Chapter Text
A man recalled reading once that when a person dies, their sense of hearing is the last sense to go. So why is it that all he can hear is laughter?
The cackling stopped, and it was quiet. A silent void of darkness took hold. Then, a light appeared. It wasn't a distant light in the sky at the top of a staircase. Nor was it the signal of a bat calling out for a savior in the night. It was a lone light bulb hanging over a dirty padded cell. The man in question blinked in confusion. Was he Jack? He was fairly sure of it. He knew his name started with a J, at the very least. John, perhaps? His head was aching miserably as he tried to comprehend where he was. He stood, trying to get a bearing of his surroundings. The door to his cell was open. He stepped out to see what looked like a hospital of sorts. It had long been abandoned, left in disarray by its inhabitants. It smelled awful as well, like a rat had died in there. Or worse.
At the front desk there was a bowl. A fish was watching the man. It had a pasty white face and green fins, holding a grotesque yellow grin. It made him feel uneasy, enforcing this feeling that he was forgetting something important.
He wandered deeper into the building, and it slowly evolved. All the walls became padded, and the light grew dimmer. He approached a room with a large metal gate. Red light creeped through the gaps in the door, and he felt uneasy about what could be on the other side. The gate activated, its many locks coming undone, and with a chime he could almost recognize. The door was lifted, allowing the man inside. He came to a dead stop when he saw the sights it had in store.
They were human bones. Hundreds of skulls stared at him, piling up in grotesque positions, leering at him with their bone grins. He fell back, his breath hitching. He pushed himself up, his heart quickening it’s pace, and so he forced his feet to run at an equally quick pace. He ran, past all the bones, past all the hands that stretched out in agony reaching for vengeance. He ran past all that death, and opened the next door, slamming it behind him, panting. He slid down the door, sitting on the floor as he tried to fight this terrible headache. And then he saw something horrible, something that struck deep in him, in his very core.
The floor was wet. That was the first thing he noticed. Then he realized that the hallway behind him was gone, replaced by the walls of a decrepit apartment complex. He tries to flip the light switch, but it refused to turn on.
A power outage? He approached the puddle, his foot bumping into something. He bent over to inspect the object. A baby bottle heater? There was something bigger further ahead. It was a body. His heart sank with dread, and his head began to ache. He approached the corpse.
It used to be a woman, and she had been pregnant. Now it was nothing but a skeleton, with a tiny skeleton in its stomach. He could hear something ringing in the back of his head. Jack fell on his knees, hands sliding to cover his face. He was beginning to remember. The sides of his head were screaming in pain, and he clutched at his aching head as he tried to keep moving forward. His knees shook, threatening to give out. He wanted nothing more than for the pain to stop.
He ran out of the room as fast as possible, but he tripped over something and knocked him down. He turned to look at whatever made him fall. It was a red dome, large enough to be worn over his head. He was starting to remember more, and hating every second of it. He gritted his teeth and threw the red hood against the wall, shattering it. The red shards floated in the air for a moment, then flew into the wall across. The man realized the walls had changed again. They were the gritty concrete walls of a factory. A place familiar. The hall stretched ahead, leading him to the next horror. He stopped walking. The man stood alone, gripping on to his forehead. He didn't want to remember anymore. He wanted to just stop. He wanted to forget it all. All these vile, repulsive little brutes he called memories.
The red shards of the dome molded into the wall, creating a large red door. A sign above it was glowing green.
An emergency exit. No, not just any emergency exit.
He thrust the door open. A green whirlpool revealed itself below, the only remaining light source. The breeze came into his face, and he smelled the pungent and sour aroma of acid. Finally, finally, a smile slowly crept into the man's face. His eyes shone with a lunatic look.
"Madness. Madness is the emergency exit."
He took a step forward, leaning over the vat of chemicals. He leaned forward, and gravity pulled him down. He splashed into the insanity of the vat, and he sank, totally submerged.
It was dark. So, so very dark. The man floated in the darkness, curled in a fetal position as he sank down in the abyss. He felt... adrift. Floating. As if somebody had pulled the stopper in his reality and he was being sucked down the drain into something new. He had felt something similar before, but he didn’t think it was this intense before. But this feeling brought back questions. How did he get here? He just couldn't remember. His memory was fuzzy, like when he was being locked up in Arkham, being pumped full of drugs, leaving him in a state of confusion where he could hardly even produce a single coherent thought.
