Never too Serious - (DCverse, SI)

It all takes a bad day.

This is a sentence I heard so many times used by the Joker through either comics, games, and movies. It is supposed to be as symbolic as 'With Great Powers come Great Responsibilities', but I just never got a grasp of it as many would.

I saw none of the 'flair' trying to capitalize on the same mythological nature within the comics. I never saw the one aspect of it trying to bring that anarchical nature that some writers tried to give the Joker. The Joker was not an anarchist. He wasn't a driven individual. His only goal was 'pleasure through amusement'. And it hardly touched the notion of 'political bliss'.

Albeit one can say that Arthur Fleck was such a thing due to his unique aspect, even he had no clue on how politics truly worked. He was selfish because this was the only goal left in his miserable life. What about the rest? What about the others in the lot?

So many Jokers, so many backgrounds, but every single one of them went back to that infuriating sentence.

It takes a bad day.

And I guess you can say I am not that different from them all.

It's been... five months. Yes, five months since I have woken up in Gotham City. As a man with no legal documentation, this was not a nice place to wound up to- hell, it would be even if I was a middle-class regular citizen.

Despite Batman and other members of the Batfamily working around the clock to keep the crime under check, the polluted political climate rendered Gotham's own chances of ever lifting itself up abysmal. It was ironic how the DCAU had invested much in trying to blame only the mafia for keeping the status quo, aware that Warner Bros would have never let anyone call the police and the politicians 'the cause of those problems'.

Still, this was not DCAU. The mayor was a scumbag, same for his cronies. The police department had Commissioner Gordon, but it was filled with corrupt bastards that were known to do patrols and 'ask for a protection fee'.

I never took those paths after I was told of this phenomenon, but that didn't make life any les precarious for someone like me. I found a job at a local market where I woke up to. The pay was miserable, but I could afford a cheap two-room flat that was as moldy and disgusting as it was advertised.

I just had an old mattress and a small fridge I recently bought to store away any food I was able to buy around. Living by junk food could be useful for a month or so, but my iron gut could not be stressed beyond that. I needed other stuff, so I found edible fruit to store away.

I had my own bathroom, but the toilet would end up clogging up a lot. I didn't rely on the shower- the muddy brown water just wasn't up to my tasted. Luckily for me, the showers at the local beach were free and clean. Except I couldn't visit those frequently or I may be banned for being a 'cheeky hobo'.

All in all, it was a shitty new life. Not the worst, but definitely far from being truly ugly. There was a sense of community despite the tensions in the district. I knew everyone's names at the building complex I lived at, hell, they were aware I was an 'illegal alien' but didn't mind. I wasn't a criminal, I was not causing them issues, and I also tended to help around when possible.

Mrs. Baxter was one of those individuals I knew a lot of. The woman was married, but her husband was never around since he worked in Metropolis. They had a little kid, little Maggie. I had worked as a babysitter when possible and, despite knowing her for less than two months, the child was manageable. Shy, she liked to draw, she had those vibrant green eyes that, mixed with her black hair, made for a normal but cute kid.

She left some drawings to put by my fridge's door. Innocent ones, simple ones...

Then the bad day came.

I had been held back at work since some thugs had decided to rob us. The owner was livid, but was mostly pissed at those that caused the mess. I wasn't fired, but I was pretty much told that the shop would not survive the month with how much they took.

That was the first step into the spiraling doom of this shitty life into a new one.

I came back home to find the entire building warded off. I saw Commissioner Jim Gordon speaking to people. I saw medics in hazmat suits carrying out familiar faces in stretchers. Their skin was pale white, their eyes wide open as tears had rolled down when they were dying and... that hideous smile.

I recognized it, and I hated it.

The Joker had resumed his usual spree with, you know, random attacks meant to gain Batman's attention.

The building plus another one nearby had been hit. I was interviewed by an agent, told that the place would have to be cleared out and rendered unusable for two months. But with the owner being dead, I doubted I could ever return to it due to the verbal agreement I had with the dead man.

All was falling apart around me, but the biggest gut-punch was the sight of a familiar man blocking doctors over a smaller corpse. I recognized Maggie's green eyes, and I recognized Mr. Baxter from some pictures his wife had shown me.

The woman was on a stretcher behind her daughter's, and I felt the weight of the world sinking under my feet, swallowing me unto the earth. I felt no need to cry, or a feeling of approaching the grieving man. I just felt the bitterness growing within me. I was resentful, angry. Many relatives were asking 'why' nothing was done to stop this even after years of the event being a thing.

