Anathema

Prologue

I started a joke, which started the whole world crying

But I didn't see that the joke was on me

-Bee Gees, I started a joke

The third floor of Arkham Asylum would look innocuous to an outsider, were any ever allowed inside. It was large and sprawling with winding halls leading off into separate holding areas. The sections looked exactly the same despite the fact that they served very different purposes. The walls of the narrowed corridors were damp, illuminated by dull white fluorescent lights glaring down. Silent, at first sight but nobody, except a few orderlies and some nurses seemed to know about the blood-curdling screams that were suffocated by soundproof cells.

Tonight was certainly one of those bad nights.

"This is Patrick Roberts from third floor—" the night shift guard, Patrick, was a tall blond man probably in his 20's. He was new to the psychiatric ward, not being familiar with the weird things going around. He'd been working as a museum night guard before he ended up at Arkham. Not everybody was brave enough to take a job at the asylum but rumors didn't matter to Patrick. So what if the legends said that the madhouse drove even the sane into complete nutjobs? still the payment was good. Five years working here and he'd never have to work ever again. But as it was his six months in Arkham, he slowly started to realize it was challenging to adapt to crazies' outbursts, especially the one that belonged to a certain room at the end of the second corridor.

"Patient #27299 is having a violent fit in her cell." he said, staring into a small screen with an expression that was a mix of disgust and fear. "She's doing harm to herself."

There should have been a dark whisper in the wind howling outside. Or maybe a deep chill in the bone. Something. A tightness in the air perhaps, that caused patient #27299 to choose this night to have another mental break down. To wreak havoc inside her cell and to cause a stressful night— not that the news about the transportation of a psychosis criminal from Blackgate to Arkham, hadn't made everybody uncomfortable enough.

Her room was one of the average ones. A padded cell, almost completely bare, with only a toilet behind a security camera and no big Plexiglass window. The walls behind her steel cot were stained with brown color, probably clotted blood if not something worse but no one cared enough to clean it up, anyway.

"Itch…itch…itch…itchingitichingitching… itch" Her soft whispers slowly turned into long chilling screams. "I have an itch inside my scars!" She scratched the deep scars, neatly marked in four parallel lines on her cheekbones and dug her nails in her skin and they started to bleed as if they were still fresh.

Blood, somewhat, excited her. When asked why? It's my favorite color, she'd reply. She loved how it stained on her white hands and how warm it was, proving that she was still alive.

Alive.

"Nurse Lawrance will be there to upper Thorazine's dosage," The voice behind the line said. "We're having a guest down here."

"W-what?" Patrick stuttered, looking warily at the screen as the inmate laughed hysterically at her bloody hands.

"A certifiable psycho who's got bad tastes in jokes." He struggled to cloak the anger in his tone.

A pang of horror seized Patrick's heart; he gulped and stammered unintelligible sounds before he spoke. "You can't possibly be talking about the Joker?"

The Joker was the hot topic -after the Batman- in the whole asylum for the last few months when he was first caught by the police and sent to Blackgate. If Patrick was to be honest with himself, he couldn't say after all the things that happened to Gotham- months ago- even hearing the terrorist's name, didn't unnerve him.

"Yeah, I'm talking about that fucker."

Suddenly the air became so brittle, it could snap any second. Patrick felt a chill creeping down his spine. It was just getting better and better with each passing second. He looked at the woman's image in the cell, sitting with crossed legs in the middle of the room and laughing her head off.

"I-I didn't know it was tonight! Didn't they have to wait for his trials, at least?"

"Nah, he's a fucking nutcase, they were looking for all excuses to send him away. It was unbearable for them to keep him at Blackgate." The voice paused for a second, letting the words sink in before saying. "You might wanna shut the others in your floor down before he arrives," He said bitterly, holding a hand over the speaker and talking to someone which was inaudible to Patrick. "We're not gonna give the bastard ideas on his first night here." He continued harshly." He's dangerous. "

Patrick had to stop for a minute and wipe the unwanted sweats off his forehead. "At least send some men up here, Dan." He sighed.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?!" Dan snapped. "That son of a bitch's like a ticking bomb; you never know when he goes off. Now go do your job and come down immediately, we may need more help."

Patrick couldn't help grimacing at his voice. "Well I don't exactly feel comfortable going in her cell, alone?"

"He's just a woman for Christ sake!" Dan scolded loudly." How hard is it gonna be for a guy with your size?"

Patrick looked back into the screen. His eyes narrowed slightly. Dan was right; having one trouble was enough for tonight and who could be a bigger trouble than the Joker himself.

"Fine!" He finally said," Where is this nurse Lawrance—?"

"I'm here Patrick," His gaze met with a pair of serious green eyes. The woman, nurse Lawrance, was middle-aged and had her brown hair pulled back and tied into a bun. She seemed to be an experienced nurse, wasn't very tall but had a strong well-toned body and a confident look on her stern face, one that Patrick very obviously lacked at the moment. She raised her hand, emphasizing on a needle she was holding and gestured to the blond man." Let's go put an end to her misery now." She said and started walking toward the corridor.

With a quick 'okay' Patrick hang up the phone and followed her steps. As they got closer to the cell the sound of commotion and hysterical laughs subsided little by little, until they finally reached the door. The sudden silence spreading over the second corridor, caused Patrick relief. Maybe she got tired after all. He stood in front of the keypad, sharing a look with Nurse Lawrance, he said. "She stopped." His tone more questioningly than stating what seemed too obvious.

