Author's note: Hello Everyone! It's been a busy few days on my part with much excitement, because I am one step closer to a College goal of mine! (To get a decent night's sleep...) If I should be so lucky. Good to see you all stopping in and I finally have the next chapter for you! It's going to be fun. XD By the way, as always, I own nothing and I make no money. No Money! Sadness...

Now It's time for my responses to the reviews. Yay response time!
To...
memyselfandi89: Your comment made me smile and laugh so hard... heheheh. I also love it when things go wrong.
Green Jewels: Thank you for the compliment on the Arkham scene! And for your suggestion which, believe it or not... I don't understand. "A greater economy with words would improve the flow." That sounds like great advice! what do you mean by economy though? Is it that I should use more variations in the word department, or less and be more consistent? I feel silly for not grasping this so if you or anyone else can clear this up for me I'll appreciate it. :)

By the way, thank you so much for your recent review! I had 2 versions of this chapter and the one I uploaded was, accidentally, the unedited version that "coincidentally" inspired this entire story. For that reason it suckethed over. I have since corrected my mistake. Accept my apologies. :)
On the italics V.S the parenthesis I see your point, that is the proper way to do it. I however always found that (this) helped to focus my attention in, and that always made me think of going (into) an persons mind. Besides that I'd have to go back and revise all 3 preceding chapters. I will keep it in mind, but this is something I probably won't change.
And lastly, thank you for the economy explanation! I was almost right. I will try to apply that in the future.

DXRULES103: I agree, the two of them working together will be rickety at best. It kind of all depends on how amused Gordon can keep the Joker, and how intent the Joker is on locating Batman.
SaJi: I love this! X3! that made me smile. And yes, let him play, Co-missioner.
To everyone else who reviewed: Thank you for your continued attention and support! I hope to see more of all of you!

I must inform everyone that progress may slow down a little not due to schoolwork and the revisions I'm conducting of some of my older work, but please keep checking in because I will be!

Read, enjoy, and review because I want to know what you think! Alright, moving on!

"Introduce a little anarchy, upset the established order..." Joker, The Dark Knight

Chapter Three
Joker & Commissioner Gordon

(It's all… part of the plan...)

The lights are always dim down the halls where the truly dangerous inmates of Arkham are maintained. Is faulty wiring to blame? That's certainly possible since these halls are the deepest set in the structure. The building was old even when it was new to its current purpose in the world; old enough and strange enough to have bad wires, or supposedly be haunted…
But he didn't believe in ghosts. No, not ghosts, or gods, or angels or devils, no. That's not to say there aren't any there, in a building like Arkham they very well could be. But if they were, if, they were strangers at the Joker's table of war. Therefore until they stepped forward and introduced themselves they would not be noted.

His face paint had been smudged away by now; the staff had made sure of that. It had unnerved them, disturbed them, made them stare too long to notice the small dangerous motions he was capable of. One would think that from working in a madhouse they might have grown wise to some of his behaviors. (Ah… no.)
And so the paint had been removed; but the smile… that lingered.

In the solitude his mind was drifting freely, looping in on itself. (Part of the plan… Hah. No it isn't, no, it isn't. There's never really a plan. You see plans, plans… they're dangerous things. You put faith in them, you rely on them, depend on them, worst of all make other plans around them. Then, if something doesn't go 'according to plan' it's a crisis! People get upset! People break down! And let's just face it; life's too short for being that serious.)

He could hear the guard's nervous shuffling outside the door, he could hear… hmmmmm… yes, two people coming down the hall towards his cell. They sound rushed, (why rush? This building might well be where all time originates before it's loaned out to the rapidly swelling human population.

I don't do plans, I prepare for them. A person like me can always trust other people to make reasonable plans and then, then it's the easiest thing in the world to warp them, stretch them... I'm good at working with what I'm given.
For example i've got a few magic tricks, nothing fancy, but oh! You'll die when you see them.
Humanity doesn't yet grasp that being ingenuitive, being creative and spontaneous, it's much more important than keeping to a schedule. If something goes "wrong" it's no skin off my back, it's just another twist in "The Plan." Now do I, do I really look to anyone like someone who's interested in making sense? It's not that I can't do that, sense tends to force itself onto the best of us so it's often hanging somewhere around me… But people… people… People always seem so shocked by these ideas. It does make sense. Everything does. I'm not here to point that out, they find it themselves if they want to. I'm not a babysitter. ) He let his chin rest against the vest. (I am bored-bored-bored! I am bored out of my mind.)

Some of those 'ignorant people' are looking at him now through the glass of his door. Yes, there's two of them. (It's nice to be right when the world remains wrong… waning philosophical again, hm? That's dangerous… very dangerous.) He would acknowledge them further if he had the means but they remain outside, and he in. Still, hope springs eternal…

(People… you see, listen, people always try to look at things logically. You're brainwashed early on to have a herd mentality, monkey see and do. Then, oh then you're told that you're a person, not an animal, so you can't do things. Forget the hypocrisy that the system's already turned you into lambs up for slaughtering; you're already stool pigeons and lap dogs, but you're not 'animals.' Sometimes I think if people spent one hour a day, just one, doing what they actually want to do, without the fear of someone else hitting them with a newspaper--well… the whole world might change.)

The door opens… he doesn't watch it happen. No reason to make his guest uncomfortable during this oh so auspicious first visit.
He allows the visitor time to take in his surroundings, the walls, the ceiling light, the smell… he can't be held accountable for that. It's hot as hell in here. Some attention is paid to the bolted down table in the therapy room. That failure of a writing surface is an unforgivable eyesore.

More foam and padding has probably been wasted on that monster then a typical person finds insulating their attic.

