The man who called himself Joker was bored. In fact, he'd been bored for a good month, now, and nothing seemed to be picking up. Sure, he had practically a legion of hired thugs rampaging through the city at any given point, but he felt like he was running out of steam. He was pretty much constantly directing his men this way or that, fighting against police, rival gangs, and he had the far more organized and established mob taking notice of him. When he had first started his reign of crime and terror, however many months ago that was, it had been fun, blowing things up, running down pedestrians on the sidewalk. He had set fire to a school and had his men set up inside, shooting every fireman who came in to rescue anyone. At some point he found out there was a guy online posing as him, beating up homeless people and running around like a chicken with its head cut off for views. He had him strung up between two buildings, right in the middle of downtown, and hijacked a news station again, for a little PSA. No one was going to try to be the Joker. Not while he was around. But maybe... He sat up, something of an idea forming. But maybe someone like him wouldn't be so bad. Not someone pretending to be him, he wouldn't stand for that. But maybe a similar minded person, someone to cause mayhem and chaos with. Two heads had to be better than one, right? Part of him said no, that he was the only one who really got it, the only one who really saw the punchline. Even his men were only in it for the money and general lawlessness of it. The rest of him was desperate, though. Desperate for any sort of change, any sort of lifeline out of this empty void of fun and destruction. He got ready to make another PSA.
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Gotham watched with bated breath as the Joker once again stood before then. When the Joker was on TV, something bad always happened. Jim Gordon scrambled to get as many men as he could to the news station. People were going to die today. They always did. Bruce Wayne watched, unable to make himself look away. He knew what was about to happen would be in his dreams, but he didn't care. He had to watch anyways. He was a coward and he deserved it. Jonathan Crane watched as well, though with significantly less interest. This Joker was a self centered idiot, who wouldn't know the true delight of fear if it hit him in the mouth. Alfred Pennyworth was unconscious, sleeping off a major hangover after what was effectively his sixth night of partying that week. It was Wednesday.
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The Joker readied himself, slicked his hair back, and breathed. As much as he wanted to burst out laughing at what was to come, he had to make an entrance. The look of surprised horror on the newscasters' faces never got old. He couldn't give himself away just yet. The weatherman finished up, really he didn't know why they kept that portion in. Gotham was always dreary, gray and overcast. All the years he had spent there and he didn't know that he had once seen a sunny day. He stilled himself, trying not to giggle at the thought and kicked the doors open. He nearly had to stop himself from bellowing out "For Sparta", but managed to keep his composure. At some point they'd probably start chaining the doors shut or something, and then he could have a "Here's Johnny" moment. He laughed at the thought. They had, however, started having an armed security guard stand in with the news, but the overweight man was just as surprised as the newscasters and was dead before he had his gun out. The Joker strode in front of the camera, hopping up onto the large desk on set and addressed the city yet again.
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"Gotham! Let me tell you, it is so good to be here, and seeing all of you here today. I've got some news for you today, so I think I'll take over for you guys." He turned to the newscasters with an especially winning smile and put a bullet in each of them before resuming. "You see, I don't think you guys understand why I'm doing all this. I'm not here just to hear myself talk, though that certainly is a bonus. Nor am I doing all this crime...ing... criminaling... whatever, just for the crime's sake. Just to get rich or whatever the hell. I'm doing all this because it's fun! And it's been shockingly less fun as time goes on. Very disappointingly so. So I think to myself, Joker, why are you trying to do all this alone? Two's company, right? So why not find somebody who enjoys this just as much as you do and work together? So that's what this little chat is about. Because, as of this moment, I'm looking for a partnership. I'm down by the docks if you want to come sign up. It's the building painted purple and green with a massive smile on it. You can't miss it." The Joker grins at the camera and hops up and starts to walk away. "Hold on, I remembered something. Commish Gordy!" A smile. "I know you're watching, and I want you to know that I have a list here" he pulls a few sheets of paper out from his jacket with a barely visible list of names and pictures, "of all your guys, what they look like, and their addresses. If a single cop shows up to my little soiree, they and their family will die. If anyone wearing a wire or anything similar shows up, I send this little paper to a few rivals of mine, we'll say as something of a peace offering. You get me? Hahaha, I know you do." The overly colorful man walks away.
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You know, this seemed like a good idea.
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The Joker looked out at the crowd that had grown, far larger than he'd thought it would. Half the idiots there looked like they'd run to their nearest Spirit Halloween and grabbed something at random. The other half... He looked at the man in front of him, dressed entirely in green with a massive kite strapped to his back. "You said your name was Kite Man?" "Hell yeah!" "Hell no." The man walked away, crushed. He didn't need this guy, he'd go be a supervillain on his own. Stupid clown.
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I really, really regret opening my doors to these freaks. Ha, and that's saying something, coming from me. Worst part is, I have the sneaking suspicion that half of them will keep coming back, even after I tell them that, no, I don't need someone dressed in a twenty dollar pirate costume at my beck and call. One guy actually showed up wearing a gimp suit. I had him shot in front of everyone else. You have no idea how... How absurd it feels to look at people like Kite Man seem as normal, well adjusted members of society.
