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The Joker was not the most pleasant of people to be around.
Yes, yes, understatement of the millenium aside, he wasn't. He was a dangerously psychotic killer who could kill you on a moment's notice if he found it amusing enough.
This, naturally, meant that scientists and psychologists were always eager to study him and find out what made him tick. Joker would always be cooperative at first. Until things got boring. Or insulting. At which point he would escape and murder the
scientists in a variety of creative ways.
But Joker had to admit, this was a new one on him.
"Magic? Seriously?" Joker giggled. "You're so desperate to 'cure' me that you'd resort to making deals with the devil?"
The scientists glared at him. "We didn't make a deal with the devil," said the lead scientist. "We've managed to acquire some artifacts that the government had."
"Right, deal with the devil," the Joker teased, infuriating the scientists even further. "HA! Hey, don't feel bad! I got me some DAMN fine cee-gars in exchange for my soul! Granted, my guy was a more obvious devil. Neron was the name I believe. Charming
fellow. Little fruity, though." He giggled. "Then again, I've been flirting with Batman for years, so who am I to talk about fruity?" He began cackling, that evil, unnerving cackle he was famous for.
The scientists shook their heads. "Let's hope this works," the scientist said. "Activating analysis wave."
The scientists activated the devices, the ancient-looking artifacts in the power chambers powering up. Joker watched in amusement, wondering what they'd do. The machines short-circuited, and started to blow up, Joker laughing as a wave of energy surged
through the connectors and into his brain. His laughter briefly turned into a scream of pain, and he collapsed, unconscious.
The doctors stared at him, and at the device.
"Fuck it," said the head scientist. "Throw this animal back in his cell and let's go back to the drawing board..."
The guards, grateful this nonsense was over, dragged the Joker back to his cell, ignoring Harley Quinn's angry protests as they threw his unconscious frame back in his cell, locking the door behind him.
He slept for two days, missing the transformation that half the world's population went through. The transformed half discovered they liked it, and wished that it would have always been this way. The other half had their minds altered so that they remembered
that the transformed half of the population, throughout history, had always been like this, the world changing to accomodate it.
Only one was immune to the change. The Joker's mind, still surging with magic, blocked the mind-altering wave. When the magic faded, Joker slowly came awake.
"My my my, what a nice nap," he said. He looked around, expecting to see his tight, cramped cell...
...only to find that his cell was much larger now, and much more comfortable.
And there was no door.
"...Dear me," he said. "How long was I out?" He stroked his face. Nothing there other than some light green stubble. "Can't have been too long, I don't have a Rip Van Winkle beard." Another thought occured to him, and he felt his body in various places.
"No one's tried to rip my winkie either," he said, giggling. He hmmed thoughtfully, and said, "Either I've been moved or the place underwent a fast renovation around me. But the question is, do I go investigate? Or do stay here and wait for something to
happen?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "There's also the thought that this whole thing is a trap set up by the Bat. If so, then he must like me, to go to all this trouble." He gasped excitedly. "Could he finally be willing to go all the way and kill
me? Oh frabjuous day!"
He then scowled, huffing. "No, no, this doesn't feel like Bats at all," he muttered. "No style, no grim panache..."
Joker shrugged, and made a decision.
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