Joker
Story One: The Start of a Joke
Chapter Three: Cravings
Chapter Three! Ooh, I love this one. In my mind, it really kicks off a little more in terms of character aspirations and definitely the backstory of The Joker himself; the drive and his resolve.
As we continue through, I hope you as the reader can understand why I chose this to be my specific ideal of The Joker's origins. After a few more stories, I may even be able to elaborate further. Until then, enjoy!
"Do you know what authority is, Strange?"
"Yes." He answered, understanding the tenable position he was in.
"If that were true, I would expect you to follow by my example."
"Yes." Replied Strange once more.
"When my men report to me that they have found a small boy running through general population without having been spotted entering through the front door, I get anxious enough." The man poured himself a drink. "To later discover that he is not only part of our prisoner population but also that he was taken back, on your orders, to a facility I know nothing about and therefore have not authorised it is an outrage!"
"I understand how you must feel, Jeremiah-"
"That's Warden Arkham to you, doctor!" barked Jeremiah, nearly spilling his drink. "Where do you get off making my uncle's asylum your own personal petting zoo?"
"I assure you that I had no intention of-"
"Stuff it!" shouted Jeremiah, stepping closer to Strange and rising to full height. "If you'd asked me nicely, politely, I might have agreed to it. But you didn't and I won't." He rounded the desk, sitting himself prominently in his chair. "As far as I'm concerned, you're lucky I'm only axing your experiment and not you. And I'm not talking career-wise either. That was as close a threat as you'll ever hear from me."
"Understood." Said Strange, feigning submission and gratitude.
"I hate to admit it, but you're the best shrink we have. Your ego leaves much to be desired, believe me. You can't just strut around thinking you own the place. You're a doctor, I'm a warden and wardens call the shots in the funhouse. This warden says 'playtime is over'. Your experiment is over." He took another swig of his brandy. "I expect it to be converted into asylum cells and the prisoners released back into my hands."
"Hmm..." considered Strange. "That's not what I hoped you'd say." He said.
"Well, I said it. Surprise." Mocked Jeremiah. "You want me to sing it too?"
"You will approve of my work," asserted Strange, "and not interfere again." Jeremiah stood and leaned over his table.
"Didn't you hear me?" he barked in a restrained manner.
"Oh yes, I did." Assured Strange. "I agree with everything you say except for one thing. Yes, there is a divide between us. I a doctor and you a warden, but do not think for one minute that this margin of titles makes you better than I. The mind is such an easy thing to read and I've already finished the brochure equivalent of your own. This is why I know that my experiment will continue and he will approve."
"And who might 'he' be?" Jeremiah glared directly into Strange's spectacles, staring him down. Strange didn't falter, he just glared right back, the light reflecting off his glasses burning into Jeremiah's mind. It was hurting his head. The small pain slowly grew into a nagging migraine. The room slowly dissolved around him, his legs felt as though they might give way. He held out his arm to steady himself on the table, but it was not necessary. "The prisoners." He began in a raspy voice, different to his usual youthful tone. "What will happen to them?"
"Just as Amadeus would have wanted; liquidated." Answered Strange. He watched as a grin etched its way across Jeremiah's face.
"You mean how I would have wanted." Corrected the warden. "You may proceed." He continued, sitting back down in his chair. "Jeremiah will no longer impede your progress. I'll make sure to that...just as long as you dispose of the scum."
"Consider it done." Strange walked to the door but just as he reached the handle, a thought occurred to him. "May I ask another favour?"
"Mmm-hmm." Nodded the warden, his fingers locked together under his nose.
"'Doctor' is such a generic title. Call me...Professor." Already certain his request would be met, Strange walked out of the office and back downstairs. He didn't need interruptions and needless to say, he was annoyed at the constant nagging doubting voices that plagued him. His associates, his 'superiors', they all had reservations and couldn't keep it to themselves. Why was it that only he, Hugo Strange, understood that what they were doing was for the betterment of all mankind? He had no doubts. They did, and he knew why. He opened cell V and stood in the doorway staring at the man squinting back at him. Apone could recognise Strange's silhouette through the blazing light in the hall, but questioned why this man should choose to enter his cell without an armed escort. Either way, he wouldn't dare attack this man; danger was written all over him. You daren't try to hurt him because he would do the absolute worst to you. But nothing came. Strange just considered over Apone for a moment then removed an object from his pocket and threw it on the floor. He picked the key off the floor and noticed the letter etched into its face. By the time he looked up again, Strange was gone having left the door wide open. With slight apprehension at first, Apone tentatively peered through the door. Outside, the guards were following Strange down the corridor, not attempting to stop Apone from escaping, even when they saw him. When no one else was in sight, he began walking past the cells, down the alphabet. With every step, he became more confident that no one would stop him.
