There were still perks to knowing the inner workings of the Joker's realm. Like the locations of at least a dozen safe houses around the city. As long as I didn't stay in one too long, I shouldn't be detected by any of the clowns. So I shuffled around to about three different ones each week. It was only temporary. Soon I'd find my own spot. I'd have to keep a low profile and not let my face be seen. It was pretty recognizable after all, due entirely to the chemicals still in my blood stream.
Every time I stepped out of the shower I'd go straight to a mirror for a look. I think that in the back of my mind I expected to wash away the white skin, green hair, and red lips. But no such luck. No matter how hard I scrubbed, even until I bled, I still couldn't wash him away. I'm always unchanged. I looked like a Joker groupie with a grey streak. The tattoos may have been lazered from my flesh. The silver teeth replaced with white. My bones broken to reconstruct my face to Jason Todd. My curls no longer slicked back. The designer suits now traded for leather and combat boots. But every time I painstakingly look my reflection, all I see is the Joker.
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Always him.
Then I'm reminded of a life I no longer live. Things I had grown accustomed to and no longer have. I've grown an empathy for cops that go into deep cover. Sometimes for years at a time. It's nearly impossible to not become the character that you play. With time you just lose yourself. When it's over it's so hard to walk away and return to the person you once were. You take many things with you that inevitably change you forever. There's not a day that goes by that I don't ask myself who I am. And I can tell you, seeing white skin and green hair makes it even harder to put things in the past.
Every day, as I stare at the mirror, I try to come up with some way to get these fucking chemicals out of my body. But even if I theoretically could, it was very unlikely that my pigmentation would ever return to normal. Perhaps one day I can find a way to restore my skin. Maybe my hair could be dyed in the meantime. The red hood would help hide my secret from people. Gloves would cover my pasty hands.
But my cosmetic delimma was the least of my problems. I had Bruce hot on my trail. I knew he wouldn't stop hunting me until he found me. He'd just drag me back to the plexiglass cell in the batcave. Then he would start trying to "rehabilitate" me. Analyzing me like a fucking shrink. Worming his way into my head. Trying to push his propaganda on me. Brainwashing me just like he had when I was a kid. But now I see clearly. I knew what I had to do.
But, being a badass vigilante was going to require some serious financial funding. I couldn't go out there and change this city in some halloween costume. I needed serious weapons. It wasn't like anyone would take me seriously if I used Joker style gag weapons. Like his guns that shot out flags that said bang. I also needed sanother suit, you know, in case I fuck up the only one I have. I would also need to buy my own rats to keep me informed of what's going on in the streets.
So obviously, I needed to come up with a plan of how to procure some fast cash. Of course, there's not really a legal way to come up with a large sum of money in a short amount of time. But there are lots of bad guys with ill-gotten gains in Gotham. The way I see it, they deserve to lose some of it. Easy come, easy go. I just have to decide who or what organization will be funding my endeavors. Then come up with a plan of how to make them give it to me. And how to keep them from trying to come after me.
