Well I finally got this chapter done with. It's shorter than my other ones and sort of a total trip fest. I'm so tired. Hjgrmaich[0rgapgha8m9r Oh just go read
Disclaimer: hmrqg,h young justice hr,qe5 ,g don't own ghs,iqp h; yah ghtvwioyoh
When Robin next opened his eyes all he saw was white. A blinding sea of endless white, like a polar bear blinking in a snowstorm. The first thing that popped into Robin's head was that he had died. Why else would everything be white? Maybe the dream machine had malfunctioned and put poison in his blood stream instead. Maybe he was trapped in some sort of endless limbo. Robin groaned, boy did he hates things like this that he didn't understand. He was the partner of world's greatest detective for G-d's sake!
When Robin finally decided to turn his head and look around his white vicinity, he realized he was not alone. There was a smudge of color that he had to squint to see in the blinding white. He started to walk toward it, craving company in such a lonely place as this. But as he got closer and smudged started taking shape, he conceived that being alone might now be so bad.
The spot of color ended up being none other than the Joker himself. Robin smacked himself on the forehead and thought, "Well hello Robin, you did go into his dream! Of course he's freaking here!" He then shivered slightly, realizing that he was starting to turn into Megan. But what freaked him out even more was what the Joker was doing. He was sitting down cross legged on the ground holding a paint pallet in his left hand. In his right hand was a paint brush which he was using to paint on the stark white floor. But the only color he had on his pallet was black, a dark, midnight black that seemed to pop out of its white canvass.
Suddenly Joker stopped in mid stroke and looked down at his pallet. "Oh pooh, it seems I've run out of paint. I'd better gets some more or I'll never be able to finish my master piece." Joker then pulled the same gleaming silver knife Robin had just seen moments earlier out of his jacket. Before robin could even blink, the Joker had raked the knife across his own arm, drawing blood, but this wasn't any ordinary blood. Out of Joker's arm flowed a river of dark black blood. Joker let it drip on to his pallet for a few seconds before casually continuing with his painting, as though nothing had taken place.
Robin almost gagged. That was disgusting, was Joker even human, or was it just an illusion created by the dream world? Robin shook his head to clear his thoughts. He continued watching the Joker, mesmerized by the painting's progression.
When Joker completed the last stroke, it dawned on Robin what it was. Joker had painted a giant bat onto the snow white floor. Joker then stood up and began walking around his painting; hand on his chin as if to analyze his work.
After studying it from all possible angles, Joker grumbled to himself, "No it's not yet complete! It's missing a little something, a little final tidbit to make the piece really tick. But what could it be!" The Joker then slowly turned his head in Robin's direction, as if noticing his presence for the first time.
With long, purposeful strides, the Joker began to make his way over to Robin. Robin knew he had to run, he had to move. The clown's intentions were anything but good. He doubted he was going to be invited to a celebratory tea party, but he couldn't move to run away! He legs felt as though they had been bolted to the floor. All he could do was stand and watch the Joker make his way toward him, paint brush outstretched. When he reached the frozen bird, he latched his hand onto Robin's arm and began walking calmly back toward the black spot in the white floor.
Robin felt his feet start walking cooperatively with the Joker's. Why was he doing this? He urged his body to stop, but to no avail. It was as if he body had a mind of its own. When they finally made it to the painting, Joker let go of Robin's hand and pulled his knife back out from the folds of his jacket. He licked he own black blood off the knife before turning toward Robin.
On the inside, Robin was screaming at the top of his lungs, while on the outside his body remained completely still and apathetic. All he could do was watch as the knife came toward his chest in slow motion. He watched it pierce his skin and go straight into his heart. He felt nothing, but he could see he blood start flowing out as the knife was removed. His blood splashed all over the black bat, covering it in dots of crimson.
He fell backwards in slow motion, arms and leg outstretched as if to make one last snow angle in the white abyss of a room. Staring up at the never ending white sky, he left that dream forever.
The Joker smiled down at his work of art. It was finally done. His piece was finally perfect. On the ground was a bleeding bat lying next to a bleeding bird. Joker's dream was complete. He plunged his blade back into his body, leaving a dark black spot behind in a now empty world.
It's done. Now I can sleep. Please Review. I was told if I asked nicely things would happen! If it means anything, I would also please like a puppy. I mean…I did say please. ;)