"Wh-No. No!" shouted Garber, noticing Apone striding freely past his cell. He watched, helplessly, as the thug stopped outside J's cell and held the key to the lock. "Help! Help!" he shouted uselessly.
"Help! Help!" mocked Apone over Garber's continued cries for help. He slipped the key into the lock.
"Don't go in there, you bastard!" warned Garber. "He's not well! He's sick! Stop!" The lock clicked and Apone pulled the door open. Shaking in the centre of the room was the small boy he had had his eyes on all this time. He wasn't scared but the widened eyes were dilated down to tiny specs. They shifted around the room and fixed on Apone. This didn't faze him; he didn't care what condition J was in, he just wanted him now.
"I'm gonna savour this moment." He said. There was a loud buzz and the titan crumpled to the floor. Behind him stood Clemens, cattle prod in hand, watching carefully as Apone twitched on the ground, drooling out of the corner of his mouth. He pried the key from Apone's limp hand, a burn mark of its shape seared into his palm. Clemens stepped over the lump and checked on J who didn't seem to be aware of anything that had taken place.
"J?" checked Clemens, taking his pulse. "Can you hear me?" J didn't respond, he didn't even blink. The boy was in a deep trauma. "Shit!" He picked up the young child in his arms and kicked the door shut.
"Doc!" sighed Garber in relief, but then he noticed J's condition. "Hey, what's happening? Is he-"
"Not now, Garber! Later! Later!" shouldered Clemens as he carried J quickly towards the medical lab.
"Patient Interview Forty-Three. Subject J attempted escape but was recaptured by Arkham staff. Subject appears to be...in withdrawals." Strange looked across the table at the small boy shivering in his chair. It was colder in this dungeon than ever before. Not that the temperature had changed, just him. "This is very fascinating. Describe to me what you are feeling?"
"S-Sad." Shivered J. "Cold. L-Lonely." He choked.
"Your body is removing the abnormal element it has experienced...or at least, remove the longing for it." Strange leaned back. "You should not have tried to leave us. Now you will be in considerable discomfort."
"I-I miss...the f-f-feeling." Whispered J. "The w-w-warmth. Please give it back to me."
"No."
"Please!" J moaned.
"You are not to attempt an escape again. Not for any reason." Strange declared firmly. "Do you understand?" He stared deeply into J's eyes, bearing down his authority upon the tiny figure.
"No."
"Argh!" The screams rang out throughout the asylum, seeping into its walls and ageing the metal. J was tossed into his cell, the guards were finished shocking him with their cattle prods. They slammed the door shut and departed, their footsteps fading into silence. Garber waited silently until they were far enough away. He listened to J's laboured breathing; shallow and upset.
"The pain will go soon." He said, unsure it was the right thing to say. He guessed at this point, in this place, there was no right thing. "Just keep breathing and don't move. Your muscles will unclench when the shock has passed, believe me. I know." Garber paused, waiting for a noise, just some sign that J could hear him and that he was alright. His breathing seemed to slow and that was enough for him. "On the outside, I didn't have anyone looking out for me." He continued, trying to build up to his point. "I was a loner and I was petty. Then Rachel turned me around. Slowly at first, then when I found out we were gonna have a baby, I knew then and there that I had to get my act together. I got a job, bought a house, nothing too fancy but it was our home. We got married and had a few more children. For a while, it all went well. We were happy." This was what Garber had been building to and the words came to him with more difficulty. "B-But I couldn't cope. The work was too...clean. I got dirty again, I couldn't help it. It got to the point where I felt like the world was suffocating me, my own family was in the way." Garber couldn't finish his story like this. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying. "To answer your question, J, yes I had a son. His name was Luke. He had two sisters called Krystelle and Miriam and I loved them all very much. They're all gone now; the kids, Rachel, the house...because of me." He tried to keep himself together; this was all so hard for him. He had never admitted it to anyone else or himself for that matter. It was about time that he did. "I deserve to be in this place more than a lot of these other guys. I've got the blood on my hands and I've paid for it. When I saw you in the Mess, kid, I thought it was a sign of redemption. I promise I'll always be there for you, J. Even if I wasn't there for my family." He sat in silence for a moment, exhaling his past. He meant every word. Then, it had been silent for too long. "J?" Garber stood up, walked to the cell door and peeked out through it. "J?" He could just see, wide open, J's own door. Garber looked from left to right but J was nowhere in sight. He opened his mouth to call for help but then decided not to shout anything. He hadn't seen the open door, he didn't know that J was gone and if anyone asked, he had been sitting quietly in his cell counting the seconds ticking by. Garber took a seat against the wall and smiled to himself. "Little bastard." He chuckled.
