Chapter Text
He looked exactly as he had in the film, except he was there, real as day, in the middle of the street. To the untrained eye he was brushed off as an impersonator, a look - a - like, a street performer looking for some change; but as you look closely you see that he is much too perfect for any of the previous to apply. So what? He is the actor advertising for the film, or would be, had the actor not passed away. He was the real thing, the character come to life, perfect in every detail.
His unruly, badly dyed green hair framed a face which would be deemed very attractive, if not for the make - up which covered it. Make - up, in fact, is the wrong word; war paint might be more appropriate. His face was completely white, but for the black around his dark brown eyes which held great, calculating intellect, and the red smile which reached his highly defined cheekbones and accentuated, rather than hid, the ugly scars that left him with a permanent grin.
His head sat atop a slender neck and broad shoulders which were slightly hunched forward; though not so much as to undermine his hight which left him generally at least a head taller than everyone surrounding him. His clothes were just as outland - ish and eye - catching as his war paint. He wore a heavy purple greatcoat which ended just below the knees and was covered in more pockets than seemed necessary; underneath this he wore a green waistcoat, purple shirt and black tie, all of which seemed to hang a little loosely off his slender, lean frame. Purple pin - stripe trousers hang over endlessly long legs and upon his feet were a pair of smart, dark green shoes. Adorning his hands were purple leather gloves; in his left hand he held a playing card reading 'You're next', while in his right hand he held what appeared to be a small knife but upon closer inspection was revealed to be a vegetable peeler. With every moment that passed he clenched and unclenched his fist around the handle of the weapon; as if in anticipation of something, or someone.
His whole image showed a person who wanted to send a message to the world; who wanted people to take notice. He seemed simultaneously perfectly sane and utterly mad; this stark juxtaposition creating a mystery about him, promising dark answers to anyone bold enough to enquire. His movements were erratic as he paced from side to side, mumbling to himself before suddenly stopping to face the speeding Batmobile, stating to no - one in particular:
'And here... we...go'.