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xt1meI had been watching old eps of Batman the Animated Series when I came across the Creeper. This and an old comic based on BtAS was the only place I could really remember this guy from so I wrote this. Also because I couldn't find any fic of him. Knowing ever your worst effort will be better then the rest because there is no rest is very freeing. I have since read a bunch of his comics & I still think he's an interesting character. But he's died and then came back and then was re-booted & has since disappeared. I have no idea where he is in the current continuity other then the fact that his alter ego, Jack Ryder, makes an appearance inn the Arkham games.
Jack Ryder was a television reporter, and he liked to think he was a good one. Considering his gross earnings he didn’t think he was too far off in his opinion. If you asked anyone else most would probably agree. His journalistic integrity (which most critics would consider an oxymoron) was intact. He always reported the facts as he knew them, tried to present both sides of an argument where possible and never made up facts just for a story. If some people considered him arrogant, that was expected when you got good enough, and if he was somewhat of a workaholic, well, that’s what you need to be to get anywhere in this day and age. (I'm not sure how accurate an interpretation of the character this is but the dude regularly decides to go crazy so unreliable narrator here.)
Currently Jack was experiencing a typical day at the office.
“Where are those insert shots for the McManus case”
“On your desk”
“There not here!”
“Does anyone know when Wallis is back?”
“Someone get me a copy of the last Arkham prison break!”
“The fax is broken again.”
“Where the heck is all the coffee!!!”
(I'd like to point out here that I have, obviously, never worked for a new station.)
Okay. Everything but the last shout was a typical day at the office. The fact that somehow they had managed to run out of coffee changed the usual organised chaos into Armageddon. The day wouldn’t have even been that bad (although some would disagree with that) but it turned out that one of the camera men had sold some exclusive footage for some quick cash on the side and got caught. He was fired, but not before taking his most recent shots with him, which left everyone rushing to complete projects that were supposed to be already done. (One guy messing up can really rain everyone's day.)
The end of the day left Jack with a horrible headache, convinced he was suffering from caffeine withdrawals and too tired to even curse at his misfortune. (I don't drink coffee but I do get dehydration & tension headaches sometimes. It's probably similar)
One of his co-workers mentioned in passing as they were leaving, “I’m going to need a break before I go insane.”
“Good idea” Jack replied.
The other smirked, “What, the break or the going insane?”
Jack just waved goodbye but he was thinking ‘both.’
The Creeper was a lunatic. Crazy, cracked up, not all there and just generally insane. This was not something that bothered him; in fact he just thought it was great fun (although the people he met tended not to think that way). The fact that workaholic, mostly boring and definitely sane Jack Ryder was the Creeper would be shocking if anyone knew. But it was true. After taking a dunk in a vat of chemicals, and another, and another (the Joker can be a pretty thorough guy) he had ended up with a body chemistry as messed up as his mind. Medical patches given to him by Batman turned him back to normal but when it came off the Creeper came back. Jack had been expected to keep as normal as possible but there was something extremely tempting about running around the place in a nigh-indestructible body (even if it was yellow) without a care in the world, even if that meant being insane. (I like reading/watch crazy characters, steaming from my favourite character from the A-Team being Murdock & going from there. I'm just not very good at writing them.)
It was a typical night in a typical dive on the mean streets of Gotham. The bartender served beer to anyone who could pay, the regulars drank mostly in silence and any moment now there would probably be a fight about who could pick the next song from the jukebox. Suddenly there was a crash as something was thrown though the door. It was a man. There was loud laughter from outside. The battered person groaned and fell unconscious. There was a blur of yellow, red and green as a person literally bounded in, laughing all the while. He landed next to his victim “Awhhh. Tired already? It’s okay,” the man clad mostly in a red boa said as he patted the man’s head “ you just sleep here.” With that he burst out laughing again.
“Is that the Joker?” whispered one of the men by the jukebox. He obviously wasn’t quiet enough as the laughter abruptly stopped and the madman span around to face him. Everyone was silent as he stared at the unlucky commenter. He then turned to one of the men closest to him gesturing back with his thumb. “He’s new in town isn’t he.” He turned back smiling again. “Nope, not the joker. Anyone else want to try?”
A voice from the back risked speaking up. “You’re the, what-a-ma-call-it, the freaker.” (The Creeper is such a visual character, it's hard to write him. Not helped by the fact I never feel like I write action right.)
He leapt over in one bound, “Oh so close. It’s the Creeper. Say it with me now. The Creeper.” When no one said anything his near constant smile vanished and he picked up the man who had spoken “I said,” he brought the man to his face, “Say it!”
“C-c-creeper” the man stuttered out. The Creeper dropped the man smiling again. “There, that wasn’t so hard.” Laughing he jumped backwards into a summersault and landed perched on a barstool. Turning to sit properly and face the barman he asked, “What’s there to drink around here?”