Strange watched over his dominion. Something was amiss. He couldn't see it, but there was a tingling sensation in the back of his mind that told him things were going wrong. As a man of perfection, Hugo Strange had a knack for disliking imperfection. Where others saw a minor flaw to be changed, he saw something to be disposed of. The most prominent matter was his inability to make his opinions sacrosanct. He could hear the thoughts of the men and women around him. Oh, they worked for him but did they truly believe as he does? If given the choice, would they side with him? How could he actually depend on these people to carry out his, in their opinion, monstrous orders on such a flimsy promise as currency? And above all those whom he doubted was him; David Clemens. The man was a time bomb just waiting to destroy everything he had worked for in an explosion of moral and ethical insight. Strange could see that the good doctor was compromised; that his relationship with Subject J had become more than professional. This was the world as Hugo Strange saw it: everyone was out to get him. "Here's that medical report you wanted, sir." Said Clemens, handing a folder to Strange.
"You remembered all the analysis notes?" asked Strange, flicking through the pages.
"Yes. And you're welcome." Clemens waited for Strange to notice he was still there. On this rare occasion, he did.
"What is it now, doctor?"
"Well, it's the strangest thing, professor." Began Clemens, folding his arms. "I was doing my rounds when I found Patient V in a rather peculiar place."
"Mmm." Responded Strange nonchalantly. "And where was that?"
"Cell J. Now I wonder what on Earth he was doing there?" pondered Clemens. "Not only outside of his own cell but in another's. Above all, your priceless specimens'. Why would he go there and not try and escape, you reckon?" Strange considered for a moment, pretending to recall all the details he had taken down of Apone.
"Perhaps the locks are becoming rusted and insufficient for our needs. We'll need to replace them with some kind of electronic key encryption device." Strange left the conversation there, but Clemens dragged him back in.
"But why would he go to J's cell, Strange?" he questioned, almost rounding on him. "He could have escaped, so why not do that?"
"You realise who that man was before he came here, don't you?" rebutted Strange with another question. "Murderer, arsonist, dealer in several trades, rapist and...child molester. It's quite apparent to me that Mr. Apone could not resist the temptation of one last romp with our only resident minor. You see, it's all very simple to explain."
"Ok." Nodded Clemens, appearing to accept Strange's explanation. "You're quite right." Strange left the conversation again, returning to his thoughts as he flicked through the file. He had figured Clemens to be brighter; he'd bought his story easier than expected. "Oh, and I think this is yours." Clemens handed a key to Strange who pocketed it immediately before thinking.
"Thank y-" He realised what a big mistake he had just made. As Clemens made one last loathing glare at Strange, he made his exit, leaving victorious. Hugo retrieved the key from his pocket and stared down at the 'J' carved into its face. The doctor strode down the corridor of cells with an air of satisfaction about him. From day one Strange had turned his nose up at him, but now he had been beaten at his own mind game. The smugness he was experiencing blinded him to the fact that one of the cell doors was wide open in his path. That is, until a whistling tune caught his ear from the next cell down.
"Garber. Where's J? He's not in his cell." Clemens rounded urgently on the occupant of cell I who seemed content just to whistle. "Well, where is he?"
"I never could remember how that Greek song went." Distracted Garber. "I know the words but not the tune. Da-da-da a Monday, a Tuesday, a Wednesd-"
"If he's escaped again, you have to tell me so I can do something!" insisted Clemens.
"Why? What if he has escaped, are you gonna throw him back in there?" Garber stood up and pressed his face against the door. "You of all people want to see him get out, why not let him have a freaking chance and do it?"
"He was lucky last time! Don't you realise the reason why we found him in the asylum's general population? They were in lockdown at the time but now it is completely different. What if he gets up there and the psychos are free to roam? You think they'll take the high ground or can you imagine that there are a dozen Apones up there just waiting to get their hands on a young kid?" Clemens pleaded to Garber through his eyes. "I can point him in the right direction...just give me that chance." Garber rolled his eyes, unsure if the decision he was making was the right one.
