Property of Joker

Hell

     The murky streets of Gotham were silent, dense smog clouding the dusky air. The van slid open and the cold breeze daggered into my skin through my ragged clothes, unchanged from the previous nights. Frost stood outside, holding a small duffle bag in his hands. "I'm in no condition to walk," I protested, knowing my injuries weren't the only thing making me reluctant to leave.

"Oh well," Frost stated matter-of-factly. He wasn't to drive me back, I was done with.

"Well I don't even know where I am so-"

"Find a map." Clearly Frost no longer wished to spend more time dealing with me. It was finished. I was to leave and never return.

    I winced in pain as I edged out of the van, my muscles throbbing against their gaping wounds. I stepped onto the pavement, excruciating pain jolting into my injured ankle. "I can't do this,"

    Frost plopped the duffle bag onto the sidewalk, it slushing into a stream of water. I had no words left to say before he marched back to the van and drove off. The white figure disappeared into the cloudly night.

Abandoned.

    Rain showered over me, drenching my clothes. The frigid night wind stabbed into me, chilling to the very bone. It was misery. The purest form of hell. I limped to the curb, grunting in the horrific pain caused from the pressure. My cuts stung against the endless rain. This was hell. I was in hell.

I hated it.

    I took refuge in a dark alley a few steps in the way, my leg growing more and more numb with each movement. The wind wasn't as bad, at least there was that. I slumped down next to a dumpster, half of the lid dangling off and creating a makeshift roof. I skidded my bag along, the bottom of it dripping with water.

    Tears began to fall down my face uncontrollably. The bawling seemed to go on for hours, endless hidden emotions overflowing from me. I had been broken. Shattered. Every inch of me ached, physically and mentally. My heart ached most of all.

The rain continued for a the rest of the night, as did some hail. My shelter only did so good, most water leaking from the side and into my back. My body ran out of tears eventually, I became used to the frigid night air as well. Only then did I manage to rest my eyes to ease myself from the excruciating pain seeping from my body. The bandages wrapped around me became wet as well, certainly giving me an infection of some sort. A few mice scuttled past me, gross, yet I didn't have much room to argue. I had become a wreck, an absolute wreck.

It was the worst form of insanity there was.

     The sun dimly shined through the dense morning smog of Gotham. The rain had ceased, yet  ground was swamped in water and puddles. In order to survive this I had to keep moving. It was the only way.

Just keep moving Y/N. You can do this...

    Hesitantly I rose to my feet, wincing in the excruciating pain emitting from my injuries. I had to keep going. Lying on the streets of Gotham was practically the same as holding up a sign that said "rape me and kill me" in big bold letters, as well as "arrest me, I am a wanted criminal". Nowhere was safe, one corner lurking with the scummiest terrors of Gotham, the other holding armed police men and other various "heroes".

    "Heroes"... the very word repulsed me, almost as much as the word "Batman" did. He did this to me. He chased me out here. Nothing but a troubled man taking out his issues on others. I began to hate the person I was raised to admire. Sickening. The ominous way in which he tormented simply damaged individuals. That's all J- I mean Joker was, damaged. The acid, the insanity... Batman did that. It was his fault, and I had to make him pay for it.

    Here I was, a nearly innocent victim being chased down for her life. Who knew what the charges or consequences were. Maybe everybody thought I was dead. Who knows anything? Through time, we all become a little damaged... slowly rotting corpses, our pure minds tainted with pain through the course of our meager lives. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered what so ever.

    I crouched down and unzipped the mysterious bag near my feet in which I was handed before by Frost, unsure of it's contents. Hell, it could have been a bomb and I wouldn't had cared less.

    To an extent it was a bomb, a bomb in which my entire life as I knew it would explode. The meager remains of my sanity diminished one by one as I pulled out the glistening object from the bag.

It was a gun.

    On the top layed a note with scribbling in purple ink... his.

     For the Bat
                   - J

    I shuddered as I read the note, immediately crumpling it up and tossing it to the side. It was as if he predicted my every action before it could even happen. He could foresee my every thought. Slowly, he was destroying me. He was unraveling me into bits and pieces, manipulating them, shaping an entirely new human being.

He was creating me.

... creating me into something for his amusement. A simple joke. He was creating me to be his.

... and I knew just what I had to do.

     I picked up the scribbled note once more and stared at it. Was I going mad? Yes. Would I have the madness to reach such new heights? It was uncertain.

    I reached in the bag and grasped the pistol in my hand, tracing over the delicate carvings in which marked it as a symbol of his. My mind boggled as I drifted in and out of awareness. Was I actually fit to perform such an audacious task? I took a deep breath and stepped out from the shadows, not bothering to conceal the lethal weapon in my grip. The streets of Gotham were lightly bustling with groups of denizens heading to work and such. Innocent.

   Yet as I saw it, nothing in Gotham was innocent. It was simply a corrupt city overrun by a man in a costume who has grieving issues. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Killing a couple people here and there would be doing them a favor.

    I spotted a young woman, probably in her mid 20's, accompanied by a head of ginger hair and a slim physique. She jogged down the road, her headphones in her ear and her hair tied up in a ponytail. Perfect. Without much thought I cocked the gun and pointed it at her, immediately causing gasps of terror from the others. Hell, if I wouldn't get her, the other criminals probably would eventually for her running around by herself. A bang emitted loudly as I watched the bullet protrude into the back of her head. Her lifeless body immediately flailed to the ground, slamming against it without even a twitch.

next stop: batsy.