So here I am, waiting to die.
Don't mind much. Didn't have much to live for anyway. I avenged Goldie's death. I stood face-to-face with the bastards responsible and I sent them kicking and screaming straight to Hell. When they strap me into that chair, the scum who run this city will know who I was and what I did. They'll thank whatever god they pray to that I'm finally gone and I'll be laughing my ass off, knowing that. Aside from that, I don't have much in the way of entertainment.
I figured the rest of my eighteen months were gonna be pretty quiet. I should've known I wouldn't be that lucky. It wasn't even an entire week that I was on Death Row that the little psycho snuck in. I don't even know how. The pen is pretty secure most of the time. Anyway, the guards usually bring me lunch and slide it under the bars. On that day, I watched a guard unlock my cell and waltz right in. I knew instantly that something was up. I figured that the Roarke family didn't want to wait for me to be fried and decided to carry it out themselves. The guard kept his head down, his face hidden behind the shadow of his hat. He set the tray on my bed and turned to leave. I started to get that cold feeling in my gut that lets me know things ain't right.
Then the guy spun around, pulled something out of his pocket, and came right for me. I snagged his wrist and noticed that it was a syringe filled with... God only knows. I wasn't waiting around to find out what it was. He raised his head, giving me a good look at that ugly mug of his. His skin was as pale as a corpse. His lips were dark red and curled up in a sickening grin. His hair was falling down in bright green locks over a pair of crazy, wild eyes.
"Don't be afraid," the lunatic cackled, "It's only a little prick."
"I don't care what you got in your pants, pal."
He snagged the tray with his free hand, dumping hot grease in my face. I was blinded for a second and caught the edge of the metal tray across my forehead. I didn't let go for nothing. This guy was crazy enough to sneak into my cell and try to stab me so I decided to show him that I had my own brand of crazy. I grabbed for my bed sheet. I was blind but that didn't mean that I didn't have a feel for my own room. I pulled it over his head, wrapping him nice and tight. Then I tossed `im over my shoulder. I could see enough to spot the opened door of my cell. That scrawny twerp was still jerking around and I swore I heard him giggling. I gave him a good toss through my cell door, feeling a great deal of satisfaction hearing him hit the bars across the way.
I rubbed the slop from my eyes and when I could see straight, I noticed that the guy had high-tailed it out of there. Another guard suddenly showed up with a rifle in hand, "The Hell's going on here?" I knew he wouldn't believe me so I just shrugged and played dumb. He locked the door and the warden has made plans to keep me locked up in another cell with extra guards. Not that it matters to me, none.
When everything calmed down, I realized who I had dealt with: the Joker. Damn. With everything happening in my life at the time, I had almost forgotten about Batman and his old dancing partners. Last I heard, Bats had gotten everyone but him. I had no idea what his plan was and that's probably for the best. Maybe it's a good thing I won't be around much longer. This town's about to get a whole helluva lot worse.