Guess Who's Back? Back Again? (Arrival/Possibly Open RP?)
It's not like he had a calling card.
Well, he did, but it was a little more difficult and time-consuming to try to make a Joker symbol out of something, and then people start debating whether it's a walrus or possibly a gorilla, Bigfoot from the stars, and it gets all messy and so not worth his time. And then what kind of a message would he be sending? He needed straightforward. And, easier, to be honest.
Not that he'd ever chosen to take the easy route out. He just wanted to leave a little time for admiring.
It wasn't even that he'd been quiet. Because he hadn't. Bits and pieces scattered around everywhere, a whole chain of events since the mysterious - well, not so mysterious, considering there had been a smattering of HA's plastered all over the walls once the forensics had shown up - explosion that had miraculously let him loose of his prison. Gotham City was a little repetitive. It was old news, yesterday's concerns. He was all about the future. You know, the what's to come, what people haven't thought of yet. The fun!
New York City was already pretty fucked up. Understatement of the century, considering a huge fucking bomb had gone off in it. Specifically a bomb-person - the man being the bomb, etc., et. al., why hadn't he thought of it and other such things - that had taken out half the city, but. Bomb. Evos and creepy crawlers and panic on the front news. Mayhem. The soul of the city seemed like it was hanging on by the nitty gritty, but, to be honest, he was just curious how far you had to nudge the people over the edge before they finally stopped scrabbling their claws and just took the damn plunge.
He was humming to himself. 'Tiptoe Through the Tulips', if anyone was listening.
"Tiptoe through the garde~en," he mumbled aloud, all jovial and bright and in generally fond spirits as he shook out a length of rope. Which really wasn't going to get the knot out, but he didn't care right now - he was in a good mood. "Tiptoe through the tulips with me~e."
Ten little monkeys jumping on the bed. Ten little homeless men conked on the head.
His signature, his war paint, all slathered across their faces like a masterpiece - particularly hard on the bearded one, he'd had all crackers in there. He wanted the people of New York to know, be aware, if they hadn't gotten the chance to yet. And he was so big on a dramatic entrance. "Knee deep in flowers we'll stray, we'll keep the showers away!" he added brightly, as he sawed through the last of the rope knotted just to his left, as he slid down the fire escape railings with a bit of glee to his hops.
Ten hobos, all strung from one building to the other, across the street, like a chain of paper dolls all across New York City, all wearing a sign with a separate letter of his message to the world.
I'M BACK! :D