“What do you want?”
“Do you have anything,” he paused looking thoughtful, “pink.”
This was not a place that served fancy cocktails. This was a place that people came to get drunk as fast as humanly possible. This was not a place to ask for something ‘pink’. But if there was one thing that people in Gotham learned quickly it was that it was better to humour the crazies. The bartender ducked behind the bar and got some vodka and a shot glass. Thinking for a moment he changed the shot glass for a pint glass, with any luck the guy would be a lightweight, pass out and leave them in peace. He pored in the vodka and added some red wine he had stashed away to make the concoction pinkish. Then, because a bartender should know his customers, he added an umbrella. He passed it to the Creeper who took it in one hand with his pinkie raised and took a refined sip. (I don't drink so I know nothing about alcohol but I'm pretty sure this would be terrible.) A pause, the entire bar was silent as they waited for his reaction. “I like it!” he grabbed the pint in both hands and chugged it down leaning back. He kept leaning back until the drink was finished and his head was almost touching the floor. Abruptly he sprang upright (Boing!) causing the bartender to jump back in surprise. “Can I’ve another?” not waiting for an answer he spun around to face the rest of the bar. “So,” he said trying and failing to sound innocent, “What do you do for fun around here?” The wide grin he gave them was the complete opposite of reassuring.
The collective thought of the bar was ‘Get rid of him quick, before he decides to make his own fun. Or worse, the Batman shows up’ “I heard that Barkley’s gang are knocking over a jewellery store on 5th street.” Was volunteered from the crowd. “Reeeaaally” the Creeper drawled. Laughing he jumped off the stool. “Okay then.” He said brightly. He made to leave but stopped as he seamed to think of something. He went over and picked up the man he had tossed in earlier. Lifting him up by the ankles he shook him. Out of various pockets a number of wallets, watches and jewellery fell out. It seemed that the mugger had been having a good day until he tried his luck on a lunatic in a green and black striped Speedo. “For the drink,” the Creeper informed the barman, “Keep the change.” Laughing crazily he bounded out into the night. (The guy is a hero after all)
Almost as one the bar let out a sigh of relief. “Only in Gotham.” One of the people near the bar muttered. “Well,” the barman said as he picked up the wallets, “At least he paid.”
Later that night, patch on, and in his apartment Jack Ryder got ready for bed. Bouncing around Gothem and beating up bad guys was probably making more work for himself ‘but,’ he thought, ‘you know what they say; a change is as good a vacation.’ (This is such an American saying. I am not American. the only way I can get away with using this is that the characters are. And then I go and use it for the title.)
Jack Ryder was a television reporter, and he liked to think he was a good one. Considering his gross earnings he didn’t think he was too far off in his opinion. If you asked anyone else most would probably agree. His journalistic integrity (which most critics would consider an oxymoron) was intact. He always reported the facts as he knew them, tried to present both sides of an argument where possible and never made up facts just for a story. If some people considered him arrogant, that was expected when you got good enough, and if he was somewhat of a workaholic, well, that’s what you need to be to get anywhere in this day and age. (I'm not sure how accurate an interpretation of the character this is but the dude regularly decides to go crazy so unreliable narrator here.)
Currently Jack was experiencing a typical day at the office.
“Where are those insert shots for the McManus case”
“On your desk”
“There not here!”
“Does anyone know when Wallis is back?”
“Someone get me a copy of the last Arkham prison break!”
“The fax is broken again.”
“Where the heck is all the coffee!!!”
(I'd like to point out here that I have, obviously, never worked for a new station.)
Okay. Everything but the last shout was a typical day at the office. The fact that somehow they had managed to run out of coffee changed the usual organised chaos into Armageddon. The day wouldn’t have even been that bad (although some would disagree with that) but it turned out that one of the camera men had sold some exclusive footage for some quick cash on the side and got caught. He was fired, but not before taking his most recent shots with him, which left everyone rushing to complete projects that were supposed to be already done. (One guy messing up can really rain everyone's day.)
The end of the day left Jack with a horrible headache, convinced he was suffering from caffeine withdrawals and too tired to even curse at his misfortune. (I don't drink coffee but I do get dehydration & tension headaches sometimes. It's probably similar)
One of his co-workers mentioned in passing as they were leaving, “I’m going to need a break before I go insane.”
“Good idea” Jack replied.
The other smirked, “What, the break or the going insane?”
Jack just waved goodbye but he was thinking ‘both.’
