The air was thick outside of the Gotham City museum of art and history. Both the watchmen outside had known this for as long as they had been employed. Yet for the past few nights, neither of them could shake the feeling that there was something different in the air. Something that sent a chill up their spines. As if death itself was looming above the Gotham skyline. Little did they know, however, that death was lurking closer to them then they realised.
It was standard routine. Robert, the younger head of security, ran through the various camera feeds that were installed throughout the entire museum, watching each and every exhibit with a careful eye. While William, the older, more experienced night watchman, paced the hallways of the building itself, staying alert for any and every sign of unwanted activity that would present itself. But after a few hours, going upon three in the morning, both realised that it was going to be the regular slow night.
Looking up at the camera, William gave a wave, signaling Robert to unlock the door to the back room. Robert complied, flicking the switch that would grant him access to the usually locked room, and minutes later, both old friends shared a laugh, letting the stress of their job wash itself away in the bottle of an ice cold beer.
"God, don't you just hate nights like this?", Robert asked. "It's almost like you
want to bore yourself to death. It'd get on my nerves."
"Comes with the territory, kid.", William chuckled. "But no, it doesn't. Not after thirty years of roamin' those halls. I'd feel out of place doing anything else."
"Huh. Interesting.", Robert replied, taking another swig of his beer.
"What's interesting?", William asked, jokingly. "Watching TV and walking a couple halls every night? Tell me how that's interesting."
"It's interesting that they actually pay a couple'a guys like us to do it.", Robert laughed.
William grinned, nodding his head, as he looked up at the monitors for a second, before taking another swig. But as he looked back at Robert, something caught the corner of his eye. Looking back up at the monitor's, William's eyes widened, as he spotted at least five men entering the front doors of the museum, all dressed in bizarre masks and carrying large bags.
"What the hell?!", Willaim exclaimed, angrily. "Those guys have to be nuts to break in through the front door! Rob, hit the alarm. We may need backup on this..."
"Settle down, Will.", Robert stated, stopping the aged watchman in his tracks. "Those are just the guys. They don't mean any harm."
Willaim raised an eyebrow, confused.
"The guys? What, you invited some friends over here?"
"'Course I did.", Robert stated. "It is game night, you know."
"Game night? At the museum? Are you on drugs, Rob?", William asked. "Those guys aren't supposed to be here. Jerry'll fire us both if he catches them."
"Oh, it's alot worse than that.", Robert replied.
William stared, blankly.
"What do you mean?"
Robert sat back down in his chair, grinning proudly as he placed his hands behind his head in a relaxed manner.
"You see, Will, old boy... I'm going to rob the museum. Pick it clean. Take and break everything until there's nothing left but an empty statehouse with alot of blood on the walls."
William's heart stopped, listening to this. And it wasn't so much the ludicrous and outrageous story Robert was telling... it was his tone. As if he were thrilled to be doing this. But that's when William paused, realising something: Robert was giggling. William, in turn, began to giggle aswell. It was all a joke. A bit of a sick one, and a bit too elaborate, but William wasn't going to hold a grudge over a good laugh. So both men continued to laugh for a straight minute, with William rubbing tears from his eyes.
"Good god, kid... you had me going there for a min-"
William stopped dead in his tracks, staring downwards at his own legs. Two knives were plunged into them. In a grunt of pain, William fell back into Robert's chair, as the still giggling security guard stepped back to allow him room. William stared up at Robert, shocked, and obviously oblivious to what was going on.
"Wha... what're you...", William asked, weakly, reaching up at Robert's face.
As the body fell limp, William's dying hand brushed across Robert's face. Gone was the peach color of his skin that appeared to be genuine from William's point of view... in it's place, a snowy white. A deathly white, noticibly irregular of a skin tone as Robert stepped forward, and rubbed a good portion of the peach from his skin, revealing the most horrific sight William would ever lay eyes on... and the last thing the old man would ever lay eyes on.
"Peek-a boo."
As William finally succumbed to the loss of blood through both stab wounds he had recieved, "Robert" removed his coat and hat, revealing a darker layer of clothes underneath, and a vivid green head of hair. The Joker grinned even wider, as he threw the jacket around the old man's corpse, tightly snugging it around the neck.
"Hold that for me, if you'd please.", The Joker requested with a mad cackling, as he threw a switch that manually shut off all the alarms within the building.
Turning back to the old man, he crossed his arms, as if he had expected the corpse to respond to him.
"Now, don't go and be like that. I did give you fair warning, after all. I said they meant no harm. I never said anything about me."
Knowing that the alarms' deactivation was the signal, The Joker watched the monitor's closely, as his cohorts trailed through different sections of the museum, per their instructions. As the chaos began behind the walls of the back room, the door creeped open, as one of The Joker's most loyal followers stepped in, carrying a bag.
"What happened to them?", He asked, as the fresh corpse of the true Robert came crashing down from a closet behind them.
The Joker grabbed the bag, digging in it and pulling out his harlequin mask. He stared at it, intently, rubbing the remaining makeup from his skin as he placed it over his face, embracing it's form as his new one. The Joker then turned, slowly, to address the question.
"That's what drinking will do to you, I'm afraid.", The Joker mockingly answered, indicating the empty bottles of beer at both men's feet.
Pointing towards the doorway with one hand, The Joker handed the bag back to his follower, as he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Now go. Warn the others. For Act II is about to reach commencement."
As the follower nodded and hurried out to warn the others, The Joker turned back to both corpses. Though it couldn't possibly be seen, under the mask, The Joker's grin grew wider than ever before, as he tightened the gloves on his hands. There was much work to be done. But so much more fun to be had with it.
"Well... as my own personal philosphy goes, gents...", The Joker began, approaching both corpses.
"So much to lose, so little time!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Minutes later, The Joker's followers assembled in the hall, as The Joker himself stepped out, carrying two large, covered pales. Turning towards two men near him, The Joker held up the pales, nodding towards them as the men walked forward and took the pales from his hands.
"I want you to spread our word. The masses must become enlightened.", The Joker began, before throwing his hands up and slowly spinning.
"Cover the walls with my message. Make it loud and bold. By morning's wake, the city will learn all they need to know about us. And with hope, they'll abide."
"What if they don't?", One asked.
The Joker paused, placing his hands together, almost if he was becoming increasingly thrilled by that possibility.
"Then things are going to get very ...interesting for Gotham City."
It was nine o'clock in the morning, as the museum's manager opened the front doors to the building. As he stepped inside, nothing seemed out of place, at first. The hallways were darkly lit, indicating that the watchmen had gone home early. The manager smirked, thinking about the night those two clowns must've had.
Turning on the lights by himself, the manager turned around to view the museum. And almost immediately, he fainted from the grotesque sight before him: The artifacts were all destroyed beyond repair. The displays were smashed to bits and sprawled across the floors. Each and every painting was cut up and repasted together, as if the vandalisers attempted to create their own twisted versions of the artwork before them. But perhaps the most haunting visual within the museum was what was on the walls. Painted in deep red, in what would later be realised as the blood from the now deceased watchmen, was giant "HA's" printed over the wallpaper.
And somewhere, that morning in Gotham City, The Joker was laughing. Laughing away the stress of his life with a bone-chilling joke of his own psychotic creation.
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