anger to shoot through her chest. Did he think that her worrying over his lifestyle was funny?

"Yep," he nodded, looking ahead. "Got another job offer, and the pay is killer. My friend hooked me up. He got wind of some spots opening up after some bank robbery downtown."

"What's the job?" Lucy asked, feeling a dread start to creep its way through her frustration with him.

"Bounty hunting," he looked at her. "Working with a local thug. Don't worry," he held up his hands at Lucy's very concerned expression. "It's outside of the mob, apparently."

"And that's supposed to comfort me?" She asked, barely containing her rage. Did he really expect her to feel relieved that he was stepping away from drugs to this?

"What?" He asked. "It's an easy job. Secure. It'll be just like Jango Fett."

Lucy just looked away then, glaring deeply and mouth setting in a firm line. He was going to get himself killed, and there was nothing she could do about it. The only real thing she could do would be to turn him over to the cops, but each time she even so much as considered it, the words her father had drilled into their upbringing would come to mind. All the warnings and mistrust against the corruption of law enforcement. She'd sworn that she would only use it as a last resort, if things ever got really bad, but…she also knew that Len would never forgive her for the betrayal.

In that moment though, she felt so angry and so afraid that she didn't feel she could even look at him without crying in frustration, and she hated crying. Hated how weak it made her feel. She always felt that she was being even partially irrational, not that such a thing really served to spare her on most occasions.

They walked the rest of the way to the apartment in silence and, once there, Lucy rushed up the stairs, unlocked the door and made a mad dash for her room before the idiot could say anything to her. She slammed her door shut and then heard her brother huff loudly before turning on the TV.

Placing a hand over her eyes as she squeezed them shut, Lucy breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm herself. She felt so helpless, everything about this situation completely out of her control and giving her an extremely bad feeling.

Her hand drifted down to cover her mouth as she shook her head, taking another sec to try and get a handle on herself. She moved both hands through her hair and exhaled loudly as she continued to blink her eyes, willing those tears away.

Crying wouldn't fix anything.

She looked to the canvas resting on a make-shift easel by her bed, and paused before stomping towards it, lifting a brush, and furrowing her brows as her lips slightly pouted in determination. She dipped the tip of the brush into whatever color was nearby and unleashed several angry strokes on the white, releasing her frustration.

Lucy didn't really know how long she sat there just stroking and stroking until she could breathe easier, but eventually she found herself sitting back to observe what she'd left behind.

Red, orange, black, yellow…all strewn across like some angry sunset with a very faint shape of a face swirled within. There was always a face; a face for every emotion she used her instruments to discharge.

Tossing the brush into a cup of water, Lucy just sat there staring at what she'd created. It didn't make any sense, there was no technique, but…it was somehow perfect. Even more perfect than that drawing she'd tried so hard on earlier that evening.

However, the most important thing was that she felt a little better; had managed to calm down, even if the worry was still very much there.

Standing, she listened for the TV and, hearing nothing, she cautiously stepped to the other side of the room to her door, where she peered out slowly and sighed as she saw Len sleeping.

Crossing her arms, she made her way across the dark distance towards him and shook her head before lifting the blanket from the floor and laying it over him carefully. She observed his face as another worried frown took hers before she turned and then paused as something on the coffee table caught her eye where his wallet sat.

Leaning down, she lifted the single playing card curiously before turning it over as confusion set in. She tried to make sense of why her brother would have it, but no immediate answer came to mind until…

'Working with a local thug,' he had said.

Lucy Lockett's hand tightened over the card face, over the image of the jester depicted there. She'd heard several rumors swirling around the bar about some new loon hiding out in the neighborhood. No one seemed to really take him seriously, but he'd done at least enough to earn himself a little gossip.

Was he the one her brother was going to work for? This 'Joker' person?

{.+.}

To be continued…

***I went semi-canon with Lucy's brother. He's one of the thugs who brings the Joker to Gambol. Played by Bronson Webb. And the visual reference I'm using for Lucy is Britt Robertson :)