It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, mind you. It's kinda similar to the state of mind you could achieve by meditating. Or maybe yoga? At least, I think it does based on how normal people go on about it.
He sank deeper into the abyss, feeling colder. The stinging was growing now. He descended, and he began to see a light. It was red. He felt himself break through the acid and fall, as if he had been in a floating lake in the sky. He plummeted down, rapidly picking up speed.
His eyes finally opened. The corners of his mouth lifted into a tight grin. All he could do was laugh. He let it all go. The memories, the pain, everything. He lived in the moment, his name gone. Everything he cared for and loved, gone. He only held on to one thing, that drove him to keep going.
He opened his mouth and laughed. Laughed without a care in the world. He laughed so hard his throat hurt. His eyes watered as his chest heaved. His body plummeted rapidly through the sky, and he spread his arms open like the wings of a falling bird. Unafraid of death, embracing it.
He could hardly remember how he got to where he is, and now he was about to make a big splat on the ground. Like a baby in a dumpster. Or maybe more like a lake, or a vat of acid? Regardless, he hoped he would make a good punch line. He opened his arms to embrace the cold hard reality, as well as the cold hard concrete coming towards him at top speed.
"Geronimo!"
He did make a remarkable splat in the middle of a street. He definitely broke many bones in his body. In fact, he was quite the mess, blood and guts everywhere, and bones poking out in odd angles. But the grin never left his face. He slowly stretched out one shaking arm, and dragged himself along the road. He could make out some figures, but they didn't seem to pay him any mind. He dragged himself along an alley, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He finally reached a dead end, and he sat down, giggling in a corner and bleeding. He closed his eyes, and he felt consciousness leave him.
The man's body rested in the street for a long time. He didn't really hear much besides the walking of the crowd and the honking of cars. Eventually, the noise died down, except for several pairs of feet. They huddled over the unconscious clown.
"You think he's dead?" One voice speculated.
"No way. He must be a new sinner. I saw him fall. He'll probably come to any second now." Another voice joined in, a little more nasal. Annoying really.
"You think he's tasty?" the first voice asked, their tone taking a turn for the weird.
"Knowing you, you mean more than just food, right?" The second one sighed.
"What can I say? It gets boring out here."
“I dunno, man, he seemed kinda freaky. Laughed the whole way down, he did. Maybe a masochist?”
There was the sound of two heads being smacked together. Like coconuts. A third voice began speaking, clearly annoyed at the two.
"Could both of ya shut yer traps? We got shit to do, and fast. We're on a tight schedule. Especially today, of all days."
One of them grabbed his feet and began dragging him down the alley.
The man's eyes slowly opened, and he quickly sprung into action, instinctively kicking his dragger in the face.
"Fuck! He woke up!" His feet were dropped as the assailant backed off.
The clown analyzed what appeared to be a group of odd creatures. First one seemed to resemble a red possum. Red skin with occasional white marks, and don't forget the horns! Also a small pointed tail to top it off. Almost like what you see when you search the word devil online.
His friend, now he was something else. His face was like a dog's skull, with bright turquoise eyes, and with longer and twisted horns. His torso was a bare ribcage, with glowing organs visible through it. His jaw was slightly unhinged, with drool dripping everywhere. He was rubbing his face from where he had kicked him.
The third and final one looked more like a badger in a tacky suit, with steel tipped boots. He wore sunglasses over his green eyes and was smoking something with a red fume. Was it something good?
"Hm? Oh, good morning, everyone! Or perhaps evening would be more appropriate! Are sunsets usually this red?" The clown slowly stood up, his bones creaking as they slowly snapped into place. He seemed to be in better condition than when he first hit the pavement. He yawned and popped his back, trying to get rid of the cramps he felt along his spine. The three creatures stared at him, confused with his out of place cheery attitude.
"Well, whatever the time, it seems I have no idea where I am! Now, what the hell are you supposed to be? Mutants? Aliens? Super villains?" He slicked his hair back, though it was a little wet with his own blood.
"Uh, you literally just died, and here you are in hell." The bone dog pointed out.
"Hm? Skeletons don't make good liars. I can see right through them! Nye heheheheh" The clown let out a low giggle as he dismissed the explanation as rubbish. After all, he had heard more believable lies all the time.
The trio looked at each other and groaned at the joke. They began to pull out their weapons. The clown ignored them, deep in thought.
