Smile...With Teeth

Chapter 1

A/N: This is a weird story I started writing when I was recovering from the flu. I continued it... If you have read my other story, well this one is different. There is a bit of time jumping.. but not much, the story moves right along to catch up his memories and the present time...so... yeah...

~She comes along

She gets inside

She makes you better than anything you've tried

It's in her kiss

The blackest sea

And it runs deeper than youDare to dream it could be~

~Nine Inch Nails~

Present

Joker didn't have many attachments as a rule. He had grown attached to his knives, but they were useful. It wasn't the actual knife, but the use of them. They were fairly disposable.

 He only had a few addictions. Bloodlust, oh, he enjoyed that one. The thrill of the chase and the power of the control he had as he held a person's life in his hands. He got excited about the thought of it.

He had been released, unofficially, from Arkham, when some guy in a mask took over the city. He had been in that damned nuthouse for years, barely coherent. They had him on a rigorous regimen of narcotics. One shot to dull his mind, one to slow his body, a few antipsychotics, and even sleeping pills.

When the strange man had taken over, the meds stopped abruptly. Joker sat alone in his cell going through a detox. He's not sure when the door was opened, maybe while he was still drugged, maybe not. All that mattered was the cell door was open when he was almost himself again.

He got up and made his way to the storage room. He found his old clothes there, they were a bit baggy and smelled like dust. Better than running around naked he mused. He had dressed and walked out of the front door. The first thing he needed was a ride.

The city was different. Joker was unsure if he liked that. He had found out that the man had been beaten, but Batman had been killed in the process. That had put him in a really bad mood.He had found his way back to the Narrows and started to feel better.

 He was home again, the stink of poverty and death was thick in the Narrows. He had wandered around, his memory still a bit fuzzy recovering from the near comatose state the City of Gotham kept him in for God knows how long.

He had felt a bit more like himself each day that passed. When his mind began to race from topic to topic, and the ideas began again, he remembered his old hideout. His secret place. He was headed there now.

It was a long walk from where he is now. He laughed at the mess he was in. This was madness at it's finest.He walked up to the rusty looking gate, admiring the 'abandoned' building behind it. Yes, this was what he needed.

He'd been walking aimlessly the last few weeks, sleeping a few hours here and there. His now almost manic state afforded him no sleep for the last two days. He reached behind the condemned sign and felt the lock there. He needed the key, where had he put the key?

He stood there for who knows how long before the memory returned.He laughed, he thought he might have been killed or worse captured and had hidden the key where it would die with him. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his knife.

He flicked the blade to its fullest and raised his shirt. This was gonna hurt, He felt the area around one of his numerous scars and BINGO, there it was. Joker smiled as he made a small incision in his side. He dropped the knife and watched for a minute as his own deep red blood began to run from the small cut.