Purple Three-Piece (Chapter 1)

Chaos. The love of his life. Well, almost. Except the fear in the eyes of innocent prey and the thrill it induces, nothing compares to the idea of deliberate chaos. And can chaos exist without the false notion of order? The likes of GCPD and his darling Batsy are among its staunch, stubborn and pathetic believers. As he sits beside the continually dripping tap in an old, dingy apartment, he starts laughing. Laughing maniacally.

“hehehehahahahaHAAHAAAHAAAAHAAAAAA!”

 

“Such pathetic creeps. Well, its been a long time since THEY have tasted chaos.”

He was missing the bold patches of dark red on his purple three-piece and the smell of burning, shrieking bodies. He’d been forced into hiding first by the numerous search parties, the wretched blue Boy Scout from Metropolis, dear old Batman and by the dogs at GCPD. Such a star cast was involved only after he’d almost had the pleasure of blowing out the life of the Bat family, only to be forced to fall down a chasm by Batty dearest. At least his family is now ignoring his calls, according to a few singing birds. Now he can have Batman all to himself, and start the age old game of speed chess yet again.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw the derelict television set flashing an advertisement.

“Try our new air freshener! Its the latest craze in Gotham, and its being used from the darkest corners of Blackgate to the brightest booths of the GCPD!! Make the air as vibrant and lively as a clown! Get a can of Jester Joy today!!!”

An ear-to-ear grin registered on his face and he cooed with delight.

“If ONLY they knew. All hail American consumerism!”

Chaos. The wheels of which had already been set in motion. With the mild infusion of the properties of what they call the Joker venom inside each can of Jester Joy, the deranging compounds would stay dormant inside the victim’s system until activated by a common drug that would make the victim stark, raving mad. Planning this helluva operation itself took six months, interleaved with information from various doctors and patients alike. Money and a fake name can do wonders, as he had often found out. Cheap requirements to achieve the stuff worthy of nightmares. Much has been made of the phenomenon known as the spirit of Gotham, that all-enduring will to survive, to maintain sanity. This time, he is not going to destroy the spirit’s symbol, the Batman, but the spirit itself. Best friends stabbing each other, a mother killing her son. Bliss. Gotham will experience madness like never before. Finally, they’ll understand him. Well, maybe not. They might be driven too insane to do even that. There will be a hell lot of chaos in their heads.

And then he tried to remember. He tried to remember which fabrication had a hint of truth in the chaos inside his head. The first instance of mayhem that convinced him that there’s always an easy way out. Go insane. The wife, murdered, with the unborn child inside her. Or was it the abusive father who had his way? Now he’s not even sure which ones are true. The only thing he vividly did remember was his first meeting with the Batman. That momentary shadow, that fleeting silhouette. An unknown fear gripped him, as his generally-calm heart began to race. It was enough to send him running down the plank over the vat of chemical mishmash. Batman was probably lurking in the shadows and suddenly swung in to take him away. He dodged Batman but couldn’t avoid the fall. The fall into chaos. The fall into everlasting madness. And he had Batman to thank, for providing him with an easy way out.

Then his mind started to run over the subject at hand. By the looks of it, and the reports, Jester Joy was doing amazing in the Gotham market. The analysts predicted that almost every home would have the freshener by the end of the month. He had Harley to thank for creating such an invigorating fragrance. Nice girl, that Harley. Too much of a pushover, though. Not his type.

There was a knock on the door. One among his hundreds of street rats had come looking for him. Has to be something important, he thought, or else they didn't have the guts to visit him. In he came, huffing and puffing like he was on a run for a mile or two. That was sure to attract attention. Foolish.

"Boss!"

"Whoa, you look like dear old Robin after I was finished with him. Yes, my semi-idiotic employee, what is it?"

"Yeah..yeah! The bat is still looking for you. He came to threaten me, boss! Beat me to a pulp. Kept asking where you were hiding!!"

"And? What did you tell him?"

"I didn’t say much, except that you might be in Gotham, but I didn't know for sure. Sorry boss, but if I didn't tell him something, he wouldn't have spared me."

"Are you sure I'm going to?"

"Huh? What, boss?"

"Nothing. Now that you are here, get me that rod from beside the bed."

"Here, boss."

With this, he took the rod and drove it through the informant's feet. The informant screamed in agony. Then he pulled the rod out and drove it right through his mouth. He slumped down to the ground with the rod still sticking out of his mouth, able to feel his life fading away.

"Now that you can't shout, I'll let you know why I did this. First, you opened your big mouth for the Bat; and second, you ran till here, where I’ve been hiding cozily. That's supposed to attract attention, right? Anyway, tell me now. Should I kill you?"

All the informant could let out was a groan.

"I'll take that as a yes. Hehehehaahaahaahaa!"

And then he took out his knife and stabbed the informant thrice through the chest, each time slower than the last.

"You have such a good heart. I can feel it in there!"

And it was done. The familiar experience was back. He had missed this for such a long time, having to live like a shadow. Not for long now. But now he had to move. His instinct was telling him that Batman would be here soon. He had already paid for the apartment just across the street, so that wouldn't be a problem. Thus, he left the apartment and moved into the other, but only after he had planted a few explosives under the dingy bed. He took out a pair of cheap binoculars and pointed them at his previous hideout.