My Roommate Is A Clown//A BatJokes Fanfiction

2. His New Guard

     Thump. Thump. Thump.

A dark purple heart laced with neon green veins pumped the scarlet liquid that kept the body alive. Here lies the body of a deranged lunatic that has lost his way for good and doubt is creased on the lines of his forehead. His ever so gleaming white skin was now a gray hue, tinted in a shade that screamed for a tender helping hand. A hand that he would snap off with his teeth and chew to pieces if it ever got too close.

He didn't know how to be helped. He couldn't help himself so there was no point in letting someone else do it for him, as that would be mockery!

Then why did he play that trick? Why did he lure the Bat onto a poorly executed stage with no script? He had nothing to go on except grab his enemy's attention any way he could and...regretfully ask for help the only way he knew best. There was shame in being a criminal mastermind and Gotham's most feared villain to a truly broken man that only looked the part. Heh, he had everyone fooled, including himself.

None of it mattered. Not anymore. He was dead now and he had broken Batman.

He won.

He finally got what he had always wanted. He made the Batman turn on his golden rule! He won, he won, he won!

"I won. I won. I won..." the Clown smiled in his sleep before licking his dry, unnaturally red lips.

Oh God, why was he so thirsty? The dead can't get thirsty, can they?

Then, in a flash of abruptness, the Joker sat up in an unfamiliar room, his senses totally off. He squinted and looked around, taking in the ambience as if he had his own detective vision. As if he somehow knew where he was even though nothing was quite clear yet. God, what happened again?

Oh, right. He was fighting the Bat. The Bat chucked his whole body into a mirror that almost caused him to bleed out. Joker looked down at himself and noticed he was half naked (save for a pair of white, baggy pants) but his upper frame was covered in medical wrap. Bandages covered his arms and he even noticed some stitches. He lifted one of his green fingernail fingers to brush against the padding on his head, his attitude already sour.

All of these bandages, bandaids and stitches made him feel like some sort of hipster mummy! Ooohhh, no Siree bob, this was not in his definition book of what good fashion is! He was not a 'fashion faux pas.'

After the Jester was done remembering how he got there, he realized another thing. Batman must have saved him - again - and had him put in some...way fancier asylum. Or a group home, he could keep guessing all night.

"Serves me right," Joker murmured to himself. "This is what I get for trying to ask the dense Bat in the Hat for help."

The Clown hopped out of the bed, ignoring how sore he was and casually strode over to the door, opening it. No, not opening it. It was locked. Could have seen that from a mile away. He twisted the handle more aggressively even though he knew he should not alert anyone he was awake. Joker huffed before turning back around to jog over to the window. He ripped the hideous curtains down to find that the window had bars over it. The windows were tinted so black that there was no way he could make anything out of them.

No doubt that man-sized rodent set this up. That was such an idiotic idea, because why would he help him? There was far too much hate by then for the Dark Knight to ever consider it. At one time...Batman did. But, since then, he's made it clear that he and Joker had nothing. Were nothing. That he was sick to death of the Clown and his destructive ways.

The lunatic paced the room, trying to think up a good plan to bust that door down. Those bastards took all of his toys so he had nothing but his wit and his fists. His crazed green eyes studied everything in that room and noticed how "Joker-proof" it was. Absolutely nothing essential was in there. Except for a single landline telephone.