parademon (parademon) wrote in braveandthebold, @ 2013-05-28 01:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !plot: hell on earth, character: batgirl, character: brute, character: green arrow, character: nightwatch, npc: the joker |
WHO: The Joker & Open to Interested Parties
WHEN: 05/24
WHERE: Gotham City, NJ
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: The Joker has returned to Gotham and a veritable war zone breaks out.
NOTES: There is a mass of clownish demons at Joker's command. Interested parties should feel free to have anyone come across them near the chaos that sparks from this. I'll tag back accordingly. :D
John Jefferies was not happy and someone was going to pay for that. It was one thing to try and break into his place of business. But this was something else entirely. Who the hell would break into a souvenir store just to deface all of the manikins? As he surveyed the damage storefront from the street, he wondered where the hell the cops were. A glance down to his wrist revealed another five minutes had gone by with still no sign of help. If they didn't get their ass out here soon, he'd have to take matters into his own hands; Consequences be damned.
Another five minutes rolled by and finally a patrol car turned around the corner in a wide lazy excuse of a turn and came to stop before the shattered window. Red and Blue lights lit the street into flickering daylight as the two patrol officers heaved themselves from their seats. "Awright." One of them drawled, his hands resting on his leather belt stretched to its limits. "What kind of joker are we dealing with here?"
"How the hell should I know?" John replied, his anger masked thinly beneath a layer of contempt. "Isn't that suppose to be your job to find out? I sell memories and you get paid to stuff your--"
The crackle of glass and a tittering laugh drifted out of the store front like an escaping apparition. Both cops turned abruptly toward the gaping maw of the storefront. Hands moved to the grips of their sidearms and more lights appeared in the form of flashlights. "Sir stay out here," the older cop commanded in a tone of parental authority. Slowly they prowled forward, their foot steps falling into sync. Checking their sides, the first cop stepped into the store through the shattered window. "Clear." He called back to his partner and the second man entered.
The store's interior looked as if a hurricane had decided to rampage through on its way home from a bar. Shelves lay empty and the few manikins in the quaint little store had all been turned to form a lose semi circle in front of the window. The false faces of the men and women were smeared with red make up and black circles around their eyes. "Who the hell--" The younger cop began, his beam searching through the wreckage of the store. The beam of light fell across a dark patch of shadows and a tall, lanky form appeared as the other shadows were driven back. "The fuck?!" In an instant the form was gone and laughter danced along in its wake.
"No.. That's impossible." The old beat cop said and tried to follow the ghost's path. With every beat of his heart the beam of light shook in a sudden spasm of fear. "Rook, get on the horn and get Back Up out here."
"You sure? It's probably some--"
"Just do it." The heavy set officer commanded as his face drew strict and pale with apprehension. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and he subconsciously licked the perspiration away. After a brief check of his blind spots, he inched his way deeper into the store. Glass crunched underfoot and he shuddered again. "Get a grip John. He's dead." He muttered to himself as if the words would bring him strength.
"Dispatch, This is Unit 206. Requesting back up. We've got--" The rookie's transmission was cut short by a cry of fear and a flash of light. "Jesus!" The rookie cried out and struggled to catch the radio. Plastic shattered as it hit the floor and the electronic squealed once before it promptly died. There was another maniacal giggle but this time it wasn't alone. Other voices seemed to bubble up from the darkness that rolled in closer to the rookie. High pitched wailing sounded in the interior of the shop and despite his partner's pain, the rookie stepped back into the street. "Holyshitholyshitholyshit.." He muttered to himself as he drew closer to the squad car.
From behind the young officer came another flash of light and the whir of a tiny motor. The patrolman spun around with his gun drawn and froze at form before him. A clown stood in the street and appeared utterly oblivious to the world at large. A suit of dark purple hung from the lanky form of the maniac. A head full of seaweed colored hair had been brushed back away from sunken eyes. Paper white skin furrowed at the brow as he focus on the antique Polaroid film in his hand. Another picture was clutched between his teeth as he flapped the plastic square in anticipation. Gray paper turned darker until finally the horrified expression of the police officer came into focus. "Ooooo!" He practically cooed in a voice that was thick with excitement and malice. "That's going to be a good one."
"Oh," The Ace of Knaves began as his dark and glittering eyes came to regard the man before him. "Try not to make a mess of him, boys." The clown said with a peek over the officer's shoulder to the shadows within the store. A feral snarl burst from the darkness and humanoid forms tore their way into the street. The pack of shapes descended upon the cop who screamed his horror and pain to the night sky. Behind the clown lay the twitching remains of John Jefferies. A smile had severed his cheeks down to the upward turn of his jaw. Directly beneath the first cut a similar incision had opened this man's throat until the white vertebra were visible through the scarlet horror of torn muscle and arteries.
A song rolled from his lips as the Joker skipped through the blood spatter toward the GCPD Cruiser. With a flourish he tore the door open and slid into the passenger seat. A dispatch operator could be heard trying to reach the unit that had been cut off mid sentence. "Tsk tsk tsk tsk. Someone shouldn't hog the airways like that!" The clown snickered to himself as he picked up the car's radio unit. A break in the transmission gave him the opportunity he needed.
"Testing? Testing? A-one, A-two, A-three!" With that out of the way the psychopath made a performance of clearing his throat. "Hello Gotham! Daddy's home!" A laugh hacked its way into that sentence as the Joker kicked his heels in delight. "I know you've missed me and La! How I've missed the smiling faces of my favorite playmates! But first things first, Wakey-Wakey "Old Man" Gordon. He's going to want to hear this. Oh and whoever the new Commish is might want to fire up that old night light on top of Major Crimes. Batty-Batty-Batman's got a front row seat to my first performance in years." The Joker slid out of the car, the shot gun in hand. "Mistah J's back in town! And I'm throwing a party!"
Laughter erupted from the clown and with a flick of his hand the dark shapes materialized into the forms of human men and women. They were an ecclectic bunch dressed in cast of clothing that gave them the appearance of homeless clowns. Their arms were a little too long and their fingers resembled claws more than the pudgy digits of humans. With a single and solid howl, they burst from their spot before the store and tore into the buildings and residences nearby.