Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2012 12:24:50 GMT -5
(OOC: This thread takes place some 3 years before the FBI pccupation)
The cell was dark, damp and cold. The metallic walls were unforgiving, not allowing any light to escape it's black dense surface. He lay on his bed thinking. The hard board was suspended by chains from the ceiling of the tiny room, with only two fibre rags for blankets. His toilet was a plastic bucket in the corner of the box near the bolted metal door. Everything had been taken from him; his gloves, his cards. Everything. Although, it was probably easily justifiable as to why his belongings were confiscated as just last week he'd been responsible for the murder of Prisoner 253 and seven maximum security officers using only paper clip and a pistol.
The banging on the bolted door awoke him from his uneasy slumber. A beam of light broke the gloom of the cell and an aggressive voice shattered the silence. He moaned in annoyance as he swung his legs over the bed and sat in a upright position. Burying his head in his hands, he ran his fingers through his now lengthy green hair. 4 months. 4 months he had been left to rot in this hell hole. 4 long, tedious months of repetitive planing and toiling over a perfect escape plan to go head over heels down the gutter. Trapped, he was truly incarcerated, maybe for good this time. He dismissed this though with a shake of the head as he let out a large sigh.
Slipping his pale feet into his plastic pumps, he stood. He placed both of his hands, palms splayed, on the base of his back. He pushed hard and felt his spine crack back into place. He stretched his arms and yawned. Checking the clock tower that he could see from his barred window, the time was 11:15. Who could possible want him at this time of night. He shrugged his shoulders and simply waited for fate itself to make the first move. He turned towards the iron door as it swung open, emitting a blinding light. He raised his white boiler-suited arm to shield his eyes whilst a shadow blocked the blinding light. Joker lowered his arm as the silhouette began to form the same of a person he recognised.
"Well, this's a surprise I must say..."
The cell was dark, damp and cold. The metallic walls were unforgiving, not allowing any light to escape it's black dense surface. He lay on his bed thinking. The hard board was suspended by chains from the ceiling of the tiny room, with only two fibre rags for blankets. His toilet was a plastic bucket in the corner of the box near the bolted metal door. Everything had been taken from him; his gloves, his cards. Everything. Although, it was probably easily justifiable as to why his belongings were confiscated as just last week he'd been responsible for the murder of Prisoner 253 and seven maximum security officers using only paper clip and a pistol.
The banging on the bolted door awoke him from his uneasy slumber. A beam of light broke the gloom of the cell and an aggressive voice shattered the silence. He moaned in annoyance as he swung his legs over the bed and sat in a upright position. Burying his head in his hands, he ran his fingers through his now lengthy green hair. 4 months. 4 months he had been left to rot in this hell hole. 4 long, tedious months of repetitive planing and toiling over a perfect escape plan to go head over heels down the gutter. Trapped, he was truly incarcerated, maybe for good this time. He dismissed this though with a shake of the head as he let out a large sigh.
Slipping his pale feet into his plastic pumps, he stood. He placed both of his hands, palms splayed, on the base of his back. He pushed hard and felt his spine crack back into place. He stretched his arms and yawned. Checking the clock tower that he could see from his barred window, the time was 11:15. Who could possible want him at this time of night. He shrugged his shoulders and simply waited for fate itself to make the first move. He turned towards the iron door as it swung open, emitting a blinding light. He raised his white boiler-suited arm to shield his eyes whilst a shadow blocked the blinding light. Joker lowered his arm as the silhouette began to form the same of a person he recognised.
"Well, this's a surprise I must say..."