Joker/Harley
Characters copyright to their creators and DC Comics.
I do not own these characters, I only own the plot of the story.
Quite bad language, and there are some what might be considered 'disturbing' aspects.
This is my first ever Fan Fiction, R&R please!
Changing Me, Changing You
PART I
Little Eye Problem
The Joker sat strapped in his straight jacket at exactly 7 o'clock, all the shiny buckles pulled tightly across his dirty body in Arkham Asylum. He stared at the blank white wall in front of him, as he had been for the past hour, running a moist tongue across his nude lips. His make-up was confiscated, leaving him feeling like a naked clown. They said it contributed to his psychopathic schizophrenia. How rude of them. They think he's not capable of being a cold blooded murderer without the make up that covers his ruined face.
The Joker fidgeted, trying to loosen the iron grip hug of the straight jacket. The metal chair started jumping, forwards backwards slightly, making no noise on the padded floor, as the Joker started to get mad, his right temple pulsing with pressure. Joker stopped - he could hear the nurse scuttling down the corridor towards his cell. The night check.
Joker smirked to himself. He could hear the fear in her footsteps. He could imagine her, in her white overalls and leather moccasins. She was probably frowning, her eyebrows almost slipping down her nose, her lips taut and pursed, like they're sucking a wasp and her back rigid as she fumbled in her pocket for her swipe card.
Those bastard things. Oh, how he hated the swipe cards of Arkham Asylum. They were so pointless - he couldn't get out of his marshmallow room without one. Maybe that was the point, he thought.
Oh and there's the retina scan that they do after they swipe their silly bits of plastic. He hated them too. There was only three people who had retina scan access: his psychologist, Harleen Quinzel, the guard outside of his little white room and the night nurse.
Beep. "Access granted." The Joker mumbled under his breath.
"Night check." The nurse mumbled, as she picked up the tray she had lain on the floor when fumbling for her swipe card. "And food."
"I don't fucking want it." The Joker spat at her, as he flicked his eyes away from the blank wall and surveyed her with dangerous eyes.
"I'll leave it here for you, if you decide to eat it." The nurse said, as she put her swipe card in her breast pocket.
"Well, I can't eat it strapped in this damn jacket." Joker said, as he tried to inch closer to her, the metal chair dragging slightly across the padded floor. "Why don't you be a doll and untie the clown?"
The nurse ignored him and put the tray back on the floor. She pushed it towards him using her foot.
"That is really unsanitary." The Joker pointed out, as he pushed the tray back away from him with his plain ole tennis pumps. "My shoes, you see, haven't left this fucking clean room." He hated wearing them, he just wanted to shove them up someone's ass.
"Tough luck I'm afraid." The nurse said, mustering up enough courage as she could.
The Joker smacked his wet nude lips together in excitement.
"I do like it when a woman has a bit of fire in her." He said, grinning at her. The Joker was quite the pervert when he wanted to be.
The nurse ignored him, and moved closer, grabbing at his buckles and straps of the straight jacket. She pulled them tighter, just wanting to be sure, not really looking at what she was doing, perspiration beading her forehead. Her deep brown eyes were full of fear and worry, as her slender dark fingers fumbled across the straight jacket.
Little did she know, that The Joker had already dislocated his shoulder and got his arm free, which he suddenly jerked up and closed his hand around her pretty ebony throat.
"Did you really think you'd walk out of here alive, nurse?" The Joker said, grinning from ear to ear, his scars stretching out into an even bigger smile.
The nurse's brown eyes widened in horror, as she tried to claw at the Joker's hand, which was now squeezing tighter.
Asphyxiation was a boring way to kill, and die for that matter, he thought. He doesn't get a big enough thrill from it. It's like a drug addict taking weed after months of taking heroin. The high just isn't high enough.
The Joker dislocated his other shoulder, sliding his arm out. He relocated his shoulders with a quick pop! He clenched his hand into a fist, his knuckles colliding with her pretty defined cheekbone. She cried out, her hands slacking on his.
"Nurse, you need a retina scan to get out of here too, don't you?" He asked her, his voice raspy as she gurgled and gasped. Pathetic, he thought, as he watched the panic in her face.
"Answer me!" The Joker growled into her face, shaking her slightly as he pulled her closer to him. He jerked his head slightly, flipping green greasy hair out of his nude face. She nodded feebly.
Joker wondered where the guard was. He'd probably slipped downstairs, hoping for ten minutes to scoff his face with sticky doughnuts. Oh, nothing will happen, the guard had thought. .
Oh but something is going to happen, the Joker thought gleefully. Never leave a psychotic, bloodthirsty clown alone, not when he's due for a night check with a hot nurse that fucks him off by trying to feed him shit fucking hospital food when he doesn't even want it.
