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 PYX - THE JOKER, the joker
Posted: May 23 2012, 12:15 PM


THE JOKERTHE JOKERUNKNOWN . HEATH LEDGER“They say there comes a time in a man's life when...when he isn't quite sure who he's become. That he has to find himself...discover himself. Learn what makes him who he is - what makes him happy, what makes him morose, what makes him...tick. And...and that when he finds those answers...that he has to step into the world and prove himself...unveil the person he's evolved into. And blah-blah blah-blah blah-blah. But see...the reality is...the reality is that the world doesn't care really about you...it doesn't care about who you are or where you've come from or who you've become......until you threaten it.And then, all of a sudden, your face is...is...plastered up on every newspaper, on every television newscast. Everywhere you turn you...you see yourself staring back at you in black and white - and it's attached to just...the most horrible words; massacre, murder, cold blood. Every media outlet has their own take on you - theories and diagnoses and opinions and reports. Details are spilled - no matter how trivial they are...details that...that define you; where your clothes come from, where you spend your time, the fact that no one knows your name. So the media gives you some appropriate moniker and a modus operandi...all of it based on some drivel they borrowed from some bumbling cop that gave a thirty second interview...and...and Mister-Thirty-Seconds-of-Fame, the cop no one ever paid any attention to up until his face graced the television...his words becomes law.Deemed a psychopath, you're shipped away from society, locked away behind bars...because you're...you're a danger to yourself and everyone else. There's this whole team of shrinks with...with their psychobabble...uh...rather, their significant speculations...and they put you under a magnifying glass...and they analyze you...scrutinize everything you say and everything you do. They write down your day-to-day routine...how much you eat and sleep, and the interviews...the mind-numbing interviews you have to sit through to appease them. And...and they relay all of it to the hungry public. They build you into this complex character that elucidates the whys and whats and hows of your actions. Because the public...they want answers...everyone wants answers. Everyone wants to know that your downward spiral is yours alone...that they are somehow immune to whatever it is that made you snap...that they couldn't possibly become the monster you've become. And these doctors...they push you...and they watch and wait for you to...to crack. And...and you become this...this abominable dissident to some...and a...ah...some sort of hero...to others. And yours becomes this household name spilled out over bowls of sugar-coated cereal, mentioned at the office in passing, scattered into conversation when there's just...nothing else better to talk about. Everyone becomes an antipathist...and they fixate on you...want to admonish you...want retribution...want you to redeem yourself. They wait for your reparation...for your apologies...your inevitable change of heart - because eventually everyone, no matter how depraved they once were...everyone eventually becomes human again. So the world wants to know that you regret your actions...that you're seeking forgiveness for all the wrong you've done.See...the people of Gotham, they...they have this notion...this absurd notion...that things are going to get better - that they're going to be saved from their bogey-men, and all will be perfect and peaceful...and...and happy. They've been promised justice...and security...they've been promised a city that will, once again, thrive.Would you like to know the truth? The truth... is that no one...no Bat...can promise that. No one can assure that sort of...serenity. It's a sick, sad world we live in...with sick, sad people. And some of them won't be content until it's burned to the ground.But you see...chaos is...an art. Someone just has to start the ball rolling. Society...and order...they are...fragile things. Things that are easily...broken. One small insignificant tear and everything begins to unravel. It's like...like sanity. They're all just...relative terms. Boundaries. All boundaries are good for is...is holding you back. That's why the only...reasonable way to live in this world is without them...No rules. No routine. No regimen. But...now...that's crazy talk. Crazy talk. And...I'm really not crazy...I'm not. So quick to diagnose, those Arkham docs...before they spend any sort of time with you. All their facts are pulled from newspapers, from police reports. You can spend an hour talking about your family..really pouring your heart out to them...but they've already slapped a label on you. They blame your alcoholic father, your abusive mother...define you by a few key incidents in your life. And if your story changes...well...that's a whole new set of problems, isn't it? They don't like that...when details get altered. Ruins lots of good paper...and time...oh, how it wastes their time. But you see, if I'm going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice. And they just...can't understand that. It doesn't fit in with their textbook equations of how a human mind is supposed to work. So eventually they quit. They just stop sending anyone in to talk...they stamp your file as uncooperative, and they prescribe a few meds. Some cocktail of pastels to keep you calm. Keep you tranquil. Something to keep you from coiling your fingers around the locks of some harebrained orderly, who has the audacity to stare at you just a few seconds too long...and ripping his pretty little red hair from his skull...scalp and all. And they forget about you...they leave you on your own...with your thoughts...the noise in your head...to rot away in a cell, with only yourself for company. Only yourself to talk to. And maybe...maybe a straitjacket for companionship...if they think you're a threat. See...apparently I'm a threat. Me! You know what I think? I think insanity is a misunderstood term. So I...I blew up a few buildings...and maybe I might have hurt, you know, a couple of people. But...but...there's...a guy out there wearing a mask with pointy ears and a cape...a cape...and..and he's jumping out of alleyways attacking people. And I'm the one locked away? Now that is crazy.But I'll be out soon. It isn't a horrible place...but you just can't do much from a cage. And...I've found my ticket out of this prison...this madhouse. Little blonde thing that...that I'm getting to know. I knew it the first time I saw her, before she opened up that pretty little mouth of hers...that she was my way out. Cute kid...impressionable...though she's...she's not too bright. You know, a few sob stories here and there can go a long way. So I cracked her open like a book...and now it's just planting ideas in that head of hers...and just biding my time. She'll eventually see things my way. I...I know she will. And once I'm back out there...back in Gotham's embrace...things in this city are going to change. Me? I'm...I'm just trying to help Gotham get over their little...insecurities. This city is...is on edge. Someone needs to fix that. And, really, I...I just want to help. Do my part as a devoted citizen of this fine metropolis. Some would say this city is...is hopelessly damaged beyond any type of...reasonable repair. They say the foundations are cracked, that it's all coming down eventually. Think of me as...the wrecking ball to give it a...just a little nudge. But...I'm really not...a...ah..bad person. See...you just...can't have order without a little chaos. So they label me a...a criminal...but really I just have a very peculiar way of...doing things. ...But...but you'll see. You'll get used to it. You will. Everyone does.”PYXLADY . TWENTY-SOMETHING . CST
Posted: May 23 2012, 06:54 PM

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congrats! proceed to make your character claims
face claim who's who contact info
Wee, he's awesome. :D A chaotic stamp of approval from everywhur. <33 I can't wait to start plotting with you again love.~~

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