| NAME |
J-J-Joseph Crowley, b-b-but no one calls me that any more.
| ALIAS |
P-people prefer to call me
SMILEY
| AGE |
Fffffffffffffforty
TWO
| APPEARANCE |
I-I-I-I-I'm roughly five feet n-n-nine inCHES tall, a-a-and weigh about a hundred and THIRTY TWO pounds, a-a-and that's about it, really! T-the hair's DYed green, and the i-i-ink was put on me by fORCe. My b-b-build's really scrawny, funny considering some of the things h-h-h-he made me do! Thin, almost bony fingers, that tremble a little from how much I s-s-s-shake, ribcage showing through the flesh on my chest, that sorta s-s-stuff.
Oh, can't forget about the SMILE. Joker carves them into the mouths of a-all his lackeys, using those k-k-knives of his. The corners of my mouth are torn and scarred in the shape of a nice smile, just like his, since he wants ALLOFUSTOBELIKEHIM.
Oh, can't forget about the SMILE. Joker carves them into the mouths of a-all his lackeys, using those k-k-knives of his. The corners of my mouth are torn and scarred in the shape of a nice smile, just like his, since he wants ALLOFUSTOBELIKEHIM.
| ABILITIES/SKILLS |
C-c-c-cellular regeneration a-a-and accelerated growth. A-a-also whatever genetic fREAK I've become has also dulled my sense of pain. Y-you could shoot me, stab me, burn me, break my limbs, dump me in acid, freeze me solid and I'd still regenerate! The only thing I know that m-m-might kill me is if you ground me to a bloody, unliving pULP.
or decapitation that might work tooor complete cremation
or drowning
Or hell, the other MYRIAD WAYS you could kill someone either by destroying them entirely or without touching them at all!
But that doesn't mean I'm some sorta superman, oh no. I mean, sure I'm actually stronger than most and faster too, but I'm no Superman or Flash. I can't lift cars, I can't run faster than light, I can't stop bullets with my EYES. I age just fine! I'm handy with a knife, yeah, or any other sharp thing you give me, sure! I can beat people to a pulp, sure! But I'm just a man who can't die. A man...who can't die...
I think, if this thing grew on me, I know at some point I'd be able to regenerate lost limbs or organs! A-a-a-and if I had all of my power, I could probably even rebuild myself from clumps of my own flesh! I'd be almost unkillable!
But that's just some stupid fantasy, probably. I'd never get that far. Not while I'm in this damn place.
But that doesn't mean I'm some sorta superman, oh no. I mean, sure I'm actually stronger than most and faster too, but I'm no Superman or Flash. I can't lift cars, I can't run faster than light, I can't stop bullets with my EYES. I age just fine! I'm handy with a knife, yeah, or any other sharp thing you give me, sure! I can beat people to a pulp, sure! But I'm just a man who can't die. A man...who can't die...
I think, if this thing grew on me, I know at some point I'd be able to regenerate lost limbs or organs! A-a-a-and if I had all of my power, I could probably even rebuild myself from clumps of my own flesh! I'd be almost unkillable!
But that's just some stupid fantasy, probably. I'd never get that far. Not while I'm in this damn place.
| BACKSTORY |
I was originally from
J-J-J-J-JOKERLANDHOMEOFTHELAUGHTER
ANDSMILESANDFUN
FORALL
ANDSMILESANDFUN
FORALL
b-b-but I wasn't already l-like this, o-o-o-oh no, I was n-n-n-normal once! W-w-w-when the Joker decided to make my h-h-h-home of M-M-M-Miami part of his twisted MASTERPIECE that he calls J-J-J-Joker Land.
S-S-S-See, he's a r-r-r-real nutjob! He forces the men to-to-to work for him or die! Those that do c-c-cave in to his demands are made into clow-clow-clowns, like I was! They have to force a s-smile at all times and do whatever he says, no matter how TWISTED IT IS. I s-s-s-spent a good long while under his iron fist, a-a-and look what it made me. I h-h-hate what I've become! IT got worse when I found out I had powers! Like, who in the world would pass up the only clown that could recover from being shot?! Or from being burned? Or beaten? Or DISSOLVED IN ACID?!
T-t-that's right, I was a f-f-fucking joke! Within a joke! If there weren't any people to make fun of, they'd string me up and take potshots at me! Baseball bats, pipes, bullets, knives, shit I don't know how much crap they threw at me and hit me with, and still I wouldn't die!
