They think I’m crazy, but not that kind of crazy. What’s the surprise, there? I didn’t have any of my new medications, so they saw my face and their guts yelled, “He’s nuts! He’s dangerous!”
They hear the laugh, his laugh, come out of my lips and they make the same mistake Harley does.
I might be crazy, to do what I do, but I am not the Joker. He talks a big game, but when he did this to me he pushed me through the same looking glass that made him who he is today. I’ve seen what it’s like on the other side.
And it’s not that different than being any other sort of disfigured or twisted by accidents of life, except with me they see him instead of the scars. Here’s the secret I’m learning; a clever but cowardly killer went into that vat, and a clever killer who thought his accident had taught him some deep truth about the universe came out.
His ego was so big that when the world reached out and maimed him, reality no longer made sense. Suddenly the story he told himself, the one where he was the protagonist, was invalidated and that meant that everything everyone else knew was wrong.
So now he could kill, steal, and disfigure others as part of a “joke” or in service to “chaos” or because he was the only sane man in a world full of deluded fools. Funny how that allows him to be the main character of the story again. His obsession with Batman just reinforced it all, because if Batman was important and Batman was his opposite and Batman thought he was important that must mean it’s all true!
…man, looks like I went off there. The conflicts with the police combined with meeting Harley has me thinking over things, I guess.
I’m free now, though, with new contacts in the Oracle, and I hear there’s trouble in the Narrows. My network indicates someone is trying to raise the bridges, and trap everyone there with the Arkham inmates. I’ll take care of that, and see what’s going on first-hand.