Nurse Lawrance nodded her head carefully and positioned herself right in front of the door. "Don't let your guard down, Patrick." She warned. "I know this little rabbit. She likes to play games." She whispered but didn't let her eyes slip away the metal door as Patrick keyed in the code.

A small click and the lock opened. Patrick stood in front of Nurse Lawrance, his cold fingertips running along the hand cuffs he put in his belt, he let out a deep breath before finally stepping in.

Hopefully she had fallen sleep, only hopefully for Patrick.

The wind howled between the branches of dead old trees around the outside area of Arkham's building. The building looked more like an old mansion. It was located outside the city, close to the Narrows and much far away from decent neighborhoods. The grounds surrounding the asylum resembled a small jungle. The yard was surrounded by a rusty, six-foot barbwire fence giving it a prison-like view. Several no-trespassing signs were hung along the fence and on the front and back gates of the building. The brown grass was thick and tall so that anyone could easily hide in it without ever being noticed. The out of date surveillance equipment was also evidence of a long history of budgetary restraints as far as the asylum was concerned.

Tonight though the staff's concern was even doubled. The thought of taking in the most dangerous man in Gotham City, surely made Arkham even unsafer than usual.

Daniel Garcia though didn't seem to be scared or concerned at all. He was furious. Despite all the dry laughs, he couldn't calm the anger boiling deep inside his system. The waiting for the Joker was excruciatingly long. He wasn't afraid of him like everybody else, he despised him and the thought of having him in a cell and the chance for beating him up to death was the only thing that helped me calm down.

Not tonight. Definitely not tonight.

He and five other orderlies, all muscular and intimidating, were standing outside, waiting for the black van with GCPD sign on each sides to pass through the gate. The car took a turn around the stony fountain in the center and finally stopped at the stairs.

They'd finally arrived.

Dan's fingers tightened around the electric shock stick. Maybe he got to land a hit or two tonight, just giving a taste his own medicine to that clown.

Two guards got off and they hurriedly went to the back, opening the door for the prisoner. Dan's heart started pounding louder against his chest, his brow creased into a deep frown and his muscles tensed up all at once but he held the anger back. He had to wait for the right opportunity. He watched as the guards finally pulled the prisoner out.

The tall man in orange jumpsuit with untended greasy brown, yellow, greenish hair that was hanging limply about his scarred face, walked out. Even without the clown makeup he still had a wild look, still intimidating to get close to. His head was down, as heavily armored men, took him by arms and practically shoved him to the stairs.

"We take him from here." Dan said coldly, gesturing at the others.

That was when he finally looked up. His eyes, two eternal holes even blacker than the darkness itself, locked with Dan's and they shone with a predatory, animalistic gleam.

How Dan wanted to tear up him right now.

Patience, though. Patience.

The moment Patrick stepped inside the cell, nurse Lawrance knew something was off.

Patrick's loud screams echoed in the room, as he swirled around and tried to detach the much smaller woman on his back. He was careless, not paying any attention to her, crouching near the door so as the door opened she lung at him and jumped on his back.

With him screaming, the patient started to scream dramatically, as if she mocked the man's cries by mimicking him as she held onto his head, digging her fingernails into the area near his eye sockets, trying to gouge his eyeballs. He pushed his back against the walls, struggling to pry open her fingers and break free from her unnaturally strong grip but it seemed as if she was glued to him with each an every hit to the walls, she only laughed louder.

Howling in excruciating pain, Patrick finally fell on his knees and grabbed the patient's wrists, then with all the strength he had, he twisted them, causing her to cry in pain for once then he pulled her over his head and hurled her down.

"Arghh… you crazy bitch!" He screamed.

Nurse Lawrance finally entered the cell. She stood over Patrick's head. "Hold her down!" She ordered.

Patrick used his chance to put all his weight on her small body. Her limbs flailed wide as she convulsed, struggling to breath. Nurse Lawrance knelt next to her and without further preparation stuck the needle in her arm and pulled the syringe-plunger down slowly.

Her eyelids were getting heavy and it was hard to move her limbs. She blinked and blinked, fighting to retain consciousness. They wanted to hurt her and they did but at least being awake, pain was only physical and she could tolerate physical but in sleep, it brought back nightmares, it shattered her mind into little fragments, she couldn't tell it they were real or only delusions. Dying had always been a better option throughout these years, but they wouldn't let her and she just didn't want to. If only she hadn't promised him— If only she hadn't promise to wait for him to come back...

She was numb all over, unaware of the tears that were now falling. She missed him. She told herself everyday. She missed him so much and she was oh so-sorry for all the things that she'd done to him. She hurt him and now it was her turn, it was all a fair game. But wasn't it enough, already? She needed something to calm her, but not the syringe and not the pills. They'd just turn her brain into a marshmallow. She wanted something... soothing.

Unknowingly then, she started to hum a tune. A beautiful lullaby lifted from somewhere in her subconsciousness. The one he used to lull for their baby as he gently caressed her belly. The one that would send her flying back to their good ol' days. The one that made her forget about her stuck-up mommy and heroin addicted daddy. It only brought back his face, so serene, so calm, so beautiful... his face.

Her gentle humming filled the room, floating out as it slowly turned into a song.

"I fell out of bed,

hurting my head from things that I'd said

Till I finally died, which started the whole world living,

Hmm if I'd only seen

That the joke was on me"

The six orderlies that had surrounded the criminal clown- hand cuffed and ankles chained together- walked through the corridor with stern faces, slightly frowned. Cold serious expression probably thinking about the many different ways they could torture the man in their grasp -they hoped- not even caring about the humming sound, not paying the slightest attention to the song that was beautifully being sung by a fragile voice.

The voice that only he recognized.