Authors Note: I was rewatching The Dark Knight and it inspired this little drabble.

Mad. They called him mad.

As well as a host of other words that meant the same thing. Psychotic, delusional, deranged. And just to mix things up occasionally they called him a criminal, a monster and a clown. He didn't mind that last one so much. After all, what was wrong with having a few laughs while he did his work? It was just a shame that so few seemed to get the joke.

They were the delusional ones, not him. They lived in a world so grey and solid, so dull and lifeless. They hadn't seen the real world, the one underneath, the one that longed to take those pointless boring lives of those and turn them upside down. When he was a child he'd looked through the veil to see the real world and those who inhabited it. At first he'd seem only horror and terror but it didn't take him long to see the beauty there. The beauty in the dream of a world where people just did as they pleased and didn't bother with their pathetic "laws" and "morals".

They were such hypocrites too. So what if he'd killed? They'd killed too and for far more impure reasons than a love of Chaos. They'd killed for money, for country and for their race. They'd killed for the sake of their precious laws. It was only the Bat who refused to kill but one day he would have to. And, of course, they killed for their gods.

He killed for his gods too. The only difference was, his gods were real. He had seen them, heard them all his life and he relished doing their bidding. In the name of the Blood God he shot and stabbed. In the name of the Plaguefather he poisoned. In the name of the Lord of Change he planned and manipulated. And in the name of the Prince of Pleasure he inflicted pain.

He had known his true purpose for a long time now but it taken too many years of mediocrity before he embraced it. He was making up for lost time, now that he was sure of the truth.

He was an Agent of Chaos.