how the cards fell (joker origin story)

The perfect gag

Ever since we first escaped from Arkham, Croc and I have been living in the sewers eating food that I nicked from shops every now and again. it would have been pointless sending Croc because he would attract so much attention that the cops would begin searching all the sewers and we would have no where to go.

judging by the moon that i can see from an open drain, it is most likely midnight. Croc is sleeping but i can't sleep so i'm going to go for a walk out there.

the air is cool and the sky is dark and descending across the city.  The dark clouds reigned over majestically, waiting to see where my travels shall take me. What I shall do. The buildings around me tower tall enough to kiss or kill the dark skies above. yet, despite the initial beauty of the city there was a certain amount of evil that hung about its neck, refusing to loosen its hold even for a minuscule second. it gave me chills. the good kind of course.

i walked along the dark abandoned streets alone taking in the rotten sights that fed beauty of Gotham. all the things i have loved about it ever since i first remember seeing it after my departure from Arkham. the way that people don't care when people are robbed in the street. or when someone's body is left on the street. sure the cops care. course they do, its their job.

That was when I realised. i knew what i was missing. my identity. the thing i live to do, to be. i was brought here to shock and entertain these people. they don't care because these things are common place for them. they are numb to it. well, i am going to sensitise them to it. make them all laugh or scream. amuse them or horrify them. 

Rather conveniently i noticed a rather young man walking down the street towards me and i decided that i would start now. once he got within range, I pushed him to the floor and i jumped on top of him pulling out my knife.

"What the... oh god! no, please don't... don't kill me! I, I have a family!" he begged out of unfounded desperation. he had no idea the masterpiece he was to become. He would be my first work of art. For he is my living canvas for me to do what i wish. As I made my first marks upon his face, i smiled.  he now bore an unnaturally wide smile that conflicted the pain and fear warring within him. The blood of the painful smile ran down his face and painted the ground beneath us.  Carved on his head, I left the word crazy and signed my name beneath it. The Joker . 

I poked my finger into his blood and licked it. It had a rather nice taste to it but it wasn't my favourite. it was a bit too... too salty. I wasn't going to drink it again.

After relentlessly slicing up his body as much as I could, I propped his body up against the wall for someone to find.

Looking down upon my handiwork, I noticed that it was missing something. A message. A manifesto. How could the people of Gotham understand my mission if I didn't explain it to them.

Using my other smaller green knife, I carved into his tender flesh the words let there be fun!. I smiled and giggled at the thought of the horrified faces they would pull at the sight of my artwork.

This was just the beginning.