That's when the big cheese himself took notice. A minion that couldn't bite it? He reveled in senseless death man! Even for his goons, they bit it almost as quick and as regularly as the other idiots! But here, in me, Joker had a reusable plaything! So he used me alright. Used me in many things! Set me on fire, threw me in acid, ran me over with a truck, he even threw me off the top of a roller-coaster for Pete's sake! I've been crushed, frozen, exposed to his laughing gas, cut all over and more horrid things than I can bear to remember...and still every week he'd find some new, twisted way to torture me for his amusement.
Then, like any other toy, he threw me away. He had his fun and he got bored with his indestructible puppet. I went back to being just another minion, but I'd had enough of him! Call me insane, but I tried to kill him once. I took one of his carnie knives and lobbed it at him, and when that didn't work I charged at him! I charged the fucking Joker! But he didn't even crack a smile or anything either! His other goons caught me first and then threw me in here to rot! That's how I ended up here, in the worst prison in the world.
I needa get out of here. I have a wife and kids to get back to! They need me, no matter where they are...and I'll do anything to get back to them.
ANYTHING.
Even if it means killing the Joker.
S-S-S-See, he's a r-r-r-real nutjob! He forces the men to-to-to work for him or die! Those that do c-c-cave in to his demands are made into clow-clow-clowns, like I was! They have to force a s-smile at all times and do whatever he says, no matter how TWISTED IT IS. I s-s-s-spent a good long while under his iron fist, a-a-and look what it made me. I h-h-hate what I've become! IT got worse when I found out I had powers! Like, who in the world would pass up the only clown that could recover from being shot?! Or from being burned? Or beaten? Or DISSOLVED IN ACID?!
T-t-that's right, I was a f-f-fucking joke! Within a joke! If there weren't any people to make fun of, they'd string me up and take potshots at me! Baseball bats, pipes, bullets, knives, shit I don't know how much crap they threw at me and hit me with, and still I wouldn't die!
That's when the big cheese himself took notice. A minion that couldn't bite it? He reveled in senseless death man! Even for his goons, they bit it almost as quick and as regularly as the other idiots! But here, in me, Joker had a reusable plaything! So he used me alright. Used me in many things! Set me on fire, threw me in acid, ran me over with a truck, he even threw me off the top of a roller-coaster for Pete's sake! I've been crushed, frozen, exposed to his laughing gas, cut all over and more horrid things than I can bear to remember...and still every week he'd find some new, twisted way to torture me for his amusement.
Then, like any other toy, he threw me away. He had his fun and he got bored with his indestructible puppet. I went back to being just another minion, but I'd had enough of him! Call me insane, but I tried to kill him once. I took one of his carnie knives and lobbed it at him, and when that didn't work I charged at him! I charged the fucking Joker! But he didn't even crack a smile or anything either! His other goons caught me first and then threw me in here to rot! That's how I ended up here, in the worst prison in the world.
I needa get out of here. I have a wife and kids to get back to! They need me, no matter where they are...and I'll do anything to get back to them.
ANYTHING.
Even if it means killing the Joker.
| SAMPLE POST |
A small tape recorder sits on the dust beneath a chain link fence. There's a tape within it, fully wound. Upon rewinding the tape back to the start, a grim message plays...
What sounds like scuffling is heard for a few seconds, and when the recording resumes, the voice that comes through is all too familiar...
The recording stops, presumably as the Joker rewinds the already recorded segments to listen to what has been recorded.
A firm whack is heard through the recorder's speaker, and a scuffle follows, one that tapers away as the recorder presumably falls out of reach of either man. Shortly after, a thud and clatter as the device hits the floor, coming to rest in the spot you found it earlier. The recording follows, but significantly lower in volume than before.
The Joker's maniacal laughter fills the speaker as Smiley's frenzied pleas for help die out as he's taken away. The laughter slowly dies out as well, and the rest of the recording is the relative silence of Joker Land, marred by the occasional screams and twisted carnival music in the distance.
Now, perhaps you should run from here. One of the clowns might find you...and who knows what they'll do to you.
Now, perhaps you should run from here. One of the clowns might find you...and who knows what they'll do to you.
| NOTES |
I l-l-l-l-like ch-ch-ch-cherry soda!
I-I-It looks like
BLOOD
but d-d-d-doesn't taste like itwhich is g-g-good!