The police had just automated responses to this. 'We are trying to keep him away' or 'we have our hands tied'.

I didn't bother asking. I knew the drill. And I knew that weeping would not solve this. Same for nagging the politicians. They had their ties with the mob to suppress any 'naggers'. And while my passive nature would have coerced me to just find my secret money stash and start anew, I knew that... it would not be a perfect solution.

It can happen again. Maybe not the Joker, what if it was Mr. Freeze? Or Clayface? Or, who knows, Poison Ivy if she wasn't hooking up with Harley at the moment?

This was not a sustainable situation. And I couldn't expected things to change without doing something. And while I felt nervous of what had to be done, I remembered Maggie and her drawings, no more for me to witness and enjoy as that little bit of 'happiness' this world was willing to give me.

I was done hoping, and I was ready on doing things.

It didn't take me too long to find him.

Joker was still recruiting. He had been unable to snatch crazies off of Arkham in the recent days, so he was letting in a large amount of poor people in. People that thought this could make the difference or... emptily believed so. Most of those were thugs that had already served the Joker and that saw his call as the only choice other than 'sit and die'.

I had to answer a few questions. Nothing too personal, but the 'officers' were sniffing for any police informant. Luckily for me, my lack of documentation worked well and nice in swimmingly secure me a clown make up, new clothes and a gun. A Glock. It wasn't too cheap, but it was commonly sold so much in Gotham that it was easy to steal caches filled with those and their ammo.

We were all rallied at Ace Chemical. The plant was no longer active, but the lack of workers meant an easier time to get congregations going as smoothly as possible. It was night, and the room picked was an underground warehouse that was used to store dangerous material without needing any expensive accomodations to the upper floors.

The Joker was soon on stage, cackling and chuckling. The hideous clown standing over all of us, and providing some plan about bombing the sewers' system to 'shake things up' in the city after so long. But as he was explaining the general plan, he didn't seem to notice one issue-

BANG!

I had raised my gun and taken aim at him. The bullet rapidly struck his chest, around his left breast, and forced him to stop, his smile faltering briefly and a hint of shock and fear glowing through his soulless eyes.

Those around me moved away out of fear, but rather than just standing there, I walked up to the stage, got up the large step and then shot again as I saw the Joker trying to retrieve his gun. This time, the bullet drilled a hole through his left eye. Then I shot again and again. Always on the face, never losing aim or focus over the weakest spot possible.

I unloaded the rest of the cartridge into the dying Clown's head. I didn't stop at this. I raised my left foot and started to stomp at his skull. I didn't have enough strength to crush it. But I bruised his face enough and I broke some teeth.

I was not happy, I was not horrified. I was... angry. This clown has lived long enough, and his death was so simple for one to accomplish that it felt idiotic to feel pleased by it. I had done what many years of bureaucracy refused to accomplish. And I knew this extreme gesture was bound to have some ramifications.

I dropped the emptied gun, and I closed my eyes, sighing as I looked upward.

I expected someone to shot back at me. To claim my 'treacherous' life. I had killed 'the boss'. I had destroyed their opportunity to get back at the city. But there was silence. There was quiet and peace. And then, almost as loud as a gunshot, I heard...

Hands clapping.

First once, then someone else joined. It wasn't a standing ovation, but the people all around were cheering and applauding. I heard them speak, I heard their shout.

"Boss! Boss! Boss!"

They mistook my actions. They thought this was a coup and...

And then I remembered I was wearing the makeup. I was one of them. I was indeed killing their boss to dethrone him but...

But what if I am the one mistaking things?

Did I came here for revenge? Justice? No. It wasn't either of those things. I too understood them. They wanted change.

It didn't have to be madness to lead them, but it had to be a desire to force a new status quo. It wasn't a political party, it was a social movement. One that was tired and drained of listening to the same old clown that used them as useless fodders. One that wanted someone that understood them.

Yes, I think I could see what was to be done. I could no longer enjoy the path of being 'right'. I had shredded that chance. Maybe I could use money to go back there but... I already killed. And the fear of someone else taking that mantle to continue seeding chaos through Gotham would turn my efforts in nothing sauce.

I sighed again, and I raised my hands, knowing there was one thing to do now more than ever.

"You are welcome, folks."

I had to become the Joker. The Joker Without Smiles.

AN

The funny thing is that I already expect people saying 'Batman is gonna find you', but the MC does not have any DNA saved up in any hospital or criminal database. He isn't even documented as a proper citizen of Gotham or the US so... Bats can't and will not find a thing on this new Joker. And he will see the pace changing a lot. Like, lots!