Sequel: Death's a Joke. ›
Who Says That ***'s Not an Art?
Distinguishing Features.
Almost as soon as the kiss had began it ended, as she went to bring her arms back down to her sides she felt two purple leather gloves seize her almost skeletal wrists.
“Why the hell did you just do that?” Sneered the Joker, pressing his forehead against her which was transferring the white paint he wore.
“Well, despite your attempts you’re still just a man, you still have your…temptations. And, being a criminal as well I know that it’s hard to find someone and then you have to actually have to show them some compassion which means it would be so much easier if they where dead, but I don’t think you’re a necrophiliac so-” She explained before breaking off into a hysterical laughing fit releasing from his hardening clamp around her wrists.
The Joker entwined his fingers around his newly polished knife that he picked up during the explosion before forcing the blade’s side into her fragile skin; only enough to cause pain but not break skin while he began to laugh maliciously.
“I hope you realise what you’ve gotten yourself into toots,” Mumbled the Joker into her ear before loosing his grip then slipping into the night leaving her to stand there with a smirk.
As the Joker skipped through the streets while twirling a pocketknife in his hand some piece of debris fell just as he put his worn, brown shoe down, pinning it to the ground. The Joker tilted his head as if imitating a confused puppy while his tongue flicked over his lips. With a swift moment he clutched the paper which had its corner rigorously burnt and was now glowing a fading orange. He smoothed the crumpled paper to realise it was a police forum with information; the picture showed the female he had just walked away from. Scrawled next to it was a note saying ‘Do not disseminate, Police department use only’. He stuffed it into his inside pocket, only skim reading ‘distinguishing features; scars’ but the rest had been burnt and had now become a black curled piece.
“Ooh, another freak,” The Joker giggled insanely while he carried on skipping, making over dramatic gestures with his arms as he did.
She shuffled down the puddle covered streets with baggy jeans on along with her hood up so that the morning sun was kept from her eyes. No-one gave her a second glance while they grabbed their coffees in one hand and briefcases in the other. She mindlessly wandered until a shop selling TVs catch her attention; not that she watched it that often – only to see the news.
“News today; Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises has donated money through his ‘Wayne Foundation charity’ to help pay for a new police department after an explosion caused by one of the city’s criminals. People are reminded to not go out after 6pm until police have arrested the escaped men and women,” Instructed a middle-aged women while a clip, of Mr. Wayne shaking hands with a police offer and flashing his perfectly whiten teeth in a smile, played behind her. A crowd had now formed around the TV so she silently slinked off.
“Why the hell did you just do that?” Sneered the Joker, pressing his forehead against her which was transferring the white paint he wore.
“Well, despite your attempts you’re still just a man, you still have your…temptations. And, being a criminal as well I know that it’s hard to find someone and then you have to actually have to show them some compassion which means it would be so much easier if they where dead, but I don’t think you’re a necrophiliac so-” She explained before breaking off into a hysterical laughing fit releasing from his hardening clamp around her wrists.
The Joker entwined his fingers around his newly polished knife that he picked up during the explosion before forcing the blade’s side into her fragile skin; only enough to cause pain but not break skin while he began to laugh maliciously.
“I hope you realise what you’ve gotten yourself into toots,” Mumbled the Joker into her ear before loosing his grip then slipping into the night leaving her to stand there with a smirk.
As the Joker skipped through the streets while twirling a pocketknife in his hand some piece of debris fell just as he put his worn, brown shoe down, pinning it to the ground. The Joker tilted his head as if imitating a confused puppy while his tongue flicked over his lips. With a swift moment he clutched the paper which had its corner rigorously burnt and was now glowing a fading orange. He smoothed the crumpled paper to realise it was a police forum with information; the picture showed the female he had just walked away from. Scrawled next to it was a note saying ‘Do not disseminate, Police department use only’. He stuffed it into his inside pocket, only skim reading ‘distinguishing features; scars’ but the rest had been burnt and had now become a black curled piece.
“Ooh, another freak,” The Joker giggled insanely while he carried on skipping, making over dramatic gestures with his arms as he did.
She shuffled down the puddle covered streets with baggy jeans on along with her hood up so that the morning sun was kept from her eyes. No-one gave her a second glance while they grabbed their coffees in one hand and briefcases in the other. She mindlessly wandered until a shop selling TVs catch her attention; not that she watched it that often – only to see the news.
“News today; Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises has donated money through his ‘Wayne Foundation charity’ to help pay for a new police department after an explosion caused by one of the city’s criminals. People are reminded to not go out after 6pm until police have arrested the escaped men and women,” Instructed a middle-aged women while a clip, of Mr. Wayne shaking hands with a police offer and flashing his perfectly whiten teeth in a smile, played behind her. A crowd had now formed around the TV so she silently slinked off.