"Anywho, I should be just fine. Just start some ruckus, and good old Batman will come and pick me up, and next thing I know I'll be back in the asylum! Foolproof plan!"
"Hey-"
"How should I catch his attention? Start a shooting on live television? Perhaps blow up an orphanage? Or maybe poison the water supply?"
"I think you're getting ahead of yourself, creep." The three pointed their weapons at him. The clown raised his eyebrow at the three thugs.
"Threatening the Joker? And they say I'M crazy."
"Never heard of you. Now, you're gonna come with us. We've been looking for new recruits for the mob, and a new fallen soul like yours could do some good, either as a member or as a snack." The badger puffed his cigar.
"Either kind of snack is fine," The drooling demon added. He bent over to slide a finger over his spilt blood, giving it a taste test. He quickly spat it out, coughing heavily.
"Fuck! That's sour! The hell kinda blood do you have? Blech!"
The clown ignored the question, clearly more disturbed at the lack of recognition.
"Never heard of me? You must be joking. And it's not funny." The clown’s smile left. The three shrugged in response. They were completely clueless.
"I'm the Clown Prince of Crime! The Ace of Knaves! The Jester of Genocide? No bell ringers??"
"We really don't care about who you were when you were alive." The demons smirked at the ever-so-losing-his-patience clown. The badger took out a chocolate bar and began munching on it. Meanwhile the drooling one just gave out a wink.
"Honestly just say no, it's getting boring, and I could go for some fun."
"Listen, we promise you'll be fine. There's no way fresh meat like you'll survive out here on your own. Just come with us, and we'll give ya a nice job. Or we can cut ya up. Yer gonna be our property one way or the other. Question is whether you bite the bullet first."
The Joker closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing. The gears inside his twisted mind began to turn. Then the grin returned to his face.
"Speaking of which, fellas, what do you call a slow bullet?" He asked, taking a step closer to the thugs. They looked at each other in confusion. They weren't expecting a joke during these circumstances. The red one shrugged.
"I dunno, what do you call it?"
A step closer. He sneered at them, holding on a laugh.
"A SLUG!"
The clown dashed forward, slugging the badger in the face, making him spit out the chocolate in his mouth, mixed in with blood and a tooth as well. Just as quickly, he turned to the other demon, forcing his hand inside the skeleton demon's ribcage and taking hold of the organs. He gave a strong pull, tearing out his insides. The drooling demon collapsed, leaving the Joker covered in blood. The imp froze up, staring at the bloody clown.
"God damn it. This suit was very expensive." He groaned while kicking the imp into the wall.
"At least that's what the guy I killed for it said. So I hope this bone head pays for all the collateral damage." He giggled, looking at the corpse. He never had seen someone's organs just being naturally exposed, begging to be yanked out. It was very satisfying. Like popping bubble wrap. Or skulls. He turned around and walked over the badger, who was recovering from that heavy punch.
"Spare a smoke, friend?"
The Badger looked up in anger, about to tell him where he could shove it, that is until he noticed the blood dripping from his hands. He looked over to see the corpse of his friend, his organs having been violently torn out.
"Uh... sure." He handed him a pack of his ciggies.
"Thank you friend. I think I just might kill you last."
The Joker noticed something off. In the puddle of blood, he could see his reflection. Except, it wasn't his, exactly. He kneeled down to get a closer look. He still had on his purple attire, but what he was looking at was not a human face. While keeping the white face and green hair, his smile was more golden and sharper than ever! And his eyes had reversed colors, the white of his eyes now a green, with white irises. A straight line scarred over both his eyes, reminding him of the older clowns in history. His nose was pointier than he remembered. To top it off, small stubs were beginning to sprout from his skull, though they were hidden easily by his hair.
He turned away from the new reflection, and moved a few feet out of the alley to take a better look at the blood red sky. What he saw was certainly no moon or sun, but a pentagram.
“Well… I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore…”
“You believe us now, you fucking psycho?”
"I suppose you are right. I really am dead... but I suppose that means that numskull over there is double dead, right? Hye heheheheh!"
The imp snorted a little at the joke. Joker's smile only grew, and he turned back to face the badger.
"Remember when I promised to kill you last?"
The clown began to search his jacket, but struggled to find things where they should be. He rustled through his pockets, but they were empty. No guns, no toys. The demon didn't seem to notice what the clown was doing.
"Yeah?"
