The escape

Scarecrow woke up to a stinging pain in his back. He was confused. Until he heard a familiar laugh that he heard from the hall ways. Then he soon realized that he was strapped to a bed. Arkham. He was still for a second…then screamed at the top of his lungs until hid entire chest felt like it was going to be engulfed by flames. Then he met the tickle of a needle digging through his arm. The whole place twirled, until it slowly sank within a dark void. The laughter came closer, and closer. It soon became as loud as Scarecrows scream. The doctors were getting really…really tired of this routine.

"Will you please do the honors of closing his cursed mouth up?" A weary, flamboyant guard said in an annoyed tone. The doctor walking next to him gave a confused look.

"We already gave him three doses, with his weight so light, that's all most fatal! If we give him another one, he might over dose." The guard rolled his eyes.

"So….doc…..how's your you?" Every one almost jumped when they were startled with Joker's voice.

"Shut-up clown, your' lucky that your still breathing! A lot of people want to kill you right now." Another guard said. Everyone including Joker was referring that an hour ago Joker ripped off someone's ear off. Joker continued to talk even though his speech was slurred. "Oh. You were buddies with that guy? Oh no! That was so rude of me! Not!" then his laughter filled the halls again. It was not a pleasant sound to hear in four o'clock in the morning. Then Joker turned to the flamboyant guard "I bet I can make you say thank-you." The guard gave Joker a dirty look.

"I'll never say thank you to such a degenerate. Never. Not some psycho maniac clown that finds pleasure in killing people. I'll never say that. You have done nothing to help us."

Joker rolled his eyes and gleefully smiles out of pure annoyance.

"Oh yes I have….If I wasn't here, or if Twofer's over there wasn't here either, people would forget what evil meant. The walking green housed Poison Ivy, the giant ice-cream maker Mr. Freeze, The talking penguin, the walking potato sack, the copy cat Riddler, and a bunch of other people including me would be out of a job! That's not good in the economy at all! As the great William Shakespeare said…an over fill of good converts to bad. Hehehahahaha."

Joker's mind was literally spinning. He wasn't in the mood of being in Arkham right now. The guard that was weary was daydreaming about getting a new job, were he can raise his upcoming kid properly and get enough money to get a decent house for his wife. Then his day dreams came to an end when he tripped over a long, thin, purple leg. He crashed down, and as soon as the other came to help him up. Joker rolled on the floor. When he came back up, instead of his arms behind his back, they were in front of him.

"TA-DA!" The Joker reached for the pistol on the guard's belt. All hell broke out in a matter of minutes. All of them were shot dead, except the flamboyant guard that stood to his feet after being tripped. He did it slowly, knowing that the clown prince of crime was waiting to shoot him down. Then he tripped again and was now face to face with the clown. Or some people can say he was face to face with a gun.

"N-no! Pease I have a wife! A pregnant wife! Don't shoot! For the love of god don't shoot!"

He winced the last three words since his voice was overcome by fear. Joker smiled. His red flesh spreading across his cheeks. It was a horrifying site.

"Oh! So you haved an pregnant wife?" The guard managed to muster out a yes.

"And how long until her's due? I mean she's due."

"In about five months..."

"Oh, I must ask, is it a boy? Girl?"

"I-it's supposed to be a b-Boy." Joker was amused, and he started to clap randomly.

"Ha-ha! You have it all, my friend! A wife, a boy that's coming up... ...So…..what….in the world are you doing in such a place like this?"

"I couldn't get a good job. You know, flunked…." The guard was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the clown knowing his personal life. That's if he ever felt comfortable in the asylum at all. Joker pulled something out of a hidden slot in the sole of his shoe. At first it appeared to be a weapon, but how much damage could you do with green paper? On second thought…he did manage to kill six guys with a plastic lunch tray…and let's not forget the magic trick. The guard flinched as the Joker flashed it in front of his face. He was too afraid to look at whatever he was holding. But a part of him was dying to take a peek.

It was a million bucks. The joker, THE JOKER, was holding a million dollars in front of the guard. This had to be a really bad joke. Without asking the Joker slipped the bill into the guard's front pocket.

"W –why I thought…" Joker interrupted him

"Well then you thought wrong Mr.…." He looked at his name tag. "White. Mr. White You thought wrong Mr. Thong…..that just sounded wrong. Hey! That all rhymes! Sorry, since I can't talk right….I got injected by that mystery serum a thousand times. Now if you would excuse me, I have an appointment to make with the Batman." He sighed as he simply made his way out by shooting every one. Surprisingly, over the loud booming of the cheering of some of the inmates, the guard drew a thank you under his breath. It felt awkward to say such a pleasant quote to such a horrible man, but, he gave him something that would bring wonders to his life. Then out of nowhere a gun-shot was heard, and the guard felt a digging pain in his gut. He looked up, and saw the gun in front of his face. And it shot again. "Ha-ha! I made you say thank you!" Then his laughter filled the halls again.

No sight of him.

"Repeat! The Joker has broken out of Arkham Island! Eleven reported dead! I repeat-" Batman turned off his radio. Joker was starting to give him a headache. His crimes were appearing more frequently, and more deadly. Last week he blew up a high school sky high. When Batman asked him why he did it, he said "Don't you get it? HIGH school. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!" Four hundred out of the eight hundred school student died. At least eighty were severally injured. Then his thoughts were brought back to the world, as he heard a familiar, annoying, and harsh voice.

