A Three Jokers Orgin story. So there's been a lot of Joker in the news lately. Lots of debate about giving him an origin story. Should he have one? Should it be multiple choice? Should it be a mystery? Well I'm curious by nature. I love the origin s...
The boss changed more and more with every passing day. Changed as is beyond just in the physical sense. It's somewhat difficult to really explain it. It wasn't just any one thing that I could pinpoint, it was a ton of things. Enough things really to say that boss was a completely different person. There were only five of us that worked with boss before he decided to start calling himself the Joker. We were really the only ones who watched him change. That shit he fell in had done something to his mind.
Jack Napier had technically just been a kid. But he was a kid who acted harder than a twenty year seasoned mob man. He was serious and always wore a poker face. He rarely smiled. The only thing that made him smile was his wife. I didn't understand why he killed her anymore than he claimed to.
But the accident seems to make it remarkably easy for him to forget about her. On the outside anyway. Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of loss in his eyes. Some days, when he doesn't have things to do, he seems to sink into depression. Maybe it has something to do with the dead wife, maybe it was just the chemicals? I just know that the boss is exhibiting signs of instability.
Today he held a parade in downtown Gotham. He rode on this big float that was built like a jester head. He wore a purple suit and threw money to the crowd. Naturally they immediately loved him. But that was all part of his plan. The public was where he had to hide out. It's easy to have your tracks covered for you when everyone loves you.
But after the parade the bosses mood turned dark. He went into his office, slammed the door, and has been in there for about five hours now. We've all just left him alone. We honestly didn't know what he might do to us. We already know he has zero problem murdering people who cross him.
Then we heard the sound of breaking glass. Yelling. Cracking. Breaking. Thuds. Banging. And then a gun going off. I gasp and fly through the bosses office door. I find him crouched on the floor, stripped from everything except his pants. His hands are grasping his head. The smoking barrel of his gun rests against his desheveled hair.
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"Boss?" I ask not knowing what was happening.
"He won't stop," the boss muttered and tries blocking his ears with his fingers. "Round and round and round in my head Pop Goes The fucking Weasel...and he won't shut up," he growls. "Do you have any idea what it's like to hear him all the time, always stating his opinions, swaying my decisions...mad mad laughter. Laughing and laughing. HaHaHa! HAHAHA! Aaaaghhhh!" He pulls at his hair and growls again. Then he starts slamming the sides of his fists into the floor, his gun cocked and in his grasp the entire time.
I carefully extend my hand out to him like he were some half rabid cur dog. "Boss? I-i-it's ok boss..."
"Ok? No no no. No it's not normal to hear this shit. Don't you dare try to convince me that I'm not crazy. I can feel it...the...the crazy," he swirls his finger at his head in a 'crazy' motion, "And sometimes its so...great...its like being a kid and believing in the magic of the tooth fairy...It's buying the lie, the illusion. My greatest magic trick against myself." His hands animate his words, words that made no sense to me, that gun in his hand a threat to be fired in his excitement.