"Open the door." He ordered. "Don't even think of making a run for it sweetie, I will hunt you down like a dog and rip your throat out." The ebony nurse whimpered, and scuttled over to the door on her hands and knees, after the Joker threw her down on the floor in disgust.
He flexed his fingers. Her face was skinnier than he thought, as mild pain flickered through his knuckles. The Joker shrugged it off. He was used to pain, he'd felt worse and the best thing about it was that he liked it.
"Do hurry up dear, I have a date with Gotham City." The Joker mused, as he unbuckled the buckles of the straight jacket with great difficulty. He could feel the annoyance, anger and irritation bubble up inside him. Joker was starting to feel aggravated; he hadn't sliced anyone's mouth open in a while.
He felt deprived of all things he loved, not that he knew what it was like to love. Taking away the ability to kill at will was like taking an ice lolly off a five year old. Cruel and unfair.
The Joker stood up off the chair and flung it into a corner, like it was a cushion. He felt strong and free, a grin spread across his pale face. Now for my make-up, he thought, as he ran a naked hand (they didn't allow him his little purple gloves either, much to the Joker's distaste) over his chin.
He watched impatiently as the nurse repeated the retina scan over and over, unable to keep still from all the pathetic whimpering she was doing. The Joker rolled his eyes and tapped his feet silently against the floor.
"Do you know what happens to a stupid little nurse whore who makes a clown impatient?" The Joker asked, as he walked up behind her. He stroked her neck, making her shiver. His other hand slid across her breasts, making the nurse jump.
"This." The Joker whipped the swipe card from her breast pocket and with such force, shoved it in her mouth and yanked it upwards at the corner, slitting open her left cheek, all the way up to her eye. The nurse didn't have time to scream, as she went crashing down to the floor, the Joker's dead impassive eyes following her.
"Shame." The Joker said, as he pocketed the bloody swipe card and knelt down next to the nurse. "Now, what are we going to do about this little eye problem, huh?"
Her eyes were glassy and staring blankly at the sealed door as the blood poured from her mouth, staining the clean floor and the joker's tennis shoes. He could feel the blood seep across the linen of his shoes, as he tightened his shoelace casually.
The Joker turned her dead face towards him, and without a thought of hesitation, he jammed his thumb and index finger into her eyeball, gauging it out of the socket with a sickening squelch.
"Problem solved." He cackled to himself.
His thoughts flickered to Harleen Quinzel, his pretty blonde psychologist. Dr. Harleen Quinzel. He could still remember the day he first saw her, standing at his door, peering at him with wide blue eyes through the pane of glass. There was something in those eyes that day. Interest. Nobody had ever looked at the Joker with interest before.
He hated these moments of 24 hours. Random times throughout the day, even night, he would spend ages thinking of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, the conversations they had during their sessions, the way her pretty manicured nail would make invisible patterns on her clipboard. The way she'd cock her head to one side and spend a long time just staring at him. Staring at him!
Joker shook his head, frowning. He suddenly crash landed back to the padded room, remembering he was planning his Great Escape. His Great Escape involved the pretty dead eye of Nurse whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was that lay bloody and motionless in his palm.
He stared down at it, before putting the eyeball between his index finger and thumb. Putting the eye in front of the retina scan, which was behind the glass of his door, on the opposite wall outside, he waited for the recognised beep. Amazingly, it was able to pick up the eye from that far away, through a pane of glass. Modern technology, he thought disgustedly.
Everything had to be modern, these days! Not that he was really complaining, he did like to wear the most modern purple suit he could find, he did love the latest guns, even though his greatest weapons were his mind and hands.
He threw the eye down by the one eyed nurse, who's eye socket was dark and empty, like a great chasm of nothing.
"Here, you can have it back." He said, chuckling to himself as he swiped the bloody Arkham Asylum swipe card. Beep beep of recognition and the door slid open smoothly, granting consent of freedom.
He pocketed the swipe card again and slipped out of the door. The Joker breathed in air. For months he had felt suffocated in that tiny clean white room that seemed to just engulf him like a constant blanket of again, nothing!
The Joker scraped his hair out of his face again with the palm of his hand. He walked slowly down the corridor, with the depressing scenery of ageing pale blue tiles of the walls and the blank dirty beige floors.
His dirty old blue shirt clung to him with sweat, his tie a skew. The Joker tugged at it, adjusting it and smoothed out his shirt. Might as well make my amazing exit in style, such as shame I'll kill anyone who witnesses, he thought. He cackled to himself under his breath, his hands now in his pockets.
"Oi! What are you doing out!" Someone behind him shouted. The Joker half turned, already knowing who it was. The guard, probably holding a box of pink icing doughnuts. The Joker had watched him eat them outside his door nearly every day at noon. The fucking guard did it on purpose the bastard, shovelling the sticky carbs in his mouth.
The Joker never liked doughnuts. It was just the fact that it was non hospital food, that he watched the guard. It actually amused him, watching the guards efforts that failed because the Joker never really cared.
