Invictus

01; the End of Two Short Threads

Just a short AN before you all read this story to explain the details. For one, the timeline will be set after TDK but TDKR will not have taken place, nor will it. The timeline will also be mixed with some canon comic occurrences, and the Joker's interpretation will be as well. My character will also not have known the Joker from when he was younger, so their "relationship" will be based solely on what happens in this story. With that said, this story will not evolve into the Joker changing and falling in love because that's not realistic, what will happen will be twisted and dark and definitely not a traditional romance at all (if you can even consider it one). So if you're looking for a love story this isn't the place. If you have any other questions just ask, but without further ado I present Invictus.

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INVICTUS

Part 1: Hope In Vain

Chapter 01; the End of Two Short Threads

The statue at the center of Justice Hall had resembled Batman some years ago before Harvey Dent's death, when his name held tremors of faith for a better community, not only as another chapter in Gotham's history—just another name in a field of headstones. He should have known, we all should have known, that in Gotham faith wasn't realistic. Wasn't possible. Both Batman and Harvey fell like the rest, but this statue still stood; though it's meaning had been lost a time ago, too.

Lark Marshall believed in Harvey Dent. She believed everyone had at at least once. Before that she'd believed more in Batman, but even he'd left Gotham to the flesh eating sharks. The sky had seemed shades duller when she looked at the night she realized this, because she knew it would never have the symbol of hope alight the clouds again. Gotham was always cloudy, sometimes the grass went for days without a glimpse of the sun. It was a wonder how it survived.

Somehow the bat symbol had reached a far deeper meaning than merely a calling card. Lark would see it and feel safer, and the Earth would tremor less with tragedy knowing it was going to be protected at any cost. The soul of Gotham had died with Batman and Harvey Dent, both Knights of a different blood that stained the soil and turned the crops to rot.

Over time Lark had learned that Gotham bred survivors and predators, maybe that was because evil and heroism festered in the darkness; perhaps that was why Gotham was the melting pot it was. Kings and Queens of hearts and spades, but all apart of the same motley deck.

Lark fell somewhere between pessimist and realist in the realm of outlooks, because though they were often considered the same thing, it was a thought process vital for her survival. Everyone's instinctual skills were at peak condition in Gotham or you were attending your own funeral service, but her role as a predator remained dormant. Perhaps to awaken, or perhaps that part was clutching the stem of a wilted rose, awaiting its own procession because it never stood a chance.

Lark wouldn't know. She wasn't a psychologist, but standing in front of Batman's statue made her feel enlightened in a way she could have never claimed to know before. She didn't understand it then, but she could stare and try and will the statue to take life so she could ask why. Why, why, why? As hopeless as the endeavor was, her eyes would stare and reflect the contorted metal that once stood a proud symbol that the people of Gotham were stronger than it's adversaries or anything they could manage.

The current state of the dedication spoke of a haggard disloyalty, looking as if some beggars had grasped upon Batman's metal form and ripped the clothes from the back like it would quell the hunger in their stomach. His face was melted, and whatever tool had been used also scorched his shoulders and back, but it had somehow spared the insignia on the chest, and if one looked hard enough at midday the gleam of Justice still reflected at some small degree in it.