The clown bent over to pick up the demon's gun. Not a bad one. Smith and Wesson, Model 36 revolver? A little old timey, but not bad.
"I lied." BLAM! The demon toppled over, a fresh bullet hole in his forehead. The wall behind him painted red. The clown then turned to face his new fan, who had stopped laughing, looking at the brand new corpse he had made. Joker bent over, making direct eye contact with the terrified little imp.
"Hey man, listen. We're just doing our jobs, we gotta pick up fresh meat for the boss. I'm just the driver. It wasn't personal."
"It never is personal these days."
"P-please, just let me go, and I'll pretend I didn't see ya ever!"
"That's the last thing I want. Tell you what, I'll let you off if you promise to do a little favor for me!"
"Ok, yeah. I- I can do that. What is it?"
"I don't know! I haven't thought of it yet!"
The clown tapped his chin for a moment in thought.
"Ooh! I know! How ‘bout a grand tour around town? I'm just positive I'll love my new home! Plus, it's about time I introduce myself to the neighbors!"
"I don't know how to tell you this, but we can't stick around much longer."
"Oh? And why is that? Don't tell me you're a shut-in who doesn't know any good places!"
"Y-you see, the yearly extermination is gonna happen soon. When that clock strikes 12."
The Joker's eyes followed the imp's pointer finger towards a big clock, currently showing the time as 10:45. He raised an eyebrow at this, turning back to the little red possum.
"Yearly exterminations? I'm a clown, not a rodent."
'Right, you're new. Every New Years, angels come down to massacre everyone on sight, so we gotta bail before the clock strikes 12."
"That sounds... delightful! But, today is December 21st, isn't it? At least it was the last time I checked the damn calendar."
"That when you died? Yeah... it's been a week. Guess there were some delays in your judgment. Did you have something of yours going on after you died? Or maybe god really wanted you dead, looking at the timing of your dropping in and all..."
The clown cracked a smile. Perhaps he managed to get the attention of even the pearly gates above. If he did, then he really was the best at what he did. And now that he thought about it, he did leave behind a couple of tricks in the event of his demise, though it came a bit sooner than expected.
"Yeah... I did leave some things behind. But wait, oh no..." He slapped both hands on the sides of his face in horror.
"W-what is it?"
"Did I really miss Christmas? Aw, damn, now how will I ever get my presents? I was really looking forward to that stretching table I put on my wish list. I wanted to see if I could make my good friend Penguin a wee bit taller. Ha!"
"I- sure. But listen, if we get caught in the middle of it, we'll die for sure. The exterminators are fucking deadly, with holy weapons that can even kill the sinners."
"Wait, didn't I just kill these guys, though?" He pointed back at the two corpses.
"Uh, sinners like them, since they were once human, can't really die. But Drolly and Clyde here, they'll probably be picked off when they show up."
"Mhm, that'll do then. Now, I imagine an expert like yourself has a little hideout to avoid these exterminations. Why don't we start there as our first visit for the hellish tour?"
The imp hesitated. Joker grinned and patted him on the back.
"Come on, the clock is ticking! Tick, tick, tick! "
He clicked the hammer of his gun to emphasize his point. Which was not missed, by any means.
"Y-yes, sure... I'll give ya a ride."
"Good boy. Tell you what, since I'm in such a good mood today, I'll let you off the hook. You'll be my first friend, and now it's time to have a little sleepover! Uhehehe!"
He stretched his hand out to offer a handshake. The imp slowly took his hand, realizing this is the best way to avoid dying.
"You should be thankful. Within the year, you'll be able to tell the tale of how you got to meet the Clown Prince of Crime. I'm sure just from looking at you terror stricken that you'll be able to spread quite the scary reputation for me. A step in the right direction! Now go, friend! Lead the way to our great shelter!" The Joker broke into another fit of laughter, while the imp reluctantly led the insane new demon away from the bodies of his former friends.
The Clown and the imp drove deeper into the dark red metropolis, apparently called Pentagram City. Not a very creative name, mind you. It wasn't too different from Gotham, if you ignored the more obvious differences, such as being in hell. It appeared that the Joker had landed in the middle of a plaza, which had just been cleared out, as nobody wanted to stick around when the exterminators showed up. There were a few stragglers, of course, but most people were wise enough to hide in the one day of the year they can really die. Nobody had noticed the Joker because falling demons was a common occurrence. At best they would feel pity for him falling down on the worst day imaginable. But Joker did not feel unlucky at all.
