Note: I know that Johnissoevil did a great one-shot story like this earlier, and he did a wonderful job of that, but I wanted to try my hand at a longer story. I hope people here like it.
At first glance, it may appear to be a typical city, with the predictable array of bright lights, bustling activity, and wealthy playboys. It is certainly not with out its celebrity gossip, conventional crime, or large skyscrapers and a generally comfortable middle class.
Yet, this city is unique in many respects.
At one time, it was firmly in the grip of organized crime, until an adult hero arose out of the burning embers of a childhood ended early by the wretched scene of a child's parents being shot to death right in front of his eyes.
This adult hero had dedicated his life to crusading against criminal activity, and protecting innocent people like his beloved parents. In the process of doing so, he had dealt severe blows to the infestation of crime that stank though out the city that he called home.
However, there are sometimes unintended consequences to noble deeds, and such consequences make this city unique in another respect.
Moreso than any city in the universe, it is home to a great number of the most psychologically unstable, yet theatrical, beings imaginable.
Brilliant... yet insane.
Mere mortals... yet larger than life.
Many dark figures of chaos and destruction, with no respect for life and less for the concept of good, had arisen against the hero who sought to bring order, peace, and safety to his city.
One particular figure had gained spectacular notoriety beyond the confines of Gotham City... even to beings of alien origin.
He slouched upon a couch in the newest out of a seemingly unending number of secret headquarters, with a very uncharacteristic frown upon his face.
He was weary, and terribly in need of motivation.
"Awwww... Mr. J, isn't there anything that I can do to make things better?" came the playful, yet strangely soothing, question of the former psychiatrist turned apparently crazy hoodlum herself, as she leaned seductively over her best friend.
'Mr. J', as he was affectionately called by her, immediately replied with a sigh.
"How many times will he ruin the punchline, Harle?" he asked in great agitation, slowly arising out of his chair, with her matching his movements with splendid choreography, "How many times will that flying rodent manage to avoid my latest mouse trap, and escape with the cheese, while I'm left wanting to whine?"
"Come on, Mr. J..." came the voice of Harley Quinn, such an atheletic and intelligent young woman, though a most dangerous member of the criminal element of Gotham City, "Why don't we knock over a few banks, or go vandalizing a few hospitals, or leave a few smiles to give that old fart Commissioner Gordon nightmares with?"
"Harle..." he came, in desperate and disappointed reply, "Is that the best you can come up with?"
"Well, puddin', your more elaborate schemes haven't been going that well lately..." she piped up in response.
The clown began to pull at his own green, flamboyant hair with these words.
"That's exactly my point!" he cried in abject response, "Every good idea I have... every carefully crafted and sculpted painting of dramatic realism and humour that percolates forth from my mind... even every simple attempt to gain needed finances and resources for our delightful little pranks and shows, Harley... they've all been dashed by him... by that accursed Batman!"
The Joker moved about with great eccentricity, yet also a deep encroaching sense of perpetual failure. Harley Quinn stopped her own movements, feeling very gloomy over not being able to think of any way to cheer up her dear Mr. J.
"You know, Harley..." continued the Joker, clenching his fists, as he moved about wildly, "As much as I love the challenge given to me by Batman, and his friends... what's the point of a challenge if you never conquer it? What's the point of a goal if you never reach it? What's the point of the greatest joke of all time if you lack the ability to concieve of it and then tell it with out others so despicably stopping you from doing so? It's enough to make me wish that I was on another planet!"
"I can help you with that..." came a voice more high pitched than the Joker's, and actually shocking him with its sudden resonace in the Joker's ears.
Harley Quinn, and the Joker, quickly spun around, to determine who had made these words. They saw a very different villianous duo than they themselves looking back at them.
"A skull for a mask, and blue skin?" he asked at the sight of one of the uninvited guests, "What are they going to think of next? An extremely strong barbarian in furry underwear?"
"Unfortunetly, that thought has already become reality..." came the sneering voice of the very muscular man clad in purple leather that walked slowly towards the Joker, "Which is why Beastman and I have sought you out!"
"And who are you, my skin challenged fellow?" asked the Joker in reply, as him and his guest started to size one another up, while Harley Quinn was more than bit horrified at the sight of the people in front of her.
"My name is Skeletor..." he answered, with one hand firmly holding on to his havoc staff, "And I think that I have just the perfect challenge for you, Joker! I need someone like you... I need someone with a clever mind for unorthodox plans... someone far more creative than Beastman here is!"
Beastman frowned over yet another one of his master's all too common insults.
"Well, while it's nice to be wanted... Skeletor, I believe you said..." responded the Joker, leaning in closer against Skeletor to make eye contact with him, "What's in it for me?"
Skeletor simply held out his havoc staff at a table in the room, blasting it to smithereans in one devastating shot.
Harley Quinn instinctively released a most alarmed yelp of fright!
The Joker looked impressed.
"You help me take care of my enemy known as He-Man..." answered Skeletor, "And I'll deal with this Batman for you!"
The Joker looked pleased... very pleased.
He quickly held out his hand to shake hands with that of Skeletor's. Skeletor did not know how to properly respond to this gesture, but the Joker's words said enough.
"You have a deal..." stated the Joker.
To be continued...
Last edited by Canadian_He-Man; December 27, 2006 at 11:27pm.
"I'm not just crying for Hordak. I'm crying for the saddest thing I know - a wasted life. To be given that most precious gift - the gift of living, to do with as we choose. I'm crying, because this man has chosen to throw it away, and when he goes, nobody will care..." - She-Ra ( "My Friend, My Enemy")