Psycho circus

I'll tell you all a story about the Joker and the thief and the Knight

He started to walk faster and more in a violent tone as he got closer to Joker. The smile that haunts Bruce and keeps him up at night crept up on the clowns face. As Batman pinned Joker to a nearby brick wall, Harley decided to kick Batman into the Joker's face. Joker taught Harley to do this years ago. Harley would kick Batman into Joker and he would lift up his knee and shove it into his stomach, or a better more sensitive spot a little lower than his stomach. This time he kicked him in the lower area.

Batman had the normal reaction of getting kicked in the crotch, but he was up and running the next second later. He jumped on to a dumpster and landed on Joker while he was running. They both dropped to the floor and collided into each other and sure enough they were pounding each other. Of course batman hade the advantage due to his bulging muscel

He heard a loud cracking. It lasted forever, and the sound was as effective as the chilled air stunned an average human being. An average, boring, pall human being. He violently jerked forward and a scarlet puddle formed in front of both them. Joker looked down, for only one second did his eyes look…..sane. IT looked as if he just stole them from a random man off the street. The next second turned them into those painfully scared eyes into the usual look of insanity. Slowly, his blood stained smile curved up, his teeth glistened red-stained light from the lonely light post. He began to laugh. Batman didn't know why. He laughed. The knight did not know why. More blood than usual came lashing out of his mouth.

"I….have finally…succeeded…." He managed to gurgle out. Batman released his hold and

"All these years it took you, your rage, you –gah- you finally let it consume you

Batman was bewildered, and since he didn't have the patience to try to understand the Joker, he really wanted to just beat the humor out of him, but something was holding him back.

His laughter died down, and his smile faded away, and his eyes lids fell, serving as a peaceful disguise to hide what lay beneath them. There's been so many times, where he has tried and gave his best effort to follow the insane jester down the rabbit hole. Every attempt he gives, he thinks he got him all figured out. And then, like a wrenched curse god snatches the explanation away. So instead of giving another attempt to understand him he kicked him hard in the ribs. Then Harley crept closer to the Joker, not care if Batman saw her or not. Her blue orbs widened, and began to fill with water of sorrow.

She mumbled something to herself, Batman tried to pull up Harley and put her in the car, but despite his built body and strength, she resisted. Her body was still and the only thing that appeared to be moving was the tears running down her cheeks. Batman gave another attempt to pull her up but she did the same thing except she screamed. Oh what a horrible screeching, chilling, stunning scream it was. It was the same type of scream Batman's mother delivered right when her husband got shot. That horrible, fearful, haunting scream.

She was shacking violently."Mr. J? P-p-pudden?" She got closer.

"JOKER!"

The voice was carried out through the entire street as if demons where whispering the same words over and repeatedly through the alley, and batman's mind. And soon the whole city of Gotham. Batman's mind clicked at what the Joker said. Now he realized what he'd done. He'd punctured his lungs.

When a Puppet master is gone

They advanced their straightjackets, and Harley couldn't get out of hers. Her tear stained face was about to burst into sorrow again, but she'd find that her throat was to dry and her eyes where urging her to stop because they felt so bruised they wanted to sink back into her skull. She knew her body wanted to sleep and couldn't take much more of this torture dealing with the horrid fluorescent lights. However Harley's mind didn't care.

She had no purpose in the world anymore, no authority, no power, no fun, and no soul mate. No Joker. It's been three weeks since his death. Three tortuous weeks. They put her in Arkham . In a solitary confinement cell (Since she shoved a rat down a guard's throat) and she was so tired of the darkness. A colorful lively jack-in-the-box would be a sight for sore eyes. She knew that would never come to meet her eyes again. Not after today she won't.

She gave her wicked smile as the guard came closer to her. Today was going to be her last day in the solitary confinement 'cell'. The guard lifted her to her feet, since her fabulous muscles have turned into jell-o over the past weeks. She held her head down until \the guard gently un did her jacket. Then like a rapid puppet, her head lifted up and she did the highest back flip the guard has ever seen. By the element of surprise, she kicked her in the head, and pulled out her gun from the tight grip of the holster. She has had a lot of fun over the years, she thought to herself.

"A puppet can't do much when the master is gone….now can it Pinocchio..."

"Hush little baby don't say a word…" She lifted up her gun "Day's going buy you a mocking bird," She cocked the gun."And if that mocking bird don't sing." She put her hand gently, but firmly on the trigger of the gun.

"Harl gonna to put it out of its misery." Her playful face showed once more and seemed to have a pleasant glow. Then the glow faded immediately after the crash of a bullet went deep into her skull. The glow was replaced with a chilled bone white appearance that threatened the once playful childish structure she had. Blood was splattered everywhere. Soon a red fountain formed. A former patent appeared. The pattern of the blood looked exactly like the ink blot he just saw a moment ago.

"Another….pretty…. smiley face…"

Life is a box a chocolates

Nothing. Absolutely nothing could inferiorities him more than the sound. That drenched in lifeless sound that lingers around every corner of Gotham. That one trademark of his once greatest figure he has come to hate for a long time, too long. Too long for what happened, for what outcome that has been engraved deep inside his soul. The very core of his goddamn soul. Every day, he hears it, he suspects it, and he runs from it. But not from the source that it once came from. No, that source fell and sank to the bottomless pits of Hell. He was starting to wonder if that one who fallen has taken him along with himself. He felt as if the demons only existed here, instead of in hell. This was only current because the Jester died. That sound, he hears it again. Again. Always. It used to be a sound of delightfulness, and happiness. Now the Joker has turned it into the most haunting, lingering wave of recognition that Batman had to tolerate for the rest of his days. Until he died. On September 27th, approximately at 12:34 pm, at age 68. Let the new games linger.