"I think he was heading to the laundry." And immediately, Clemens departed for the laundry. No one was present when he arrived, the room was untouched. He checked everywhere about the room; the cupboards, the presses, the wringer and even around the boiler. Nothing. He was about to pack it all in when he noticed the sound of rushing air. The overhanging vent had made such a racket this whole time that nobody noticed it anymore. He checked around the sealed grate; enough room between the boiler and the vent for a boy of J's size to squeeze through. It only took a very light tap on the grate itself to release it, causing it to fall with a loud clatter onto the boiler. That's how he'd done it; the screws holding the grate in place had become so rusted due to the steam that it only took a bit of force to break them. He'd crawled up and out into the asylum. Garber quickly stuck the grate back in place and turned to leave, stopped by the figure of Hugo Strange standing in his way.
"What are you doing down here, David?" he boomingly asked.
"Just checking around in case we need maintenance on anything." He explained quickly.
"Your resume stated that you were a doctor. I had no idea you also had qualifications as a...chimney sweep." Strange half-smiled.
"Checking health hazards for my patients is part of the job description. I'd hate to have one of these machines break and cut your experiment short." And with that, Clemens walked around Strange and left. He had something more important to do.
J needed to see the light again. It was running through his soul, his body yearning to feel it touch his skin once more. He had taken a left where he had first turned right and many other various directions in this maze of disgusting sights. Around every corner he heard people screaming. With every gaze he saw horrendous images of men and women who had no life left and the air smelt sterilised, masking the odours J didn't want to think about. Whatever produced such a foul stench was only created to clean up something fouler. Hearing approaching footsteps, he ducked into a room and closed the door. Shadows passed underneath the frame but J was far from secure. He had turned around to find out where he was and discovered a dozen people strapped to gurneys, all sedated. J feared had they not been, the room would have been much more ferocious. He tip toed through the room towards the door at the other end. Just as he reached half way, one of the patients screamed in terror at the boy. The rest all awoke, each of them in turn making ghastly noises of their own. Some bawled their lungs out in terror, others hollered and shouted aggressively while the odd few licked the air and whispered to the boy to come closer. J ran for his life through the far door and past several doctors. They called after him but he was gone before they had time to catch him. Alarms buzzed in his ears as he turned down corridor into corridor. Suddenly, he bumped into another doctor, this time they had a tight grip on him. "Let go of me!" he screamed. "Let go!" The man pulled him aside into a small office and turned him around.
"It's okay! It's okay, see." Calmed Clemens, patting his head. "I'm here to help you." He gave the boy a hug; he was shivering with fear. "Are you hurt? Did anyone hurt you?"
"No." choked J. "I don't wanna go back."
"Shh. Shh-shh, I know. You're not going back." Clemens looked around the room for anything to help J escape. "I need you to be very brave, very quiet and do everything I say, okay?" J nodded; he knew Clemens wouldn't do anything to hurt him. His earliest memories were of Clemens back in his old room. It was better back then, when all they did was talk to him. Here they were now; the doctor rolling a gurney down the thin halls of Arkham Asylum and the little boy hiding underneath with only a sheet between him and the rest of the world. So far so good, everything was going fine. They had just entered prisoner transfer where, hopefully, they would be able to make the tunnel that led to the Medical Block. They were stopped by one of the guards as per usual; Reggie Maclimoor.
"How ya goin', doc? Haven't seen you in a while." He mused, scribbling down on a clipboard. "Where you been hiding?"
"Nobody's healthy forever, Reg." smiled Clemens, signing his signature on the clipboard. "You're the one who's sick when I'm not around. Someone would think you were avoiding me." Reggie laughed.
"With that bedside manner, I'll be liable to catch the flu more often!" he joked. "Go on through, mate. See ya." He waved them by and remained none the wiser.
"Good work, J." whispered Clemens out of earshot. As they rounded the corner, Reggie caught a glimpse of something unusual; an extra pair of feet was walking underneath the gurney Clemens was rolling through the far door. He grabbed his radio and held it up to his mouth.
"P.T. to the Warden." He said.
"Go ahead." Came the Warden's voice.
"You know that escape alert we've got on?"
"What about it?"
"I just saw Doc Clemens rolling a bed down to Med Block...and someone was walking under it." The microphone went funny, as if it were shifting to another channel.
And then; "Are you sure, Prisoner Transfer?" checked Hugo Strange who had taken over the call.
"Positive."
