{A/N: I'm always excited for chapter one of a new story. This one was okay, getting they story rolling and all, but I'm looking forward to nimber two. I know it seems mighty generic right now, but I'm going to try and make it good. I actually had to cut this one off because it was going on too long. Anyway, enjoy the first official chapter.{

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1: Now you don't

Four months, and twenty six days had passed since the Joker had been caught and locked up in Arkham. Contrary to what most would have thought, The Joker didn't find this at all his prison. He thought of himself as more of a transient within the padded walls. He was waiting for the right moment was all. He was going to get out of course. No building known to man had yet held The Joker against his will. Right now he was letting things stew. The city had been in shambles the last time he'd brought his own unique brand of terror to its streets, and he was letting them build back up. All the more fun to tear them down again when they thought they were safe. And as for Batman…Well, the joker would be catching up with him again soon. He really was missing his old friend and all the good times they had playing together.

The Joker looked around the small and dingy room. He wasn't a man of excess, but the room was as empty as a skeleton. A plastic-covered light bulb, a toilet, a plastic mirror set into the wall; all designed so that he couldn't make a weapon from any of it. Even the mattress in the corner was special ordered, lest he get any ideas about stabbing the staff with a spring. He chuckled to himself. They were idiots.

"Almost time," he muttered to no one, looking at an imaginary clock on the wall. He couldn't ever tell what time of day it was because he had no devices for such and no window to estimate by the position of the sun. No matter, he had it fairly well guess by the routine meals and bed checks that occurred throughout the day. They had to keep to a schedule after all. He grinned, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

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Desiree sighed loudly as she retreated to the safety of the employee break room. She moved toward one of the three empty chairs and collapsed into it, groaning at the undeniable hell that was her life. Her friend, Monica West, looked at her over her cup of coffee.

"What now?" she asked.

Desiree lifted her head from her forearm and sighed again, this time more softly. "I hate this job."

"Yeah, who the hell doesn't?"

Desiree rolled her eyes at her friends suck-it-up attitude. She had started working at this job only three weeks ago, but it seemed much, much longer. It wasn't that her job was hard, just do bed checks every half hour in the women's ward and mark the patients presence. Easy. No, it was the residents of Arkham Asylum that she didn't like. The ones she came into contact with were non-threats, ones who had no violent tendencies, but they were crazy none the less. She really felt bad for them; all cooped up in here virtually alone because no one understood them. They were lifers. You didn't get into Arkham unless you were grade A, 100% nuts. Most of the women were older ladies, but a few were her age or younger. She could easily picture herself in their place, and that creeped her out.

Monica checked her watch. "Shit, I've got to do checks in Ward 5. Come with and you can tell me all about it." They got up and went toward the elevator. It came fairly quickly, and as soon as the doors opened they boarded and pressed the button to sub-basement B.

Monica had been working here going on ten years, which was probably the only reason she was aloud near the patients of Ward 5. Ward 5 was reserved for the most ruthless, homicidal, psychotic, and sociopathic patients of Arkham. It gave Desiree chills just thinking about what was in those cells. She didn't get how Monica could do it every single day; the woman was a rock.

Monica shook her black curls out of her eyes and tapped her pen on her clipboard. She looked bored.

'All in a day's work for Wonder Woman', Desiree supposed.

The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened with a creak. Desiree wasn't sure if it was just her, but everything seemed down here seemed to soak up the atmosphere. Even the elevator became more menacing…not that she thought elevators were scary. They approached a heavy door that lead to the guard room. You had to go through the guard room to actually get to the patient hall. Security was first priority on this floor.

"So, what's the issue?" Monica questioned absent-mindedly as she went through her key ring to find the right one. She located it and unlocked the door before Desiree answered.

"Uh…the patients. I don't know, it's just depressing is all. It makes me think of my dad in a way." Desiree confessed.

Her father had come down with Alzheimer's disease about a year ago, and now he was in an assisted care facility. At first she'd stayed home and taken care of him herself, but his pension from the factory he used to work at ran out and she had to get a job. It was too risky to leave him alone; at that point he didn't know where he lived or even recognize her face. So she had to make a choice. She chose to take care of him the only way she had left. That's how she ended up getting a job here. A friend of a friend was in the administrations department and the rest is history.

"Well hon, you just have to remember why you're doing this then, don't you?" She said it with a smile, knowing that Desiree had given up a lot to care for her father. She felt proud of the girl for having the guts.

"You're right."

They entered the guard room and the two men. One resident and the actual guard were behind the desk, both with eyes glued to a small TV. Apparently you didn't have a lot of things to fill your day down here.

