Yes, yet another one of my foolish Joker-centric one-shot imaginings. Cute, fluffy and almost incoherent at time, I love it to bits XD
Summary: They say help comes from the most unexpected sources. Of course, Gotham would have appreciated it if this hadn't held true for the Joker as well. But then, no one could have predicted a second clown… Except for her brother of course.
The Second Clown
When mom and dad don't understand, a sister always will. ~Author Unknown
Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet. ~Vietnamese Proverb
*****
Visiting hours at Arkham are from nine to five and even then, subject to prisoner, wait, no, excuse me for my, uh, political incorrectness, patient behaviour. It's five to nine now, according to the wristwatch I stole the other day.
See, that's why I was so, uh, mean over the last three days, because everything had been delayed for that exact length of time. All because one itty bitty nurse got slightly damaged after being pushed down three flights of stairs. They all pointed the finger at little ole me of course. I didn't do it though. The honour for that particular bit of malicious misbehaviour belongs with my overeager punkin Harley Quinn.
She's lucky I didn't push her out another window for almost screwing my plans up. What I would have given to grab a hold of her slender little neck and…
It doesn't matter now. The past is the past and, uh, and the cow jumped over the moon. See? All those anger management sessions that stupid doctor assigned work… Don't understand why everyone says I'm such a bad guy. Call me crazy.
I. AM. NOT. CRAZY.
Oooh, Nine O'Clock now! Everything echoes in a big ole concrete building like Arkham, so I think that was the, uh, electronic double door separating all of us happy patients from the visiting room op-uh-ning that I just heard.
Yep. I can, uh, I can see the orderly coming if I stand up against the plexiglass front wall. Heehee, he looks like such a serious man, almost like my beloved Batsy. I wonder if it's him, trying to spy on me undercover?
Note for Batman: Relax a little. I mean, stress takes years off of you, wouldn't want that. Not when I have so much planned for the two of us. Just some friendly advice. Trust the clown, he knows what he's talking about. Me, I never stress. Always smiling. Always.
Here to collect me. Doesn't knock or anything of course. Nope, just buzzes himself into the only private place I have (and I use the term 'private' verrry loosely… I'm sure Batsy or Gordon has this place bugged somehow) and motions for me to hold my hands out in front of me.
I'm such a good boy; I do exactly as the serious man asks. I have a question for him though as he does the handcuffs up. Just a small thing, just a little query…
"Are you Batsy?" I use my polite voice and try very hard not to laugh at the surprised, slightly confused look on the man's face. For some reason, everyone cringes when I laugh. Which only makes me laugh more. What's life if you can't laugh once in awhile?
"No." He replies. Not nearly as polite as I was, but oh well, that's Arkham staff for ya. They all seem to treat me like a freak. Fair enough I guess.
A freak mind you. NOT CRAZY.
"Pity." I smile at him and this time, I let him be scared. I'm sick of Arkham now, I'm sick to death of being poked and prodded and pointed at! "Coz if you were, you and me, we could, uh, we could have some, hmm, fun. Deep and meaningful conversations and things like that."
The orderly is nearly peeing his neat little white scrubs now as he leads me towards the visiting room. All the other patients, all my, uh, charming little friends, watch me with what looks like mixed amusement and jealousy. Not many of us get visitors.
It's interesting looking at everyone as we walk down the corridor. Some of them I smile at because I'm nice like that. Sometimes.
Crane waves back and then returns to looking bored. Poor guy, needs a book to read or something. Feel bad for him, him and me have verrry interesting talks. He doesn't use the word crazy which I have to say, is quite a refreshing change from most of the self-pleased, useless shrinks 'round this place. Hehe, shrink rhymes with stink.
P-uh-retty Poison Ivy next. Petting her stupid little pot plant as per usual. She looks up and scowls as she sees me. Gives me the finger. Nasty bitch. Only jealous anyway because she doesn't have Harley all to herself.
Speaking of my little harlequin doll…
My fingers itch to close around her throat when I see her pressed up against the glass, looking at me with those pathetic eyes. She delayed everything by three whole days! Three! I could still strangle her for it! I can't help but stop and take an angry step towards her cell. She beams at first but that doesn't last long when she sees how pissed off I am.
But the orderly doesn't like this. Oh no, no, no… Has his gun pointed at me. How rude.
"Where do you think you're going?" He speaks very bravely for a man who was nearly soiling himself a moment ago.
"The visiting room?" I ask innocently, trying not to let my temper show. I could feel my darling Harley's anxious eyes on my back and I had to resist the urge to look back over my shoulder at her. Maybe blow her a kiss, just to let her know I loved her anyway. With any luck, I'd be visiting my little harlequin soon anyway.
