Re: Edge of town
Each second that stretched out between them in the cold air as Bruce Wayne, playboy extraordinaire meets delusional vigilante, turned to face him – they each tasted as sweet as syrup on the clown’s painted, twisted lips. The rigidity of the man’s shoulders and the scowl that played about his too-handsome features, they were all the more telling when paired with the dark, grim stare that threatened to burn holes in the Joker’s very flesh.
“That was in another life, old friend. That Gotham? Our Gotham?” he snorted derisively, reaching up with one gloved hand to sweep his slick bangs away from his forehead. “It isn’t here. Might look familiar, but we’re playing in a whole new ballgame.”
And it was true, wasn’t it? Never mind the fact that Gotham was overflowing with villains and do-gooders alike, practically bursting at the goddamn seams with colourful characters that this particular clown knew after hours spent forcing Jonah to absorb the comic books and the television shows and the hee-larry-us movies that some poor bastard named Tim Burton had birthed into the world – into Jonah’s world. It was all research.
“So you can just consider that an… alternate timeline, if you will. Back there? Back there I wanted you to keep the mask, because it went so very well with mine,” he laughed softly, wiping one fingertip across his white-pained cheek and holding up the evidence for all to see. “But now I know. And now I see. And the big, bad Bat-man can’t hide anymore, and anyway – I wouldn’t want you to.”
The clown moved forward by inches, treading through the snow until he was undoubtedly within Bruce’s comfort zone but still just barely beyond the reach of his grasp.