has convinced me to don the war paint again, this time in a collaborative effort. J is going to be interviewed by an intrepid journalist, a character wholly of dandyxrandy
's vast imagination. The character sketch and interview questions belong to dandyxrandy
. The Joker's answers belong to me because, apparently, my egg is just cracked enough to be believable. Imagine that. We won't be using all these questions/answers. This is more of an exercise toward the greater goal that will become the final product. So this is a brainstorm of sorts.
Name: Jessica Lee Striker
Birthday: August 2
for Gotham Times Jessica Lee Striker
is a new fiery reporter, looking for any unusual job, taking the bull by the horns. She is interested in the relationships of politics, scandals, and justice. She's a writer of peace, a writer of war, a writer of whats right and wrong. Her views on the world are neutral, giving her an upper hand when interviewing someone who has a set goal. She gives the exterior of being a bit of an airhead but once she is in a solitary room with her other to get the facts, she turns into an intellectual monster. She's a contradiction.
Jessica Striker was brought up on a small country farm house, always told that writing and anything dealing with the arts would get her nowhere. Hard work and sweat was what she lived with until she was eighteen. On her birthday she was whisked away by her aunt to join her in Gotham to study under a veteran journalist. Once her first publication was published she became a small instant hit in the journalism society. The column was labeled 'Gotham? Of Bats and Clowns.'
She has written a sum of one hundred and seventy-two articles, six two page editorials, and several small edits. She hit the ground running. The woman has had connections with the mob, but none illegally so. Her main goal in this world is to reveal the raw truth, not facading a word.
Now that The Joker has arrived on scene she has become fascinated with his views, watching and reading anything he has to offer to the public. She has become a secret fan and only wishes to sit down and talk to him, not like a shrink to pick his brain, but someone who just wants an inkling of insight. She understands that there are several layers to the man. She just wants to know at least one. Batman
is another she would dearly like to meet. She supports him almost as much as the clown. It's good versus evil, heaven and hell, the Devil and an Angel. But for now she has to suffice with the mob, the gangs, the cops, and the politicians.
Writing is her passion.
Truth is her justification. Where did you originate from?
Well, where does anyone originate from? It's not like I'm a product of parthenogenesis. It's not like I was beamed down by Scotty or chanted out of a secret pyramid by a gaggle of Thelemites. What sort of question is that? Are you serious? ::looks at her with honest curiosity. Is she really serious? Better question still, did she think he was?
On many accounts you have told different versions of how you obtained your scars. Why are there so many? Do you know the truth yourself?
Every scar demands a story. By the same token, every story demands a new scar. That's why there're so many because one always feeds the other. Of course I
know the truth. But I ask you, are you brave enough to bear the scar in order to hear the story? If it's not for money, not for power, not for control, than what is it all for?
Like I told the Chechen, it's about sending a message. This world we live in, this little hamster wheel of a world....it all seems so meaningless, don'tcha think? Everyone gets up at the same time, depending on what shift they're assigned, they eat the same bland breakfast while being told how unhealthy it is for them, yet very few make enough money to buy the foods we're told are
healthy. Then everyone grabs their chosen mode of transportation or the mode chosen for
them, and off they go to do their mindless little jobs and to what purpose
? The more sane everyone pretends to be, the crazier everyone is going. For a society so enamoured of freedom, it seems to me that everyone is pretty much a slave.
I am not. I do as I please, when I please, and how I please. Now..now you can either learn and live by my example, get out of my way, or die trying to stop me. Your choice. How do you view the people of this world now?
Chattel. Slaves. Tools. The hordes that delight in the blood I spill as they sit in their dark living rooms and watch on TV, but the first to condemn me when the sun comes up and the Bat has been lauded as "saving the day." You know. Hypocrites and knuckledraggers
who would see an original idea flying at them like a brick and stand there to be brained to death by it rather than try to catch it or dodge out of the way. All it would take is three days of no electricity, maybe even less than that, to reduce our enlightened civilisation to the depths of Witch-burning depravity that would put the Auto-da-Fe to shame. How did this all begin. How did you begin?
::smiles and taps the side of his nose::
Nosy little thing, aren'tcha? ::just raises his eyebrows and looks at her, the smile broadening to the point of the absurd:: What made you want to install this 'chaos' into Gotham?
A wise man once said, "Write what you know." I know Gotham and, so, I'm writing that first. Some view you as a monster, some view you as an anarchist, some may even view you as a person with idealistic views, how do you view yourself?
I see myself as someone who is not afraid to come to grips with who he is or what he is. Humans so often try to lift themselves high above what is considered the baser life forms, but I submit that humanity is the basest of life forms on this ball of mud. Why? Because we don't want to associate ourselves with our true animal roots. We pretend that we're above your basic day-to-day savagery and, by denying this truest of our natures, we find ourselves perverting who we are and becoming the very worst of what we so very desperately deny. Therein lies the greatest joke to me. The ones who decry me the most are the ones who are, by far, guiltier than I'll ever be and of much worse crimes.
I'm a human animal. We all are. The difference is, I know it and the rest of you don't. There is a theory that the insane aren't insane at all but are a form of a super-sane person. What do you classify yourself as?
Smarter than your average bear! I'll leave the classifications up to those who like to classify things and people and...stuff. You know. Virgos. Do you have any remorse for killing any of the people? What about the children who don't know right from wrong and have yet the choice to make their own decisions?
Oh don't even get me started on children. The only differences between children and adults is children don't have to take responsibility for their atrocities in our "society" and children are vastly more honest than any adult who wants to fit in our "society" would ever have the balls to be. I have remorse for the truly innocent who've died in the war: the non-human animals. Everyone else is simply a casualty in a war that should never have begun in the first place, with "modern man" proclaiming a kind of civilised nature that's not only a bad lie, but also a really bad joke. (Jess is going to be a bit bold and brave, even a bit lippy)
Are you going to kill me when we finish?
::gives her the most direct gaze she's ever received from anyone, causing her to thrill and quake simultaneously::
Well...what do you
want me to do? You one of those kinksters who likes to follow known killers around in hopes of a cuddle only to be surprised right to the very last breath, realising it's not all it's cracked up to be? Or is that a genuine question out of concern for your livelihood? Maybe it's a little bit of both. Maybe you think you deserve some special dispensation because I'm even talking to you. Or maybe you're hoping that I might see something special in you and have an epiphany that little journalist girl is the one
. You don't look like a Mary Sue. Don't act like one. What do you want people to know about you?
I have a scar story for every last one of them up to and including a scar to go along with it. Get in line. It ends right around that corner, my beautiful lemmings. What is your message?
What makes you think I have a message? Just because I'm all about sending messages doesn't necessarily mean I have one. That takes too much....planning. Batman is Gotham's hero, yes, but why are you so keen in finding out who he is? It would be like asking you to take off your own mask. All we would find is a man underneath with ideas.
You're assuming a lot here, you know. First of all, what makes you think I don't already know who he is? And what makes you think this is a mask? And why do you think that, if I wiped off my war paint, you'd find a man with ideas underneath? You seem terribly sure of yourself, when you should certainly be sure of nothing, considering whom you're interviewing.
What else you got, Ms. Jess Striker Down?