The orderly put his gun away and shoved me forward, muttering under his breath. I caught part of it.
"…Should've finished high school…Working in a loony bin…Bunch of crazies…."
"Not… Crazy." I couldn't stop the words from escaping, even when I clenched my teeth shut. I was sick of Arkham and repeating myself.
'Shut up!' That was that annoying little voice in my head. 'No no no no! The plan, the plan!'
"I'm no, uh, no idiot," I replied, "I know what I'm doing!"
Mister Orderly didn't like me having my private little conversation. He hurried me the last few steps to the visiting room before shoving me over the threshold and slamming the door behind me.
I just giggled and stretched my shoulders in my spiffy Arkham provided jumpsuit. Idiot should never have shoved me. See, when you're incarcerated in a place like this for a long time, you tended to start holding grudges.
Then, once my little fit of giggles was over, I looked over to the table. A woman sat there. Pretty in a plain-ish sorta way I guess. Fair hair, sorta like the colour mine was at the moment. Apparrrently I wasn't allowed green hair or a painted face in here. Part of the punishment I guess. Either that or these people weren't into the whole 'freedom of expression' thing.
Her big ole brown puppy eyes were all nervous and on edge as I ambled over. The orderly hadn't been nice enough to take the handcuffs off, but that was okay, I knew a lot of magic tricks and even better, I had an audience this time!
I took a seat opposite the woman and said nothing. She didn't like the way I smiled at her obviously, but that wasn't my fault. Actually, it was hers, but the scars had made life a lot more interesting for me, so all was forgiven.
"Are you going to say anything?" She demanded, nerves and unease making her hostile.
I let a long moment of silence hang, watched her squirm like a work on a hook. Then, I did say something.
"Wanna see a magic trick?"
She just stared at me, struck silent by confusion and curiosity.
"See these handcuffs?" I held my arms up and shook the cuffs making them jangle. "Okay, watch this…"
It's reaaallllly easy to get outta handcuffs like these. Just need a bobby pin, the kind anyone wears. I hid mine in the rolled up cuff of my other sleeve. I have quick hands, I was able to grab the bobby pin, use it and free my hands all in two or three seconds.
Needless to say, this was quite a shock for the woman. She gave a quick, frightened squeal before clapping her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound. Her exaggerated emotions made me howl with laughter, something she did not appreciate.
"Still a jerk I see." She snapped, taking her hands away from her mouth and glowering at me indignantly, "God I hate you. You never change."
"If ya really hated me, you wouldn't have come to see me." I pointed out, leaning back in my seat.
"I do hate you." She protested, "I came to see you because my counsellor seems to think that having a 'rational conversation' with you will provide me closure or something."
"Rational?!" I really couldn't help but laugh now. Not just laugh though, laugh. Ya know, eyes streaming, belly aching, hernia inducing… The whole works and jerks. "Rational?! Has your counsellor even heard of me? I don't do rational."
She pouted and I was reminded of all the tantrums she used to throw where she'd whine and stomp her feet and yell and pout just like this. All the years had not made her any more of an adult.
"You say I never, uh, change…" I gave her a narrow eyed look, "But I have. Don't seem to remember running around a scarred freak prior to oh, 'bout fifteen years back. You, Amy, however… You're still a spoilt brat."
"Shut up!" Amy cried, her hands, which had been laying flat against the tabletop, curling into fists, "Just shut up! You know how sorry I am for that! I didn't know that they'd go after you!"
I yawned and rolled my eyes.
"Oh sure ya did kiddo." I replied, knowing my cheerful tone would aggravate her far worse then any yelling would, "You, uh, you just didn't give a shit. You figured, oh hey, big brother Jack's always gotten me outta all my fuck-ups before, so I'm sure he'll be able to, uh, deal with my mob gambling debts just the same."
Amy sat very still, eyes filled with guilt and anger. I giggled a little, but it wasn't really funny. Yeah, I admit it; I can't always see the humour in things. I mean, that doesn't mean the humour's not there, it just means sometimes, even the Joker has trouble finding jokes.
"You know what Jack…" Amy seemed to have found her tongue. I didn't like the way she spoke now though, there was something I'd never heard before in her voice now. She was shaking her head, as if she… as if she pitied me! What?! "I've tried apologising so many times, but you never let me. You know why?"
Hmm, this didn't sound like the plan. This sounded bad.
"Why?"
"Because you're the immature one Jack, you're the one who never grew up!" Amy spat furiously. Well, ouch. "You didn't want deal with what happened to you, you didn't want to deal with Mum dying, so you know what? You painted yourself up like a freak, grabbed a knife and decided to go make the rest of Gotham feel as fucked over as you felt."
