John Doe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pathofvigilante) wrote2019-04-03 08:27 pm
pathofvigilante) wrote2019-04-03 08:27 pm
(no subject)
{WHO:} John Doe/The Joker (Telltale!verse) and Bruce Wayne/Batman (Comic!verse)
{WHEN:} Begins early evening
{WHERE:} The Triste Cafe; various
{WHAT HAPPENS:} We heard you were down a Joker so we sent you a new one
{WARNINGS:} John Doe is his own warning. Probably violence. TBA
So the thing about Arkham Asylum is that sometimes, what's real goes kind of wonky. Things like time lose a lot of context and part of that is likely the medication cocktails served to the antsy inmates. Not that John has to take them. Fooling the orderies is easy, but he doesn't; he takes his meds because he doesn't have a reason not to. If he can be all doped up and let the time slip through his fingers, than why not? So when Bruce shows up at his cell door, he's not entirely certain it's not a fun hallucination. The feeling doesn't fade as Bruce leads him outside, and into the incognito batmobile dressed in sharp cherry red. He thinks he remembers falling asleep in the back seat...
And then he was waking up to the smell of rain.
He's still in Gotham, he's almost positive. Things seems right, but they also seem off at the same time and John begins to wonder if he's taken too much medication, or not enough. He could find his way back to Arkham... but he's already out, somehow, and being back there just makes him think of Bruce and Harley so his home sweet home isn't quite the same.
So maybe he'll just see the sights. Visit the old haunts. See if he can find Bruce or Harley or even Bane, any familiar face at this point would do. Well, except Riddler or Catwoman because fuck those two.
By the time he's strolling towards The Triste Cafe, the rain seems to be taking a breath between downpours and a little bit of the richest part of the afternoon before dusk peeks through the broody clouds. He's quick inside; ordering his usual mountain of sugar disguised as an ice coffee concoction and popping back out because he's going for his favourite seat.
There's a scattering of stylish black metal tables outside, some of them under the cover of big rich green umbrellas. John's going for the seat by the flower bushes because that's where he sat with Bruce, that one time, when they had their little pretend 'date'...
Only, someone is already in his seat, and he gets more than halfway to a ravenous temper before he realizes who it is. John is such a loyal stalker, he'd know the back of that coal coloured head anywhere.
"... Bruce? Buddy?" he swings around in front with a fast fluid motion, and suddenly he's sitting the in the chair across the table. He's got no bright red lips but his skin is sure as hell white and his hair, his eyes are poisonous, toxic green.
Eyes that happen to be starring at Bruce with a look of intense admiration and... something else, something almost hungry.
"It's so good to see you!" his grin gets ghoulishly wide and a few giggles shake his sharp angular shoulders. "Like so good," he sips from the straw speared into his sugar shock frappuccino and it looks like he's barely keeping himself from bouncing in his seat. And he's watching Bruce very, very closely. He's not unaware of the details. There's no piece missing from this Bruce's ear but, hey, he can always fix that himself.
{WHEN:} Begins early evening
{WHERE:} The Triste Cafe; various
{WHAT HAPPENS:} We heard you were down a Joker so we sent you a new one
{WARNINGS:} John Doe is his own warning. Probably violence. TBA
So the thing about Arkham Asylum is that sometimes, what's real goes kind of wonky. Things like time lose a lot of context and part of that is likely the medication cocktails served to the antsy inmates. Not that John has to take them. Fooling the orderies is easy, but he doesn't; he takes his meds because he doesn't have a reason not to. If he can be all doped up and let the time slip through his fingers, than why not? So when Bruce shows up at his cell door, he's not entirely certain it's not a fun hallucination. The feeling doesn't fade as Bruce leads him outside, and into the incognito batmobile dressed in sharp cherry red. He thinks he remembers falling asleep in the back seat...
And then he was waking up to the smell of rain.
He's still in Gotham, he's almost positive. Things seems right, but they also seem off at the same time and John begins to wonder if he's taken too much medication, or not enough. He could find his way back to Arkham... but he's already out, somehow, and being back there just makes him think of Bruce and Harley so his home sweet home isn't quite the same.
So maybe he'll just see the sights. Visit the old haunts. See if he can find Bruce or Harley or even Bane, any familiar face at this point would do. Well, except Riddler or Catwoman because fuck those two.
By the time he's strolling towards The Triste Cafe, the rain seems to be taking a breath between downpours and a little bit of the richest part of the afternoon before dusk peeks through the broody clouds. He's quick inside; ordering his usual mountain of sugar disguised as an ice coffee concoction and popping back out because he's going for his favourite seat.
There's a scattering of stylish black metal tables outside, some of them under the cover of big rich green umbrellas. John's going for the seat by the flower bushes because that's where he sat with Bruce, that one time, when they had their little pretend 'date'...
Only, someone is already in his seat, and he gets more than halfway to a ravenous temper before he realizes who it is. John is such a loyal stalker, he'd know the back of that coal coloured head anywhere.
"... Bruce? Buddy?" he swings around in front with a fast fluid motion, and suddenly he's sitting the in the chair across the table. He's got no bright red lips but his skin is sure as hell white and his hair, his eyes are poisonous, toxic green.
Eyes that happen to be starring at Bruce with a look of intense admiration and... something else, something almost hungry.
"It's so good to see you!" his grin gets ghoulishly wide and a few giggles shake his sharp angular shoulders. "Like so good," he sips from the straw speared into his sugar shock frappuccino and it looks like he's barely keeping himself from bouncing in his seat. And he's watching Bruce very, very closely. He's not unaware of the details. There's no piece missing from this Bruce's ear but, hey, he can always fix that himself.
no subject
Because the man who sat down across from him is:
a-) The Joker
b-) dead
c-) apparently going to eat him for dinner/still crazy
There is no plainly visible fear or surprise on his face - just a quick flicker of something very much like shock through his eyes and his carefully composed pleasant neutrality sliding away. There is nothing at all that comes back to replace it.
A second or two of every gear in his head grinding to a very abrupt halt and silence happens before he manages a slightly too flat for the Playboy Prince of Gotham to be believable tone and: "Do I know you?"
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