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The woman looked up at the line. How was it so long? It felt like she'd been there for hours. And everyone in it either very obviously wanted to be mentally ill or they were some weirdo in some sort of homemade supervillain getup. She was almost glad to fall into the second group. Surprisingly, or maybe not so, now that she stops to think about it, the two categories didn't often mix. And she could tell the difference. She earned her PHDs, fair and square. It was her job to tell when someone was actually criminally insane, and what their issue actually was. These people had problems, for sure, but not any sort of actual diagnosable disease. Maybe a decided need for a knuckle sandwich. Or a therapist. Or a father figure. But none of them should have been here. Not her. She was devoted. She was going to be the one who was picked, not any of these losers. She knew her puddin' like she knew herself and he was gonna pick her, dammit! Breathe, she told herself. He ain't gonna want ya if you're all pissed off when he finally gets to ya. She decided to look around at all the freakshows around her. Directly in front of her, for example, was an extremely overweight man who had managed to stuff himself into a red and black latex jester's outfit, and she idly wondered if or when he was going to have a heart attack. He was certainly red enough in the face. He somehow felt her gaze and twisted his way around, grinning as he saw the beautiful woman behind him. He needed to see a dentist. She tried not to meet his eyes and prayed to anyone listening that he wouldn't talk to her. Apparently whoever was listening said no. "How d'you do?" He chuckled to himself, very obviously pleased with his charm. She willed the line to go faster. "Fine, thanks." Please, let him get the hint. "Amazing opportunity, isn't this? To work with Joker himself? I'm positively giddy at the thought of it!" She smiled weakly at him. "Yep, real glad to be here." Whoever heard her was laughing at her, now. "So, beautiful, what's your name?" Here she perked up. She wanted to crack his skull open for calling her beautiful, but she couldn't hold in her excitement about her name. It was perfect, after all. Like it was meant to be. Fated. "Harley Quinn." She tossed her head back and smiled, proudly. She didn't care about the guy in front of her, she was Harley Quinn and she was gonna be with the Joker by the end of the day. The man in front of her chortled. "Oh, that's very good, I like that." She wished she'd just told him to mind his business. "Me, I haven't been able to come up with a proper name, but that's a very good one. A pretty name for a pretty lady." She looked again to the front of the line. This was gonna take forever.
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The Joker looked at the very fat man in front of him, stuffed into a very, very tight outfit. He was very red in the face, nearly matched the red on his outfit, and looking for all the world like he was going to keel over at any moment. The man stepped forward, bowed as far as his prodigious girth would allow, and puffed out, "I am... The Harlequin." which was immediately followed by a scream of rage from the small woman directly behind him. He almost hadn't seen her there. She pounced on him, and immediately started trying her hardest to pound the contents of his skull into the concrete. "YOU STUPID ----!! YOU STUPID, STUPID ----!!! YOU FLIRT WITH ME FOR ------- HOURS ON END AND THEN YOU STEAL MY NAME?!? I'M GONNA SHOVE THAT STUPID FACE OF YOURS SO FAR UP YOUR --- YOU'LL BE ABLE TO SEE YOUR ------- STOMACH LINING!! I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU STUPID, FAT ----!" The Joker, to say the least, was shocked. This was probably the most entertaining thing that had happened all day. Unfortunately, the rest of the day had drained his patience far more than he thought it would. One before the fat man, he had decided only one more person, and then immediately regretted it when the guy waddled forwards. He stood up and blew a hole somewhere in the poor guy's mangled face and decided enough was enough. "Alright, today has sucked! Anybody still in here in the next forty-five seconds is going to need a coffin. We clear?" There was a pause and then the still (still?!) vast line of people started scrambling to be the first out the door. All except the woman who still kneeled on the fat guy, now looking absolutely stricken. "No! Please, Mistah J, you gotta give me a chance, we're perfect for each other!" The Joker looked down at the woman, seeming near tears, and sighed. "Have you any idea how many confessions of love I've had to deal with today? You were keeping count, how many was it?" He turned to the man in clown makeup next to him who had been keeping order. The man looked at his clipboard, flipped a couple pages and quickly counted the tally marks. "Twenty three, sir. Eighteen from women, four from men, and one from that gimp suit guy." "Yeah. Make sure somebody shoots him again." He turned back to the woman. "Twenty three, can you believe that? And every one of them sure they were the one for me. And, just as I told them, I'm really not looking for any kind of relationship. Now leave." "No, Mistah J, please-" He gestures to the door. "Leave" "Mistah J-" The Joker starts walking towards the exit, trying to corral and shoo her out, waving his arms, still holding the gun the entire time. A pair of his men follow from a short distance. He'd tell them when he wants them to get involved. "Get out. Out, out out out, I will shoot you. I don't want to, cause the little spat with Harlequin or whatever-" "I'm Harley Quinn." Joker shifts and turns the gun on her. "Don't interrupt me. As I was saying, the little spat with whoever he is, then, was funny, but I will shoot you if you don't get out of my base. Leave. I'm done with the whole partner/ sidekick/ whatever deal, and it was a bad idea to begin with. I'm sure you're nice, but I don't want any part of it, got it?" "Please, Mistah J, I love you!" "Okay, you're crazy. Guys?" His men step forward and bodily lift her by the arms, carrying her out the door. To her credit, she doesn't go quietly, and kicks and screams the entire time. The Joker falls back into his chair and groans. Today was not a good day. And now, to top it all off, he had a headache. He waves the guy with the clipboard over and tells him to get an aspirin. Now, with his best idea a complete bust, he needs a new one. Great.
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