The Creeper was a lunatic. Crazy, cracked up, not all there and just generally insane. This was not something that bothered him; in fact he just thought it was great fun (although the people he met tended not to think that way). The fact that workaholic, mostly boring and definitely sane Jack Ryder was the Creeper would be shocking if anyone knew. But it was true. After taking a dunk in a vat of chemicals, and another, and another (the Joker can be a pretty thorough guy) he had ended up with a body chemistry as messed up as his mind. Medical patches given to him by Batman turned him back to normal but when it came off the Creeper came back. Jack had been expected to keep as normal as possible but there was something extremely tempting about running around the place in a nigh-indestructible body (even if it was yellow) without a care in the world, even if that meant being insane. (I like reading/watch crazy characters, steaming from my favourite character from the A-Team being Murdock & going from there. I'm just not very good at writing them.)
It was a typical night in a typical dive on the mean streets of Gotham. The bartender served beer to anyone who could pay, the regulars drank mostly in silence and any moment now there would probably be a fight about who could pick the next song from the jukebox. Suddenly there was a crash as something was thrown though the door. It was a man. There was loud laughter from outside. The battered person groaned and fell unconscious. There was a blur of yellow, red and green as a person literally bounded in, laughing all the while. He landed next to his victim “Awhhh. Tired already? It’s okay,” the man clad mostly in a red boa said as he patted the man’s head “ you just sleep here.” With that he burst out laughing again.
“Is that the Joker?” whispered one of the men by the jukebox. He obviously wasn’t quiet enough as the laughter abruptly stopped and the madman span around to face him. Everyone was silent as he stared at the unlucky commenter. He then turned to one of the men closest to him gesturing back with his thumb. “He’s new in town isn’t he.” He turned back smiling again. “Nope, not the joker. Anyone else want to try?”
A voice from the back risked speaking up. “You’re the, what-a-ma-call-it, the freaker.” (The Creeper is such a visual character, it's hard to write him. Not helped by the fact I never feel like I write action right.)
He leapt over in one bound, “Oh so close. It’s the Creeper. Say it with me now. The Creeper.” When no one said anything his near constant smile vanished and he picked up the man who had spoken “I said,” he brought the man to his face, “Say it!”
“C-c-creeper” the man stuttered out. The Creeper dropped the man smiling again. “There, that wasn’t so hard.” Laughing he jumped backwards into a summersault and landed perched on a barstool. Turning to sit properly and face the barman he asked, “What’s there to drink around here?”
“What do you want?”
“Do you have anything,” he paused looking thoughtful, “pink.”
This was not a place that served fancy cocktails. This was a place that people came to get drunk as fast as humanly possible. This was not a place to ask for something ‘pink’. But if there was one thing that people in Gotham learned quickly it was that it was better to humour the crazies. The bartender ducked behind the bar and got some vodka and a shot glass. Thinking for a moment he changed the shot glass for a pint glass, with any luck the guy would be a lightweight, pass out and leave them in peace. He pored in the vodka and added some red wine he had stashed away to make the concoction pinkish. Then, because a bartender should know his customers, he added an umbrella. He passed it to the Creeper who took it in one hand with his pinkie raised and took a refined sip. (I don't drink so I know nothing about alcohol but I'm pretty sure this would be terrible.) A pause, the entire bar was silent as they waited for his reaction. “I like it!” he grabbed the pint in both hands and chugged it down leaning back. He kept leaning back until the drink was finished and his head was almost touching the floor. Abruptly he sprang upright (Boing!) causing the bartender to jump back in surprise. “Can I’ve another?” not waiting for an answer he spun around to face the rest of the bar. “So,” he said trying and failing to sound innocent, “What do you do for fun around here?” The wide grin he gave them was the complete opposite of reassuring.
The collective thought of the bar was ‘Get rid of him quick, before he decides to make his own fun. Or worse, the Batman shows up’ “I heard that Barkley’s gang are knocking over a jewellery store on 5th street.” Was volunteered from the crowd. “Reeeaaally” the Creeper drawled. Laughing he jumped off the stool. “Okay then.” He said brightly. He made to leave but stopped as he seamed to think of something. He went over and picked up the man he had tossed in earlier. Lifting him up by the ankles he shook him. Out of various pockets a number of wallets, watches and jewellery fell out. It seemed that the mugger had been having a good day until he tried his luck on a lunatic in a green and black striped Speedo. “For the drink,” the Creeper informed the barman, “Keep the change.” Laughing crazily he bounded out into the night. (The guy is a hero after all)
Almost as one the bar let out a sigh of relief. “Only in Gotham.” One of the people near the bar muttered. “Well,” the barman said as he picked up the wallets, “At least he paid.”
Later that night, patch on, and in his apartment Jack Ryder got ready for bed. Bouncing around Gothem and beating up bad guys was probably making more work for himself ‘but,’ he thought, ‘you know what they say; a change is as good a vacation.’ (This is such an American saying. I am not American. the only way I can get away with using this is that the characters are. And then I go and use it for the title.)
