Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight, or the Joker (no matter how awesome... I'm so sad), and I'm not making any money. No matter how cool that would be.
Genius
Flawless. The psychology and engineering of my attempts to turn Gotham's citizens to anarchy had been nothing short of a triumph; until now. I hadn't expected the Lieutenant, who had now been promoted Co-missioner, to get in the way. He should have been dead. I would know, I killed him. At least, that's what he made everyone believe. Now, I was locked up in his lovely interrogation room, (although, it really wasn't at all lovely, considering it was stark white. Really, a pop of color like purple would be great).
Not to worry though! I never planned things out. No, I left that pitiful attempt to more influential people. You know, the ones that are always focused on the right thing, the good of the people, the safe and sensible way to handle things. Like Harvey Dent, Gotham's white knight. He schemed, he plot, and for that, he was like a rag doll. Easy as cake to manipulate. It really was laughable, I never seem to get tired of some people! Reminiscent of the Bat-Man. Oh ho ho! Harvey Dent may be as bendable as putty, but the Bat seemed almost incorruptible. That was why he was so entertaining! Self-righteous, humble, dignified, symbol of good…, after all, opposites do attract. Ha! It doesn't matter how horrible my jokes are, I'll still laugh. After all, it is the ultimate medicine. Though it always depends on how and why you use it. Anyway, back to the Bat! He may be good and everything, but he doesn't realize how alike we really are. We're alone, we're both freaks, and we both wear a mask.
I look into the bulletproof glass surrounding part of the room. A mask; chalk white paint covering my face, though the nights action packed escapades had rubbed off some of the white. Very light, olive skin peeked through in some places. Black charcoal, surrounding two eyes from my eyebrow to the highest part of my cheekbone, making my truly brown eyes look black as night. Finally, my lips, painted blood red and stretching from the bumpy, malformed corners, turning upward in a malicious sneer. The red gave the illusion of a smile, even when I wasn't smiling. Though, at the moment, I was. My yellow teeth shone even more rotted against the bright red lips, and my scars felt taut and looked even more wrinkled against the pressure of my large smile. The reflection was menacing, even the so- called fearless humans in Gotham stared into a face that utterly horrified them. It is who I am, just a face that evokes fright.
Fear, it became my weapon. I turned fear on the fearful, making them weak and utterly dispensable at my crafty hands. Fear brought pain, and I absolutely loved pain. Whether inflicted on me, or on my prey. I don't even remember my name, the name I had discarded happily. I don't even remember the true story of how I got my beautiful scars, having made up ingenious stories for so long. Whomever I once was, is lost. Replaced by someone better, someone ready to watch the world burn. I am the Joker. Tell me, have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?
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Alright, somewhat random and maybe lame, but whatever. I may be thinking of making a Dark Knight/ Batman Begins story anyway, so if anyone thinks I should, let me know. I'm open for ideas!