They'd been caught. Clemens saw them approaching from both ends of the hallway to freedom and now it was over. Dozens of guards swarmed around him, their guns pointed at his chest. As a doctor, if they shot him at this range, there was no way any medical attention would help. He saw them part down one side and between them strode Hugo, his whitest coat and brightest smile present with him. A moment's glance was followed with a click of the fingers and two guards overturned the gurney to reveal Clemens' demise...or was it? The doctor's hope rose as he watched Strange's smile fall into a frown of anger. "Where is he?" he barked. Clemens looked down and saw that J had disappeared. He turned back to Strange with a real bemused expression.
"To be honest," he said truthfully, "I have absolutely no idea." Strange sighed heavily in irritation. "Why? Did he escape again?"
There was a commotion amongst the prisoners. They had been let out of their cells to be allowed to walk around when they jumped at the sight of a boy running through them. They applauded as he weaved around their legs and they tried to trip up the guards chasing him. No one here knew who he was, but they were eager for a show of some kind. J didn't even stop to think about where he was going. All he knew was that there had to be somewhere else to run and that was where he was going. He pushed on through room after room, barely keeping out of reach and all that was left was one last corridor. Time slowed, his steps became heavy, breaths came and went with great difficulty and the distance seemed to grow the closer he came. A lifetime had passed when he finally burst through the door and faltered to the soft ground. The surface was brown and thick with matted patches of grass. It didn't matter how ugly it appeared, it felt wonderfully organic, beautifully real. With everything he had left, J raised his head and peered up at the sun, the familiar warmth fuelling his body once more. Now he remembered where he had seen it before.
He had been so young. There had been a woman there with him. She had brought paper and crayons and had watched him draw. At one point she had even joined in and when he saw her picture, it didn't make sense. "What's that?" he had asked. She looked down at it and then realised he hadn't seen anything like it.
"It's called the sun." she had told him. "It shines in the sky and makes us warm."
"What's the sky?" he asked as children incessantly do. She was about to answer when-
"Nurse Chaplain, how's our boy doing today?" interrupted Clemens, well aware of the things she had been telling J.
"We're drawing pictures." She said brightly. Clemens glanced over at the mirror on the wall.
"Well, let's see what you've done here." He rounded the table to J's side and picked up his paper. His eyes slowly filled with horror and disgust at the memory. Chaplain noticed this and reached out for the paper.
"What is that?" she asked but Clemens overturned the picture and held it down against the table. He took a deep, uneasy breath.
"J, what is this?" he asked the boy chewing on his crayon.
"My mommy."
He had been so relaxed with ecstasy in the sunlight that he hadn't been aware of the guards that had circled around him. Strange was there and Clemens too, in the background. Eventually, when he was ready, J stood up off his knees, swivelled on his heels and walked right back into the building, the guards keeping close to him. One day that sun would be there for him, but not today. It had taken hours and still Clemens couldn't understand why nothing had happened. Neither he nor J had been punished. All that happened afterwards was a quick physical in which Clemens inspected J for injury, sterilised him and personally returned him to his cell without a peep. All he got out of J was a smile and he wasn't even sure if it was a good sign. Here he stood before Professor Hugo Strange, or at least the back of him. He suspected that this would be the end, that he would soon find out what would happen to those who cross the great Professor Strange. "Stand easy, Mr. Clemens. You're looking much too nervous." He said. "Nothing is going to happen."
"Nothing?" Clemens was astounded.
"I am not just watching our subject's actions. They are not simply the be all and end all of my experiment. Environmental factors have to be taken into account." He explained. Finally, Clemens got it.
"We're all part of it." He said. "All of us. You're testing our reactions as well as theirs."
"Why would I punish you for being a natural element?" asked Strange rhetorically, making sure that this was where that conversation ended. "How was the physical?" he asked, moving on.
"Nothing too severe, but there was something that jumped out at me. I did find several burn marks on his skin. How do you suppose he came by them?"
"That steam vent must be quite warm, he would be easily burnt. No matter, I've had it sealed tight this time with regular inspection."
"These burns bare a remarkable similarity to pacified patients when they've been shocked." Clemens said bluntly. Strange faced him now.
"I can't be responsible for the actions of every guard." He replied forcefully.
"Free will. It's just another natural element." Clemens approached the door. "You know what else a natural element is? Uncontrollable."
Thank you very much for reading! I think there will be at least one or two more chapters left for this story which will extend further into The Joker's backstory. I've had to give up writing one of my other stories at the same time as this because I'm just so engrossed in this story!
I would like to thank Keywee for her reviews and inspiration and most definitely recommend her own origin story for The Joker, 'The House That Jack Built'. It is an engrossing take on the Clown Prince of Crime and a cracking read! You'll be hooked, trust me.
Once again, thank you and please review or PM! Inspirational stuff, it keeps me writing.