Jeremiah Arkham lost no sleep the night he signed the transfer documents for one of his most difficult patients. In fact, he laughed at the thought of it- difficult was not the proper word. More like impossible, he'd said to the secretary. If all went well, he knew he could breathe at least one sigh of relief. The asylum was by no means a safe place, but with a certain individual shipped off to another facility that sounded more than welcome to take him in their emails, he thought it would at least drop back down into merely "stressful" instead of "unlivable."
The next morning, the security guards found patient 4479 leaning quietly against the far wall of his cell with his eyes shut. The two looked at one another quizzically.
"Think he's asleep?" asked Rob.
"Does he sleep?" Paul scratched his neck uncertainly.
"Hey!" Rob knocked on the heavy metal door softly. "S'time to go."
No response. They could see his chest rising and falling slowly in the single overhead light.
"Wake up, Clown…"
"Shh," a voice replied. The guards looked at one another again like hens in the dark.
Paul slid open the little window on the cell door a crack. "We don't got all day…"
Patient 4479 slowly held up one hand and kept it there for a few seconds before sighing contentedly.
"Y'know," he began. "I'm gonna miss the guy on the other side of this wall. If only everybody in the whole world would cry that much- all day, all night… but nice and quiet. Not much else would ever need to be said."
"Whatever," said Rob. "Get over here."
"Keep your panties on…" 4479 complied with them patiently- an act that made Paul tighten the cuffs and Rob keep one hand on his gun for most of the trip down the hall. They shook hands as the armored bus pulled away with Arkham's nastiest piece of work and a few delirious small fry in celebration.
The morning air was cold and damp. Patient 4479 took the time before their long journey to draw on the window of the bus before taking in the last thoughts of his home. He could see the tallest buildings of Gotham beyond the wall, sprawling towards the sky like skeletal fingers in the fog.
This change would not last forever, he said to himself. So he leaned back into the corner with one shoulder against the window, slightly smudging the right eye of his doodled smiley face and the other against the seat.
"Alright," said one of three guards at the front of the bus. "Everybody settle in- Mount Massive, here we come."
4479 tilted his head back a bit in thought. Mount Massive was such a dirty name for any place- they might as well have called it "Compensation Hill" or something. He listened passively to the guards muttering together as the bus pulled out of the parking lot and began to wonder what sorts of new friends would be there waiting. He'd heard about their successes, understanding of the human psyche and other claims coated in melted chocolate and nice-smelling wads of hair. He wanted to keep his mind open to all of these things and even more. As the bus bumped along the entrance ramp to the main highway, he felt a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. If Arkham was easy, then this… this Mount Massive Asylum with their promises and revolutionary methods…well, it just had one fatal flaw, didn't it? What an arrogant thing to say, he thought, that they could provide "opportunity" for anyone. What arrogance to welcome him with open arms and eager, near desperate-sounding emails. 4479 made himself extra comfy- this was going to be more than easy, it was going to be fun. So. Much. Fun.
He could see the number tag on his jumpsuit reflecting in the window and fought back a laugh with a well-placed throat-clearing. Of all the things which he was not yet certain, one stood out as an undeniably fact:
The Joker was back in business.
Author's Note: I fixed a few minor grammatical errors here and there. Hope it reads a little smoother now.
As a side note, my interpretations of the Joker may reflect both the recent films and the Animated Series.