Humans. Monsters. Heroes. Villains.

Chapter 2: A Suspicious Change

A/N: I just want to say thank you to DCfreakxox  and Madneskes  because they were the first people to comment on this book and their comments made me so happy:] now on to the story!

Nobody is a villain in their own story. We're all the heroes of our own stories.
- George R.R. Martin

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This escape plan was killing him.

After acting up for so long, and basically earning himself the highest ranking of security it was possible to get at this place -

Now he had to downplay it all and act innocent and follow the stupid rules for who knew how long so that he could get back his more "free-ranging" privileges.

The Joker growled in frustration, hitting his head against the impeccable white walls of his cell. It could take months before they would even let him eat meals outside his cell again. Maybe even years. He didn't have months or years. He didn't even have weeks.

The Joker wanted out. Soon.

The fact that he'd been manically giggling and freaking all his guards out for the past two days probably hadn't helped his case, either.

He couldn't help it. The thought of Gotham's reaction when their most feared master criminal from years before returned full force - it was hilarious. The Joker could hardly contain himself when he thought about it.

I mean, just imagine the complete horror and chaos and panic and pandemonium and all the things that could be blown up and -

Anyway.

The Joker smirked to himself and sat up straighter. He was sitting on his plain white bed, leaning against the sleek white wall. Vaguely, he wondered what time it was. Probably almost lunchtime. He'd woken up about 3 or 4 hours ago.

All 3 (or 4) of those hours had been spent plotting. And also making sure not to giggle or chuckle or breathe too loud while doing this plotting.

If he wanted this plan to work, he needed to be on his very best behavior for as long as it took. Which hopefully wasn't too long.

Because the Joker really, really needed out of this white dump. He didn't know how long he would be able to keep up his good-boy act before he snapped.

And if he snapped, there was no way they would ever let him out of this place. Ever. They might even tie him down to a table till he calmed down, which he'd seen done with some of the other patients.

Except if the Joker snapped - really and truly snapped - there would be no calming down. No matter what those white-coated vultures did to him.

So. Moral of the story, be a good boy till your chance comes, don't scare the guards or the doctors (no matter how tempting it gets!) and don't snap.

Easy enough. Probably. But either way, the reward was tempting enough to keep him in line, at least for a short time.

Freedom. And chaos, and Gotham going down in flames by his hand.

The Joker couldn't wait.

Just then, a loud, high-pitched beep interrupted his thinking. There were a series of crisp clicks and swishes, and then he looked up to see the thick metal door (painted white, of course) swinging open.

Lunchtime. His estimation had been correct, as usual. After a few years in this dump, you started to get accustomed to the schedule. Although it was difficult, since it's not like they provided him with a clock or anything.