a match made in hell -- crowbar x spear

chapter 1 :)

tw: emotional 😔

(actual tws: death, blood, torture, explosions)

crowbar's pov

"You've been a bad boy. You must be punished!" the Joker said as he picked me up from on top of the crate. Finally, I thought. I had been sitting there without action for too long.

I surveyed my surroundings quickly. The Joker, with his incredible chin and jawline was holding me, and was surrounded by his goons. I wondered for a brief moment how much they were being paid. They were probably being paid with their lives.

A woman was standing next to the Joker. She had short curly blonde hair and was wearing green jeans and a white blouse. She had a scowl on her face, but I looked into her eyes and I saw deep remorse packed down. I knew all about concealing emotions.

I looked at the corner where she was glaring. I almost gasped in shock when I saw the figure huddled in the corner. Was that...?

It was. The Joker had captured Jason Todd, the Boy Wonder, Robin.

The Joker approached him. He looked up at me in horror. I noted that he was bleeding from the nose — had the Joker struck him with someone else previously? I looked around the room and spotted a gun with blood on it. I stared at him, and he looked away in guilt.

"Prepare yourself for a severe spanking, young man," the Joker sneered. "But let me tell you right from the start... this is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me."

The Joker brought me down on Jason's back. Hard. Jason yelled out in pain, and I felt a twinge of pity for him. My father, the Joker, was brutal. Merciless. As the joker brought me down on Jason again and again, I knew right then and there that I was going to beat this fifteen-year-old to death.

After ten straight minutes of this torture, he lay still and unmoving. There were bruises all over his body, his nose was certainly broken, and he was bleeding from almost every part of his body. His clothes were torn. His veins were visible.

"My, but that was fun!" the joker shouted with glee, his hands and clothes covered in blood. I, too, was dripping in blood.

"But what's Batman going to do when he finds out what you've done to his little friend?" the blonde lady asked, stepping forward. She threw her cigarette on the floor. I wondered if she had been smoking because of stress, or to feel tough, or both.

The Joker's expression turned worried. He hadn't thought of that, and now he recognized that he needed to come up with something quickly.

"Maybe it would be best if I didn't leave behind any evidence of my presence," my father said. He discarded me on the floor. " know can't hurt me!"

One of my father's henchmen—a tall man with massive muscles—stepped forward and grabbed the blonde woman, forcing her hands behind her back. "Too bad you had to witness this little display of my temper, Sheila."

The woman, Sheila, twisted to face him. "It won't work, Joker!" she cried out in desperation. "They'll know it's you from the slaughtered refugees!"

"Perhaps the authorities will figure their deaths were caused by something disagreeable that they ate," he sneered. "Doesn't matter. There won't be any direct evidence connecting me to the birdboy's death. That's one of the most fascinating aspects of the Batman. The righteous boob insists on solid evidence before going nova."

"What now, boss?" asked a henchman looking very similar to the first one (who had finished tying Sheila's hands behind her and tied her to a pole with rope.) Perhaps they were related?

"We just leave lovely Sheila tied next to that lovely bomb," my father cackled. "Isn't it fortunate that I never go anywhere without bringing along at least one explosive device."

"You've got ten minutes. I'll enjoy the thought of you counting every second of them. Ta-ta!" My father and his henchman left the warehouse.

Sheila cried after them. I almost felt bad for her. It wasn't pretty being betrayed by the Joker. It suddenly dawned on me that that was exactly what was happening to me now. My father...he had left me on the floor of the warehouse.

The bomb would go off in nine minutes, and then I would explode. I was full of rage and sorrow—how could my father leave me here? My brilliant mind began thinking faster than it had ever thought before. I needed a plan. I needed to get out of here.

At around the two-minute-mark, as Sheila was lamenting to herself, we heard a groan from the corner. I looked to see Jason Todd—bruised, bleeding, and beaten, but alive.

"Jason!" Sheila shrieked. "You're still alive?!!"

Jason looked up, though I wasn't sure how he could possibly see. The bomb's timer read 2:04.

"The bomb, Jason! Deactivate it!" Sheila told him.

I wasn't sure why he would listen to her, as she was the reason he was half-dead, but I knew an opportunity when I saw one. The bomb read 1:35. As Jason was distracted untying Sheila, I started to thrash.

I managed to balance onto my foot and hop all the way to the door. I couldn't turn the knob, so I needed to improvise. I hopped onto my head and kicked the door down, then hobbled outside, still covered in blood.

As I frantically hopped away, I only got about a hundred feet before the bomb exploded.

I dived for cover behind a boulder and, as the flames swept around me, wondered if Sheila and Jason had made it out. My stone-cold heart didn't care either way, but I was curious.

But I was even more curious about my future. My father, whom I'd known all my life, had left me to die in an explosion. The sudden realization that he'd been using me this whole time was shocking. He never really cared about me, did he? I was just there to break down doors and kill when he needed me to. I shouldn't have been surprised — the Joker was a cold-hearted man. Still, I felt a salty tear running down my blood-streaked face.

What came next for me? 

hey shawty baes what is UP this is my first story in a while and i hope u like it!!!!!!!!!!!

(in case you couldn't tell, this is all a joke. completely satire, it's an inside joke with one of my friends. i am saying this because i don't want to be canceled)

--enna