Get Scared

Joker didn't know when the obsession with Batman started, but he couldn't deny that he had one. The vigilante was just too interesting to ignore. He came, did what needed to be done, and left. He was too fair, too dark, too mysterious.

It bothered Joker that he couldn't read the man. He took pride in his ability to look into a person's eyes and see what kind of person they were. The cowards, the heroics, the romantics - he could see it all. It was part of the fun in killing, striping away ever wall the person had built, looking into their soul and understanding them in their last moments. Right before the knife came down.

Yet when he stared into the Batman's eyes, he saw something familiar. He some himself. Before he'd gone crazy, before he'd become the Joker.

Batman's eyes held pain, the same pain Joker had tried to bury. Batman knew loss, he knew hurt. Was that why he did it? Joker paced up and down the worn floorboards of his hideout - an old apartment building. Those eyes were maddening, he wanted to understand them, needed to understand them.

Maybe that's when the obsession started. With the eyes. When Batman held him by his neck over the edge of a building. The first good look in the eyes.

Joker sifted through the pile of newspaper clippings on his beaten coffee table, sitting down on an ancient couch. Batman was the subject every article. Determination shown in the dark eyes of the clown as he lifted one of the photos of the elusive hero, walking to a spot on the stained walls, he pinned the picture to it, grinning as he did so. He pulled out a tube of his favorite lipstick, drawing his signature clown-smile on the masked man.

They were so alike, Batman and he. They both ran on the same thing: pain. One of the major differences between the two, perhaps the only difference, was what they chose to do with that pain.

Batman was a hero, always doing what must be done to protect the city. A Dark Knight watching over an even darker city. The hero they needed, but certainty didn't deserve. He lived on logic and strategy.

Joker despised logic. He didn't want money, he didn't want to avenge anything. He wanted to win, win the game that was life. A game that many people did not know they were playing.

And Joker was the wildcard.

Batman didn't realize how similar they were, he didn't want to accept it. But Joker did, Joker knew. One look in those eyes and he knew, they were the same. All it would take was a little shove, and Batman could be just like him.

Perhaps in a different world, it would be Joker apprehending Batman, perhaps they would've been friends. More than friends. Batman may refuse to admit it, but Joker had no trouble saying that the two completed each other.

He spun in a circle, laughing at the peeling wallpaper and dusty furniture. Every inch of the wall was covered in clippings like the one he'd just hung up.

He'd find a way to show that bat, all he needed to do was find out his identity.

"Who are you, my dear Batsy? Under that mask?"

He chuckled, collapsing onto the couch, once he discovered who the Batman was, then, then he could really have some fun.

Whoever it was, he needed to be rich, male, white, young. So who matched the physical description, financial description, and most importantly, emotional description. He had to have some sort of traumatic back story.

A smile contorted Joker's scarred mouth, he knew exactly who matched that description.

All he had to do was make sure. To do that, all he had to do was look into the eyes of Bruce Wayne.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bruce was brooding. Laying in his bed for the past three hours, unmoving, trying to block out the world around him. He rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. The police had torn down the Bat Signal, all because of Two Face, Harvey Dent. He'd had such high hopes for the man, but now those hopes were squashed. Hense the brooding.

Alfred entered the room, drawing open the curtains, sliding the window up to let in some air. "Master Bruce, you've been in here for hours, don't you think you should face the day?"

Bruce thought that was a terrible idea, he just groaned, blinking in the harsh light of the sun. "Please Alfred, can you close those."

His butler heaved a sigh, doing as he was told, but leaving the window slightly cracked. He receded to the doorway, "Sir, you really should get up, your habits lately are beginning to resemble those of a real bat."

With that, he left, leaving Bruce to brood once more. Eventually, the millionaire fell into a fitful sleep.

A few hours later, Bruce awoke, keeping his eyes shut tightly. The only sign that he was indeed awake, was the change in his breathing pattern. Light began seeping through his eyelids, hadn't he told Alfred to shut the curtains? And what was that strange weight on top of him?

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," came a sing-song voice from above him.

Bruce's eyes snapped open and he looked into the eyes of the Joker, face inches above his own. How did he know who he was? How did he find him? The Joker was staring into his eyes intently, as if searching for something. Bruce was frozen in shock, gazing at the man hovering above him. He suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was only wearing boxer-briefs.

The clown cackled, his scarred mouth covered in sloppy lipstick. He pulled out a knife, sliding it along Bruce's jaw, shaving away any stubble. How he managed to do that without drawing a drop of blood, Bruce didn't know. But it was hella impressive. What was even more impressive was that the Joker had discovered who he was, either that or he wanted to harass Bruce Wayne for some reason.

"Oh, I know who you are, Batsy dear," the Joker said, as if reading his thoughts.

"Why are you here?" Bruce asked, still too stunned to think properly.

Joker's smile grew impossibly wider as he shaved the other side of Bruce's jaw with his knife. After finishing, the villain sat back on his haunches, ass on Batman's crouch. Bruce sucked in his breath as Joker flicked away the tiny hairs on his blade, leaving it gleaming - ready to kill.

The maniac licked his lips, running a finger along the weapon's sharp surface, he opened his mouth to say something, but Bruce moved first. Without thinking, he flipped them over, knocking the knife out of the clown's grasp. Bruce pinned the other down, growling with rage.

Joker clicked, chuckling as he did so. Then his eyes moved to something behind Batman, he started laughing, "Oh Batsy, what you do to me."

Bruce furrowed his brows, going to see what he was looking at, but before he could, the Joker pressed their mouths together. He used Bruce's shock to free his hands and grab the sides of his face, holding him in place. There was a small noise behind him, like the sound of a door closing.

Immediately, the clown pulled away, wiping his mouth, smearing his already smeared lipstick. He grinned at Bruce's bewildered expression, "Couldn't have your butler interrupting such a special moment now could we?"

The Joker burst into laughter, using Bruce's confusion to flip them over once more, gaining the advantage. He pulled out a dagger, long and twice as dangerous looking as the previous one. He pressed it against Bruce's neck, "Don't pull that again, I'd hate to have to mar that perfect skin of yours."

"You wouldn't kill me," Bruce spat bitterly.

"Ha! You're right, I wouldn't. We complete each other, Batsy boo," the clown ground his hips against the man beneath him, "I wouldn't dream of it."

Joker leaned down, pressing his mouth against Bruce's neck, "But kill and hurt are two very different things."

He playfully bit Batman's ear before sitting up again, knife still pressed threateningly against his throat. He giggled, "No, what I want is much more simple, wanna be my friend?"

Bruce spat in his face. The thin man giggled, giggles turning into laughter, then he straightened his expression, still chuckling, "Take a joke, that's not what I really want."

His face turned blank, serious for once in his life. When he spoke, it was in a low, even tone. "I want to watch everything you love burn."

With that, he began to convulse with laughter, watching with glee as Bruce's expression fell, "What have you done?"

The clown simply cackled, gracefully jumping off the other man, dashing to the windowsill. He blew Batman a kiss before leaping out the window.

Bruce leaped out of bed and ran to the opening, only to see the busy streets of Gotham below. The Joker was gone.

I found a cure for me

A fucking remedy to walk these streets

I felt the fear and loathing constantly

But you won't let me be

So now you'll feel my longing animosity

It's taken so long

To see through everyone

And now the time has come

To show you what I'm made of

And thus the story begins.