He was probably the most well versed when it came to the good old trick of playing with fire. It was the sparkle in his eyes, and the passion in his voice whenever someone dared ask what he had done to land himself in such a prison. It was without a doubt that everyone knew who he was, and who he worked for. He was the Joker’s arson – a wildfire and a riot – he was someone to be feared.
Before he had even entered the city, he had found himself neck deep in a long list of criminal offenses that would see him locked up for a very long time. Blackgate Prison had been his home for coming on three years, and each time an appeal came around, it fell through the cracks when the evidence was yet again piled up against him. He was charged with multiple counts of malicious arson – be it buildings, cars, or even the park land area scattered throughout the Gotham City districts. Even then he was facing a good amount of years behind bars – it was only when it began to factor in the double homicide when he was only young, and later the first-degree arson that had claimed the lives of four other people that it was decided he shouldn’t see the light of day again. He shouldn’t be allow the pleasure that was induced by the single strike of a match pinched between his fingertips.
He’s sentence was a maximum of 25 years to life and the dread of all he loved being ripped from his grasp had him pulling at any loose end he had to pray that perhaps he’d be spared by a God above him – it just so happened that that God, had been the clown prince of darkness that tormented the streets of Gotham endlessly.
Upon arriving in Arkham, he was given free range across sections of the city he once dwelled in, and it was far more than he could ever truly ask for. With the half dozen packs of matches in the pockets of his the jacket he tugged over his slender frame, and the assortment of lighters tucked in as well, he was set to destroy everything whenever he felt the urge to do so. There was no one to stop him, and with that kind of freedom, came the idea that he was strong – and when an unstable mind gains unnecessary strength, it can crack.
On that day, it just so happened that he had been teetering along the edge of one of those deep cracks, his attention focused on the depth of the abyss as he seemed blind to what his body did. He saw each strike of a match and inhaled the sweet, sweet scent of gasoline without being in control of what he witnessed. It didn’t bother him tho, and instead he could feel the warmth of those blazing wildfires engulfing the structures of the abandoned car he’d stumbled upon. With the gas tank full still, he could only slip a couple steps back before the car itself exploded, allowing the raging storm of vicious flames to reflect in wide eyes that stared back at it.
You’d think he would have been afraid of what he loved so much – considering the second degree burn scars that stretched across parts of his torso and forearms. But if you questioned, he’d only laugh.
Seemingly lost within his fantasy word as he watched it burn endlessly around him, he almost didn’t capture the spark of a voice piercing through his veil and causing him to blink. It seemed almost instantly that a look of adoration twisted into the dark remark of a scowl as he diverted his gaze down toward the smaller female who had joined him – nonetheless a complete stranger.
“ The fuck do you want …. ? “