The guard, who must have been pushing into his mid-fifties, looked up. He gave a small wave and made a note on the sheet in front of him.

"Hey there Monica. Have a good lunch?" he asked.

"Yeah, until this one decided I was Oprah and had to solve her problems," she joked.

The man smiled. He nudged the young resident with an elbow. "Hector, time to work."

Hector, a six foot-six man of some kind of Island descent, stood and stretched. Desiree was awed. His bicep was bigger that her head. She was sure Hector must have been hired for just this reason, because who else would you want around in case one of these lunatics got the better of you?

Hector noticed Desiree staring and gave her a wink. "You should come down here more often cutie."

"Don't you start…" the security guard warned in a fatherly tone.

Hector made a rude gesture. "Eh, whatever old-timer."

Monica suddenly tapped Desiree's shoulder. She leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Sweetie, it seems my body is betraying me." Desiree cocked an eyebrow. She didn't get it. "I'm having my special monthly visitor?" Monica tried again.

"Oh!" Desiree exclaimed softly. She looked down at Monica's clipboard. "What about bed checks?"

There were two thing you absolutely never did at Arkham. You never steal medical supplies, and you never miss bed checks.

"You think that you can cover me on this one?" Monica pleaded.

Desiree's eyes widened. Her, check on the Ward 5 patients? No way. She shook her head.

"Please, I'll owe you one. Hector will be with you. You'll be as safe as houses."

Desiree looked from Hector to Monica, a skeptical look on her face. "Houses burn down."

Monica shoved the clipboard in her hand and gave her the keys and her ID badge. "You'll do fine, just don't talk to any of them, okay?" She leaned around the Desiree and shouted to the guard. "Desiree is going to be doing my checks today, alright Phil?"

"I don't know, Monica…"

"It's an emergency, trust me."

With that Monica was in the elevator and jamming her thumb into the button. The doors slid shut and she was gone.

Desiree looked around for some kind of help, but found none. She was going to have to do this. She clipped the badge to her pants and adjusted the clipboard, taking the keys into her free hand. Hector came over and put a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to shrug it off, but didn't want to be rude.

"It's okay, I can take care of you. We'll be a great team."

He steered her to the door. She ran the badge through the reader and when the light at the top went from red to green, she unlocked the door with the key. The hallway beyond was long, dark, and eerie. The doors were heavy steel with a small window to look through. In the canter of the door was the device that allowed you to push the food trays through without having to actually go inside. Desiree liked that idea. She went to the first door and peeked timidly through the thick glass. A pair of eyes stared wildly at her from the other side. The man let out a loud shriek and she jumped back.

Hector laughed. "You have to watch out, these guys love to screw with you." Clearly he though she was a wimp and incapable of even this simple of a task. She decided Hector was not one of her favorite people. She marked cellmate 62794, Markus Thatcher, as accounted for and turned on her heel to the door behind her. They went on in this fashion until they got to the last two doors.

She knew who was here. The last two additions to Ward 5 were infamous. The first was none other than the former psychopharmacologist of Arkham, Dr. Jonathan Crane. Also known as the Scarecrow. She had seen him only a few times, but she was shocked as anyone when what he was doing turned up. He became a victim of his own methods, thanks to Batman, and was locked up nice and tight. The other…was The Joker. He had the city at his feet only a few months ago until Batman once again saved the day. Desiree was saddened that the whole city was against him now; he was only trying to help. What happened to Harvey Dent was a little shady, and she didn't quite believe what the papers and new were saying. She didn't believe that Batman did it. He was good.

Desiree nervously leaned forward to look into Crane's cell. He was on his bed, looking at the wall opposite him. He was muttering rapidly to himself, but when she peaked in he stopped and turned to look at her. A smile pulled at his lips and he said something directly to her.. She couldn't hear him through the thick door, and was grateful for that. Next was none other than the Clown Prince of Crime himself, The Joker.

Hector had stayed a little behind when they got to these last two doors and all of the sudden seemed very interested in his fingernails. Desiree scoffed. 'Some protector he is.' She peered through the eight by eight inch window and looked around. No Joker. She even tried getting really close to check right next to the door, but she still couldn't' see him. It was then that she noticed the light in the room was off. Her heart skipped a beat. He was gone. She knew the guy was an escape artist, but this was impossible. There was no way that he got out of there, let alone without a single person seeing him.

"Hector…" Desiree began slowly. "The Joker is missing."

Hector came over and pushed her out of the way. He looked around much in the same fashion she did before a worried…no, terrified expression came to his face. A visible bead of sweat rolled down his temple. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit!"