As nervous as Amy's divergence from the established plan… (Wait, I'm not meant to be a guy with a plan…) Procedure, had me, I couldn't help but laugh and smile at the ridiculous way Amy was carrying on.
"See?!" She wasn't done it seemed. What a laugh this was. What a... a… What a joke! "Even when the truth is shoved in your face, you refuse to deal with it! Grow up Jack!"
"I did." I smiled (really smiled too, not just moved my face to emphasise the scars which is what I do to make people think I'm smiling, when really, I'm probably about to introduce them to my five inch Swedish Stainless Steel knife), "I grew up taller then you. If I do what you ask and, uh, 'grow up', I'll grow too tall to fit in my cell! Now that's not very nice of you Amy, to wish discomfort on your big brother Jack."
Amy just stared at me in utter disgust for a long moment before eventually finding the words to respond.
"It's like you aren't even in touch with reality anymore." She said, doing that annoying little head shake again, "And that's just selfish. Everyone has to deal with reality; it's not fair for you to pretend like you can just skip along, blowing buildings up and killing people, and never have to deal with reality!"
"I think I already did." I pointed out, "So, uh, that's not just my thinking I can, that's my knowing I can. Geez, don't ya watch the news or anything?"
Amy gave a frustrated screaming sort of noise and buried her face in her arms.
"I hate you Jack." I heard her muffled voice say, "And I mean it this time. I really, truly hate you. I think Dad does too. He says he doesn't, but come on, why wouldn't he?"
"I think you should, uh, ask your counsellor for a refund." I said, "They're not making you any nicer then before."
Amy looked up at me in disbelief.
"What happened to you Jack?" She asked quietly, "You used to be funny."
"I still am." I was indignant at that. I mean, I know my brand of comedy was an acquired taste, but geez, even that didn't excuse her choice of words. "People just don't get the joke anymore."
"Okay, so tell me." She sat up sharply, something like excitement entering her big brown eyes. I didn't blame her; things were reaching a crucial point here. I guess the plan was still on schedule. "What's the joke then?"
Crap. Wasn't expecting that one. Damn. The only thing I could think of to say was the truth and that wasn't funny.
"I am." I said simply, trying not bow my head. "The fact that I even exist is the joke."
"Oh." That knocked the wind out of Amy's sails at least. "I mean, um…"
"It's Tuesday right?" I interceded, "Around three?"
"Yeah."
"You have your, uh, yoga class in forty-five minutes." I tilted my head and gave her a look, "You still do those, right?"
"Yes." Amy got to her feet, gathering up her purse which she'd had sitting at her feet, "I guess I better go then. Thanks. Sort of."
I got to my feet as well, outwardly calm whilst inwardly, my heart was racing.
"Do you think you'll come, uh, see me again?"
"I hopefully won't need to." Amy smiled at me, and this time, there was something sly in her expression. "You never know, you might be get out of here sometime soon."
"Alright." I arranged a slightly disappointed look on my face, sort of like the child Amy claimed I still was.
"Hey, don't look like that." Amy said disapprovingly, stepping forward to give me a hug. "Why so serious?"
"You always did steal my lines." I muttered over her head. Then, her hand hit mine and she slid something rectangular and smooth into my grip.
"Sorry about the show I just put on, but the police have been investigating me… It took me forever to get this made." Amy whispered, "So don't do anything stupid like break it."
"I'm not a moron." I replied, "A clown maybe, but not stupid."
"Of course not." Amy drawled sarcastically, stepping away from me, "Whatever you say."
"See you soon?" I asked teasingly, as she walked to leave the room.
A sly smile, a covertly directed wink.
"Definitely."
An excerpt from the Gotham Gazette, three days later
…The escape came as a complete surprise to Gotham and Arkham authorities as the Joker had been exhibiting promising behaviour pointing to the possibility of rehabilitation of late.
An inquiry into how exactly the Clown Prince of Crime escaped Arkham revealed the visit of his younger sister, Amy Napier, known to have previous mob connections, to be responsible. At this time, it has been revealed that Amy had an electronic master key to Arkham made which she then covertly gave to her brother during her visit. The Joker then used this key to escape his cell, release his equally notorious girlfriend Harley Quinn, and flee Arkham.
Amy Napier has since evaded arrest and has been given the nickname 'the second clown', due to her joining her older brother in his latest wave of attacks of the city of Gotham.
At present, the whereabouts of the two criminal comedians is unknown, however, Police Commissioner Gordon has cleared Batman of all charged and it is now said that the renown Caped Crusader is now on the case…
I might make a series of one-shots out of this, or maybe a proper sotry with Amy as a main character...I dunno though, what do you guys think?