Food: Something he'd been pretty much starving himself from. Who wants to eat a pile of microwaved bullshit?
"Well, I was going for a walk." The Joker replied, as he turned around to face the guard. Well well, The Joker thought, as he eyed the guard with sure enough, his box of pink doughnuts.
"Oh no, I don't think so." The guard said as he moved towards the Joker, who was still standing there with his hands in his pockets.
The guard wasn't the brightest of men, the Joker had learned. Most of the staff here at Arkham knew to keep a Taser or two in the pockets of their uniforms, overalls whichever whatever. Even a Taser wouldn't keep the Joker down, so they load their pockets full of tranquillisers, sedatives blah blah blah.
Quite ironic actually; he relished the electric pulse through his body at god knows how many volts, he relished the groggy feeling of waking up from a tranquilliser and the feel of sedatives as they run through his bloodstream.
The Joker watched, amused, as the guard advanced towards him, still trying to stuff his mouth with doughnut, the box tucked safely under his arm.
Who did he think he was? Trying to go after the Joker, the Joker, with only a box of doughnuts as a defence? Well, it's hardly defence if the guard's eating it. Sugar rush, the Joker thought as he noticed the guard had totally forgotten all his real weapons in his pockets and holsters.
"I think so, fatty. Going for a walk isn't a crime." The Joker said, as he continued to stand there.
"When it's you taking a walk, yes it is." The guard said. "I'm calling for backup."
"Calling for backup?" The Joker laughed, his voice going high when he said "backup". He doubled over a for a second, his hands still in his pockets. He straightened up. "You call yourself a guard?"
"Shut up clown!" The guard yelled, putting his box of doughnuts on the floor and searching his holsters for his Taser.
"Don't you people ever learn?" The Joker asked impatiently, jumping up and down frantically, his hands going up in the air wildly in exasperation. "They don't fucking work!"
"I suggest you calm down right now, freak." The guard said, switching to a fighting stance, his Taser held out in front of him, cackling electricity.
The Joker rolled his eyes and removed his hands casually from his pockets.
"I'm not..I'm not a freak." The Joker said quietly, shaking his head.
"You are, freak. Now just shut the fuck up!" The guard shouted, shuffling towards him.
The Joker sighed. He hated having to explain himself to people. Not that they ever really listened. He liked to talk though, he liked to fuck up their minds before he kills them. But tonight, he couldn't be arsed. Joker just wanted to kill the bastard already.
"Normally I'd give some giant mind fuck speech, that gets the victim in such a panic and frenzy that they end up begging for mercy. I do love when a person begs for their life. It's so..so pathetic you know?" The Joker said as he walked towards the horrified and sickened guard (a look that often graced the faces of the Joker's victims, and it was a look the Joker quite revelled in) who was now backing up. "Are you going to beg for your life?"
"I warn you, back off!" The guard shouted, fear taking over him as his legs started to shake.
The Joker just continued to walk towards the guard, who was starting to walk backwards faster. The Joker surveyed him, his head low, his eyes all the way up in his sockets, the vision of the guard the only thing he kept his eyes on.
"Why don't you be a good little boy and come say Hi to the clown?" The Joker said, his mouth pulling up into an evil smile. "He doesn't bite. Most of the time."
The guard let out a whimper as he hit the wall behind him. He gripped the taster tightly in one hand, and with the other started shuffling it across the wall, to the fire drill that was inches away from his now outstretched fingers...
The Joker didn't seem to notice as he continued to stare into the guards fearful eyes. He saw everything – the guard's last thoughts, his terror and his fear, his emotions just swam across those pathetic eyes. The Joker was now so close to him, he could see his own reflection in the emerald eyes that stared up at the Joker.
The guard suddenly pulled down the lever of the fire drill, which rang through his and the Joker's ears, screaming into their eardrums.
"Now why did you have to go and do that for?" The Joker said, as he grabbed the Taser out of the guard's hands (he seemed to have totally forgotten he was holding it, the sad excuse of a guard.)
The guard spat in the Joker's face, as one last effort of repulsion for him. The Joker stood there for a few seconds, the anger rising inside him like a thermometer in the desert at noon.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to spit?"
Then he shoved the Taser in the guards mouth, angled it upwards so it rested on the roof of his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
White hot electricity sizzled up the guards face, through his eyes which exploded in their sockets, over his skull and into his brain, which fried like bacon on a barbecue in the middle of July.
The Joker grinned to himself as he removed the Taser gun and threw it on the floor, next to the crumpled and smoking guard. He wiped the spit of his face with his shirt sleeve.
Joker knelt down and tore off the guard's jacket and put it on. He smoothed it out and grinned;
"Nice."
Sliding his hands back in his pockets, he turned on his heel and walked down the corridor towards the exit.