Joker had insisted that the demon play a song of his choosing. So the clown put on a song he thought would fit. Highway to Hell. His companion didn’t verbally complain but did give off a light groan at his music choice.
The Joker had pocketed the belongings of the other demons, figuring that they didn't need them anymore. He asked the imp questions about hell, while playing with his stolen revolver. On the other hand, he eyed a newspaper the imp kept in the glove compartment. The demon in question eyed his weapon, finding that telling the truth is probably the best way to not die.
"The exterminators are angels from heaven? I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. The idea of angels reeked with self righteousness."
"Heh, one thing we can both agree on. They show up every year to slaughter us to help with overpopulation. New sinners show up all the time, so we need to make room."
"That's certainly one way to do it. Say, if demons were all human, what's your sin?"
"Huh? Nah, that's not how it works. Lots of us are born here. You'll find many more hell born demons in the other six circles of hell."
"Is that right? So are you not immortal?" The Joker raised a brow, toying with his gun. The imp stared at the clown for a moment before quickly catching on to his train of thought, and tried to change the topic.
"Er w-well, we can take more hits than humans, and we do eventually die. But we got real long lifespans. In fact, sinners like yourself don't age, so if you live right, you'll live forever."
Joker seemed to calm down with that. Something else must have come to his mind. He stared out the car window, deep in his thoughts. The imp sighed in relief at whatever the distraction was as they drove through the city.
"What's that building?" He pointed to one of the many glowing towers. This one held a large sign labeled Le Venin Cabaret.
"That? That's one of the many places owned by an Overlord. This one is Vox's, I think. Bastard likes to buy a lot of those. They've got plenty of 'em all over. Not even the biggest one. Sick asshole's inviting people to watch us struggle down below. Rich assholes gonna be rich assholes, am I right?"
The imp smirked a little, earning a raised eyebrow from the clown. He watched the tower for a short while, before moving on.
"Anyways, what are these circles?"
"Oh, that! Well, hell's made up of seven rings. Seven deadly sins bullshit they yap about in the human world, ya know? We're on Pride Ring right now. To move around we go this big elevator. But it hardly matters for your kind. Only hellborn demons can travel between the rings."
"Why's that?" Joker questioned.
"U-uh you see, it's just against Hell's laws. Magic barrier would keep you out."
"I never thought demons would care about such things."
"Normally, no, but you just don't fuck with the ones on top. Even if you can't die, they'll make hell a lot worse for you. You just either stay away from overlords and big crime bosses, or you work for them, like me. Speaking of which, I should probably let my boss know about Drolly and Clyde getting wiped out."
The demon stopped when he heard the click of a gun. He quickly realized his mistake.
"I-if it's alright with you, sir! Heh heh..." He chuckled nervously at the clown, who stroked his chin in an exaggerated ponder. He then shrugged.
"Eh, do what you want. Don't care much about them. Even if your boss comes after me, I think I'll have some fun in return."
"I know you're new here and all, and even if you got lucky in your first fight, I don't recommend trying to get to our boss. In fact, it's probably for the best if you stay away from any of the big shots."
"Well, my dear, er-"
"Krimbo."
"Well, Krimbo, I was once a big shot too. And no way in hell, pardon the pun, would I stop! Besides, now with a new audience, I can redo so many gags. No shame in telling some old jokes to a new audience, right? You don't think they'll mind, do you? I really feel like I should take his mother's teeth and form a smile on his desk!"
The joker got caught in a fit of laughter. The imp laughed nervously beside him, sweating buckets as he described his sick fantasies. Sure, people in hell were fucked up, but this took the cake. He focused on the road, driving them to where he had planned to hide out with his friends during the extermination.
The clown's laughter suddenly stopped. He looked very serious all of a sudden. He stopped toying with the gun, glaring outside the window.
"This place might be a lot like back home, but it's missing one thing. The only thing that made it all worthwhile. Batman." The clown frowned, his eyes turning blank as he suddenly had lost all emotion. The car was silent for a while.
"Well, if you're, uh, hoping to get revenge on this guy or something, you could just wait until it's his turn to die. There's a good chance he'll then get dropped here.”
“A goody two shoes like him? Unlikely.”
“I wouldn’t call it impossible. I’ve met plenty of folk who were surprised to wind up here. A lot of folks get sabotaged one way or another."
