Hi! So this is based on a prompt over on the Young Justice Anon Meme, which was basically this:
"YJ encounter a new villain, Joker Jr. He's violent and crazy and pretty much a younger version of the Joker. And the team has lot of trouble dealing with him. After all, none of them have ever had to fight someone like the Joker before. Except for Robin, but he never seems to be around whenever this guy shows up.
Robin, meanwhile, keeps waking up with strange injuries and killer headaches, unable to remember what happened the night before. He thinks the work's just getting to him, so he's going on patrol less, and hanging with the team less because of it. But the headaches and blackouts are getting worse, and then he wakes up somewhere other than his own bed and there's blood everywhere and, okay, maybe this is serious and he needs to tell Batman."
Prologue.
He sticks to the shadows at night, prowling the streets.
His body functions well, his reflexes are near perfect.
His mind operates as fluently as it does during the day.
He waits, perched upon the highest point in Gotham he can find.
At some point, he got bored of just sitting around.
So he took to exploring the dark, litter filled streets. For once, there was no blaring of cop cars rushing to a scene. No, it was a quiet night in Gotham.
One of the quietest he'd ever witnessed.
He smirked, despite himself.
There's always quiet before a storm. Everybody, including he, knew that.
It was when he turned down the backstreet of 5th that he saw her.
She was cold, shivering in the small breeze that flitted around.
How foolish she was, going out in this weather without a coat.
How foolish she was for going out, even.
His pace sped up, yet it was quiet as ever. She didn't hear him, no one ever heard him.
She jumped out of her skin when he suddenly appeared next to her, her mouth open wide in a silent scream of terror.
Silent, because he currently had his hand crushed around her windpipe.
It was all a blur after that.
A very addicting, intoxicating blur.
His knife was out, and she was thrown hard against the cold floor.
He didn't wince at the brutal smack that accompanied her hitting the street; to hurt her was his intent.
Wide eyed, she scuttled backwards in a futile attempt to escape.
It was pitiful, really.
He closed the gap between them once more, crouching down so that he was at her level.
His gloved hand struck out, slapping her across the cheek before roughly grabbing her chin, forcing her to face him.
He loved the look of pure terror in her eyes. Relished in it, even.
His tongue flicked out of his mouth, licking his lips. Not that she could see that; no, all she could see was the white of his eyes. And red. She could see a whole lot of red.
The smell of blood was thick, a rusty component. It lined the walls of the alley, pooling at his feet.
He looked down at his victim. Her eyes were open; cold, dark and motionless.
Just like the rest of her body.
The dress was torn, ripped from her frame in more places than one.
Blood had seeped through the remaining cotton, staining the once fluffy pink garment a vicious maroon red.
Her mouth was slack, marred. Thick, red liquid ran down her face, covering her teeth. Red on white. She was smiling.
A perfect combination, a perfect woman.
He felt giddy with delight just looking at her. His world spun and his body swayed. A hand shot out, stabilising him against the brick wall of the alley.
The moon overhead was full, shining down on the face that was so expertly covered.
All of him was covered, he would leave no trace.
His shoulders shook, his body trembling.
It wasn't from fear. Oh no; this… this was excitement. Pleasure. He was having fun; way too much fun.
It was time to retire for the night, to head home before anybody noticed.
He checked his watch.
Quarter to four, it said.
Turning on his heel, the masked fellow returned to the shadows, heading towards his motorcycle parked conveniently at the corner of the street, all the while whistling a low tune.
He kicked the stand, revved the engine, and took off into the night, giggling.
His laugh echoed through the streets of Gotham City, waking children from their slumber and sending horribly twisted images into the sleeping minds of adults.
When morning came, they would all know who had been in that alley way that night.
At least, they'd think they knew.
But reality was a warped place, after all.
Almost as warped as the Red Hood himself.
I can't say when this will be updated, probably not now for a couple of weeks, but I promise that it will! (After Friday I will have loads of free time to work on it, I just really wanted to get this out though!)
Thanks for reading, and don't forget to Leave a Review!