He picked up his walkie and pressed the call button. "Phil, give me a visual on cell 66561."

They waited in tense silence for a few seconds. The radio crackled and Phil's voice came through. "No visual. I repeat, no visual. You want me to signal the alarm?"

Hector pressed the button again. "I'm going in to make sure, gimme a second."

"Copy."

Hector took his own set of keys and stuck the appropriate key into the slot. Desiree's hand shot out to stop him before he turned the lock. "Hector, don't. This is all way too fishy. What if it's a trap?"

"I have to see, it's my job."

"Is it worth your life?" she demanded. "Let Phil call for back up."

Hector shook his head. "Naw, I can take him. I just can't let him get me by surprise."

Before she could stop him, he turned the key and the handle to the door. They both waited, anticipating the worst, but seconds passed and not a peep. Desiree turned and saw Dr. Crane at his window, peering out in interest. Her eyes met his and he smiled again. He nodded down the hall and mouthed 'He went that way'. Her brow furrowed and she turned away to watch Hector enter the cell. He stood in the middle of the room and looked around. He turned back to her and shrugged before going to look around. Her heart started pounding, her mind raced to think of all the places he could be hiding.

A dark shadow dropped from the doorframe and she gasped in shock. He somehow had gotten above the doorframe and stayed out of sight. She realized he must have held on to the water pipe that ran near the ceiling along the room. It was an old building and this was the basement, they didn't bother doing internal pipes down here.

She tried to yell to warn Hector, but her vocal chords were paralyzed from fear. She tried again as the figure approached his back. This time she manages to rasp out a harsh "Watch out!", but it was too late. Hector turned and the Joker, having quickly removed Hector's keys from his possession, slashed his throat. Hector choked and sputtered, calling for help but only letting out a sick gurgling sound. Desiree watched in horror as he sank to his knees and fell face-first to the ground.

"Now you see me," The Joker said gleefully to Hector's dead body.

Not wasting another moment, Desiree turned and ran. She could hear the maniacal laughter of all the inmates as she sprinted by. She didn't know how they all knew what was going on, but she didn't care. She was going to get the fuck out of here. She was feet from the door now; she fumbled with the keys, desperately searching for the right one. She found it, and with a cry of joy, shoved it into the lock.

A force like a freight train barreled into her and slammed her into the door. She was crushed into the steed and then crumpled to the ground. Even before she had a second to look up, a bloody set of keys found its way to her neck. She froze, waiting for them to picture through and cause her to bleed out like Hector.

"Now, you probably shouldn't move, I've been locked up in that bitty box for quite a while and I'm feeling a bit antsy." The Joker's warned her. She knew his voice, she heard it on TV when they played the tape of him killing the fake Batman. It played for weeks afterward. "I'm going to need your help to get out of here, alright-" he looked over her shoulder to see her nametag "Desiree?"

She gulped and nodded almost imperceptibly. She didn't want him to think she was making any sudden moves. He patted her head.

"Good girl. Now you tell good ol' Phil in there that everything is a-okay in here, got it?"

She let out a sob and he pushed the key into her skin until the point where it started to break the skin. "Yes! Yes," she agreed.

His other hand came around with the walkie and he pushed the call button.

"Uh, Phil," she gasped.

"Hey, is everything alright in there? I heard a bang."

"Yeah, just a false alarm. Me and Hector will be there in a second."

The Joker dropped the walkie and grabbed Desiree by the back of her neck, keeping the keys to her tender throat. "Nice job there sweetheart. Now open the door."

She did as she was told and turned the key and the handle to the door. He shoved her through and in a flash was jumping over the desk, tackling poor Phil out of his chair. She heard the dull thuds and eventually the wet smacking noises of Phil being stabbed to death with a set of keys. She wanted to vomit at the thought. She got to her feet and started toward the door, but a hand grabbed her hair and she nearly ripped a chunk of it out from her own momentum. She tried not to fall as she regained her balance, The Joker still fisting most of her hair.

"Here I thought we had and agreement…" he sighed. She couldn't see his face, and was grateful. She was sure if she got a good look at his scars that she'd be a blubbering mess. "Tell me Des, do you want to die?"

She shook her head.

"You know who I am?"

Confused, she nodded this time.

"Then you know that uh, if you do that again, I'm going to have to discipline you. You don't want that."

Mortified at the prospect she shook her head once more.

"Good to see we're on the same page now." He leaned over her shoulder, lips brushing her ear. She shuddered so violently that her teeth chattered together. He laughed cruelly. "Let's go let some of the animals out of their cages, shall we?"

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{A/N: An voila, there it is. Magic...}