Joker pondered for a moment. Slowly, the grin returned to his face, twisting his face in a sinister way.
"You may be right. Thank you, Krimbo. I almost lost sight of my goals for a second. I just might not kill you after all."
"Uh... thank you?" Deep down the imp sighed with relief. Was he getting out of this crazy situation after all?
"Well, this is the place. 13th floor's my base." The car came to a stop in front of a wide building with many boarded up windows.
They both stepped out, approaching a dirty old apartment complex. It was garish, ugly, and smelled like piss. He couldn't tell if it was bums or rats, but it was piss.
This was where the Clown Prince of Crime was going to stay? Ugh, what a bother. He noticed a small flier attached to the wall.
Hm, what is this? An advertisement for a night club of sorts? He recognized the building from before. Wow, there sure seem to be a lot of very important people gathering in one place. Overlords and guests to gather and watch the Exterminations? Sure, he already heard about it, but it may have some... potential. Ooh, it looked rather expensive, too. Hm, what to do? Killing an overlord sounded fun. But could they even die? That imp said that sinners were immortal by everything except the exterminators. Perhaps he shouldn't rush things. Like that little creature said, he had all the time in the world. And he was going to savor every minute of it.
Besides, a night club sounded better than this mudhole.
"You go right ahead. I think I know where to go next. Somewhere more fun. Do try and not worry about it. I tend to be impulsive at times."
"Uh, alrighty then. Take care."
The imp raised an eyebrow, but didn't question the decision. He was more thankful that he wasn't coming. Meanwhile the clown's grin grew even wider, which he hadn't thought possible.
That imp's words had reignited something within him. He may just reunite with the bat.
He may be a supposed fighter for justice, but he doubted he would last his whole life without succumbing to sin. He was really close to pushing him to the limit himself, so surely Bat would snap someday. So he planned to live long enough to create a welcoming present for him when his time came to come down here. Besides, there's an itty bitty chance Joker might find a way to escape this literal hellhole. Claw his way out of hell and back to Gotham, with some new unholy powers to boot. His mind began to formulate plans and schemes. Joker was convinced he would see him again, and that definitely brought a smile to his face.
"Well, Krimbo old chum, do make sure never to forget the name of the Joker. Here's something you can remember me by." His grin widened as he whipped out his revolver and shot the imp in the foot. He yelped, falling down on his ass. The clown watched in amusement as he imp held on tightly to his foot, enjoying the trembling demon's terror.
"Ack! What the hell... I- I did what you wanted! I gave you a ride, answered your questions. Even gave you a god damned pep talk!" He backed away on all fours away from the man in purple, showered in red light. He hummed some old nursery song, pleased with himself.
"My dear naive boy, have you forgotten where you live already? And to think, you've been here longer than me!" He clicked the hammer of his revolver.
"But, I am a man of my word. So I'm not going to kill you."
The Clown unloaded his clip into the imp's legs, laughing at his blood curdling wails of pain being drowned out by gun shots. He stopped at the clicking of the empty chamber, taking a look to admire his handiwork.
"Now that was a blast, wouldn't you agree, Krimby ol' chum?"
The imp could do nothing but whimper in reply.
He stepped over the blubbering imp, kneeling down to make direct eye contact with his prey. He grinned as he watched the imp quiver in fear, eyes beginning to water.
"Now, what floor did you say you lived on?"
"The- the 13th floor..." the imp's eyes widened at the realization of how far the safety of his home was.
"The unluckiest number! Now that is funny! And you've only got an hour to drag yourself across these stairs to get to your sweet shelter? I doubt any of the other residents would be so kind as to let you stay in their turf."
"You better hurry and crawl up those stairs. Wouldn't want to be caught outside during this extermination, would you? Sayonara!" He picked up a pair of keys the poor bastard had dropped. He waved farewell to the crippled demon, who struggled to make his way up the stairs. Then he took a ride in his stolen vehicle, going deeper into the Pentagram City, excited for the sights in store for him.
Now that was exhilarating! He turned the music on and drove away.
The Clown Prince of Crime was dead and kicking, in the depths of hell.
"Hell, home of the vilest and most wicked creatures alive? Ha!" He took a huff from the stolen red cigarettes of the thugs who were stupid enough to take on him of all people. Any ordinary Gothamite would've cringed at their behavior. But this was a new city. A new stage. And it was for him to claim. The Joker grinned widely.
"Wait 'til they get a load of me."