A/N: This is one of those spur of the moment kind of fanfics that wouldn't leave my mind. Enjoy.
Dedicated to: Maegen V. and her broken knee. LOVE YOU!!!
***
The view of Arkham Asylum from the outside was terrifying. It made me shiver but I tried to keep my optimism. It's my possible new work place, I can't be frightened by the building!
I showed the security guards my badge of approval as I reached the entrance. Neither returned my smile, just gave me sad, sympathetic looks.
I entered and was almost immediately disappointed. The inside was as bad as the outside!
From what I've been told, there are seven floors plus the basement. The basement is now for solitary confinement and medical supplies, which I find beyond stupid. The first floor is the lobby, supposedly the quietest spot for visitors but even here, you can hear the screaming. The next five floors are for the patients/prisoners. I'm unfamiliar with the labels. And I believe the sixth floor are where the evaluations take place. The top floor are for the doctors, where I'm heading to now.
The one elevator was packed and unable to get my usual run in this morning, I took the stairs. Unfortunately for me, the only way to get to the top from the stairs is go upon flight of stairs, enter the floor from a stairwell, go all the way across the floor--passing several, if not every, cell with a some sort of demented criminal--only to have to enter a different stairwell to repeat the process!
I was on the fifth floor when a figure in a cell caught my attention. I don't know what made me stop until I realized there weren't any screams coming from this area. An occasional moan could be heard but it seemed pretty sedate on this floor compared to the others. But then again, it could have been the occupants lax position on the floor. But who knows? Definitely not me.
I turned to face him fully but it took several moments for his identity to sink in. He was the infamous Joker. Having never felt the horror he smothered over Gotham, I found his presence bearable. Similar to standing next to a stranger at the local bus stop. You're fine just as long as they don't get too close.
I probably wouldn't have been able to recognize the criminal if it weren't for his scars. His depiction was totally altered. Gaudy purple and green suit, replaced by a slightly dingy, white jumpsuit (no shoes in sight). His lightly tinted green hair was washed out. Thin locks of greasy, dirty blond hair rested in even waves on his head, reaching just above shoulder blade level. His face was scrubbed clean of make-up, leaving nothing but a man with scars.
He looks at me with his charcoal black eyes and gives me a smile, the demented kind that makes you cringe.
"Why, uh, hel-lo there." His voice was pitched higher than one of a regular adult male, making him seem insincere. The pronunciation of the words were drawn out and the really random stutter sounded off to my trained ears.
I opened my mouth to reply but was cut off by a voice shouting, "HEY!"
I jumped at the urgency of the voice and turn to see an older man running towards me.
"What are you doing here?" he snaps at me, grabbing my arm. "No unauthorized personal are allowed on this floor!"
"I was on my way to an interview," I stutter out, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Why would he act so hostile towards me?
"And you didn't think to take the elevator?"
"It was packed," I tried to reason. His grip loosened just slightly but it was till rather firm.
The man opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the high voice of the Joker saying, "Well, if it isn't my dear fri-end, Com-mis-sioner Gor-don. Why, uh, the sudden vis-it?" We both look at the Joker, an odd grin on his face, brandishing his immortal smile to its possible peak.
I look at the man known as Commissioner Gordon from the corner of my eye to catch his reaction.
The expression on his face could be described as grim, but there was also an anger, better yet, a hatred towards this man. A hardened glare was set directly on the Joker and the deep frown was the exact polar. His jaw was clenched and it seemed s though he were fighting against the urge to retort.
"Umm…" I say after a moment, breaking the silence. "I'm about to be late for my interview." The Commissioner looks at me and stares for a moment. "Could you let me go?" I further explain, chuckling to loosen the tension.
He looks to his hand which is still gripping my upper arm before muttering, "Oh." He releases me and replies, "Sorry. I'm not comfortable with people around this monster." There was no remorse for using such a word but then again, he was referring to the Joker. Mass murderer, sociopath, Hell bent on the destruction of Gotham.
"It's okay," I reply, trying not to stress the man further.
"I'll escort you," Gordon says, trying to make amends. "So, you don't get into trouble. It's the least I can do." The look on his face suggested he was truly sorry for his actions. And he was right; it was the least he could do.
"Okay," I agree with a small shrug of the shoulder. He begins to lead the way and not more than two cells down does he stop.
"Leaving so soon?" The Joker calls after us. But his voice was no longer light and airy, it was instead a deep, feral growl.
It was then that reality crashed down on me. Where I was, what criminals were around, so many criminals…And then there was him, the Joker. His maniacal laughter rand through the air, echoing off the walls and into the halls of Arkham Asylum.
The laughter was worse than the screams.