pale_laughter (pale_laughter) wrote in arkham_city_rpg, @ 2013-02-09 16:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | the joker |
Little Plans Under the Big Top
Who: Joker, Harley, ???
What: Joker settles in
When: After leaving Arkham Asylum
Where: Amusement Mile
Rating: PG-13ish
Status: Open, Incomplete
Ah, breathe that salt air. Finally free of the sour-sewage smell of the asylum, but now back to the seafront property of his amusement mile home. It was nauseating to the burned out nostrils of the depraved Clown Prince of Crime... Joker couldn't wait to replace it with the fetid stench of brewing toxins. It was just more his thing. Staring out at the rusted iron frameworks of the old amusement park rides and the tattered fabric making a bold yet futile attempt at hanging onto the big tents where the people had once come to laugh, and laugh, and laugh, it tickled him. There was only one thing nagging at the many different dark corners of his mind, and that was an absence of anybody else to laugh with. He had never been satisfied with a silent lair, there was never any fun in it. Nobody to try new jokes on, nobody to send out and check for Batman, which over the years had become a very helpful way of avoiding being utterly pummeled until he was damn sure ready for it. He didn't mind the pummeling, it was all part of the dance, but he wanted to be ready for it first. Preferably with a rocket launcher and a lapel full of acid. Maybe a joy buzzer with 50,000 volts of joy and glad-type feelings coursing through that flying joke. They had had a lot of funny laughs together, over the years. Like when he'd brought that crowbar down again, THUD, and again, THUD, on one of Batman's ever-replaceable Robins. He'd always remember those wet, messy thuds. Or the broken back of Gordon's precious little flower, oh how he'd laughed, delivering that punchline. And Batman was always so upset, always so easy to make fly off the handle, but... Not far enough, not yet. HI mean if the broken, shattered body of your latest little birdie won't do it, what the hell will? It was really getting to be very difficult coming up with new ideas for what to do. He wanted so badly to give Batman that little push, show him who he really was inside, but it just hadn't happened yet. Oh well, maybe with the proper motivation, one of these days.
Joker wiped away a couple sentimental tears and blew his nose theatrically onto the ground. God that salt in the air really did burn, Arkham Asylum had made him sicker, so had that venom, he couldn't wait to get inside and begin plotting things out. He felt his body becoming a little frailer every year and every pummel. Not that he'd mind when the last laugh was on him, it just didn't feel like he'd given his grandest performance yet. His home was here, he was here. Now that they were reunited, if he could just find some people to share a laugh with, that would be swell. That would make this perfect, then they could all plan out something truly worth of this brave new hell on Earth. One piece de resistance, and then if Batman hurled him off the high-wire act he could land on his own two shattered feet a very satisfied man. Not that he wanted to rule Arkham City or anything, he just... Wanted to see what would happen if he turned up the heat on those who did desire ownership. Nobody challenged Amusement Mile much, a few goons here and there, helpful little test subjects for new toxins and treats. Why want more? Here he'd stay and here he'd plan out something truly amazing. He wondered where Harley was, usually she'd show up by now, she truly doted on her puddin', and he had to admit a certain fondness for the girl, as much as his mind ever made sense of ties of love. Might even be love, and wouldn't that be the greatest laugh of all? There really was nobody he enjoyed making merry, macabre acts of extreme violence with more than his former shrink. Maybe they'd blow it all up, wouldn't that be hilarious? Eh, he needed to sit down, he was thinking too small, needed time to really wrack his brain for something great. He wondered about that little blonde thing he'd passed in the asylum and the soldier boy he'd gassed; would they be guests of his funhouse soon? He tended to draw certain types to him like moths to a flame. Cops and crazies, they loved a good laugh, even if for entirely different reasons. Harley had asked him once, gleefully, bouncing up and down, for a little sister, maybe she'd like the blonde as a plaything. Or had she asked for a ticklish winter, it was difficult to tell sometimes what exactly Harley was getting at when she kept laughing as she asked for each new thing. Oh well, maybe he'd go track down Mr. Freeze as well and give her both.