(But you aren't interested in that anymore, are you sir? No, you can pay attention to me now; that is why you're here. Let's move on to something more important. This is your first visit, I, wonder, why? Ah, but where are my manners…)

"Evening, Co-missioner."

The Police Commissioner came further into the cell and took a seat on an amazingly padded chair.

The asylum had padded that chair and its partner for the same reason they'd padded the room and the table. This was a recent change made on account of an increase in violence that had occurred in the space. 'Who knew?' that you could take a chair, one that couldn't even be moved from its place on the floor, and do… Actually, there probably wasn't a term for what had occurred to the guard on that chair. There should be. There wasn't.

The Joker studied his company, taking in the details to form an assumption for what might follow. (Let's see… You dislike me so this isn't a friendly call. I'm not offended by the way. I'm almost fond of you, actually, since you keep an eye on my Bat for me. I appreciate help where I can get it. But back to you sir… back to you. It's been a long night, hasn't it? Your shoulders are down and your mouth is tight… I'll tell you to smile more before you leave. Doesn't it take fewer muscles in the face to smile then frown? I heard that somewhere an age ago, it seemed… profound. Smiling is another thing people don't understand. Smiling can be the hardest thing a person ever does, if certain circumstances come into play.
And they really do come into play all too often. I'm distracted again. Why are you here? Tell me, tell me, tell me! Hah! I'm all ears… well say something.

It's rude to sit and stare.

Is this about Harvey-harvey-Dent?

Is it the scars?)

Commissioner Gordon finally acknowledged the clown. "Hello Joker."

Now both men were studying each other. Commissioner Gordon could see that the clown's smile had stretched somewhat, a calculating gleam shone in the psychopath's eyes. He lets the silence linger a little longer, it will be easier for him to make his points if the Joker's paying full attention. Like a game of wills without a referee they continued to stare each other down.

The Joker's smile widened further, (I wonder if you're thinking of the last time we sat across from each other like this. I am, of course I am, that memory's going to keep my spirits up many a dark and dreary day.)
He leans forward. "…So… hm, how to say this..? You look tired, and I, I'm wide awake. With that in mind I'd appreciate if we could move this along. I've got an appointment with a sedative and a laundry fresh strait jacket that can't wait. You can smell for yourself."

Gordon shows no response to the statement. "I think it can wait."

"You've got my interest."

The commissioner braces, "I'm going to need a lot more than that."

This amuses the Joker. He stands, begins to move around the table..."Oh? Do tell. But, Commissioner..." He leans forward, eyes cold suddenly though no darker than before. "I hope this has something to do with something, uh… "interesting." you are interrupting my vacation. I don't often do warnings, you know, so keep this moving. Keep my attention."

Commissioner Gordon tells himself again that he is prepared for the task at hand. (He's only one man, I can convince one man to do something that needs to be done.) Failure was not an option tonight. "This is about Batman and it involves everyone, including you. He's missing."

The Joker's shoulders rise, his back stiffens. Little question exists that these words have had an impact on the madman. His hands remained still; probably because they are bound to his chest. Through a rip in the jacket the pinky of the left hand is exposed, it taps against the binding fabric almost like a twitch.

There is no smile on that face anymore. The Joker's voice is suddenly rough, grating,"…Missing? How can you be sure? I wasn't aware you kept such close tabs on each other, and I should have been, I should have been... You're going to make the rest of us jealous, Co-missioner. I, I don't think you want that--"

What followed came so quickly that Gordon could hardly believe he'd seen it. The Joker jerked violently forward and writhed in his restraints, the left hand and the arm attached to it seized and an ungodly sounding crack came from the attached shoulder. It almost seemed the limb slithered out of the fabric, the angle it pulled back with was unnatural and twisted. Just like that the arm was free and it shot out through the neck hole and stretched between them, grabbed Gordon by his tie.
The Joker pulled him in close; breathed into his face, "--you really don't!"

"Joker I'm warning you--!" Gordon had instinctively grabbed for the fabric, the Joker instinctively tightened it. It hugged Gordon's neck like a noose. Another threatening 'tug' convinced the officer not to move his hands.

"No, what you are doing is stalling for time. They…" the clown jerked his head to the door. "…won't help you. Someone has to run and fetch the bigger sedative gun, and then they aren't coming in until I stop twitching. Bad luck for you my friend for this is not your day! Now…" His eyes returned to Gordon's own, "We've bought ourselves some time, to get… better acquainted! And I think we should take full advantage of it." The grip on Gordon's tie faltered, a tremor shook the arm that held it.

For a moment the Joker seemed surprised, as if he'd forgotten that the limb in question had been compromised when he freed it.

So had the Commissioner to his embarrassment.

As both considered this the Joker chuckled, brushed it off like a foolish conversation starter. "Opps. 'Excuse me,' I need to fix this."

With no further warning he threw his weight backward on the tie and it tightened drastically.

Gordon reached for it gagging, eyes wide with his shock. The Joker used the time to draw a foot back and kick the commissioner's legs out from under him.

Head back thrown back and neck arched the Joker hissed, groaned, laughed, and rammed his side against the padded wall to pop his shoulder back into place. With that done deft fingers trembling from jammed nerves untied his other arm so that he could remove the oppressive jacket. By now Gordon had loosened the tie enough that he could breath, and he did, taking in deep, shaky gulps. The madman reached down with his right hand and offered the officer a little assistance.

Gordon looked disbelievingly at the outstretched fingers and palm, looked up with that same expression into the Joker's face.

On that face a small pout formed as if the clown was offended, offended that Gordon had decided not to accept his help.

Shoving away the ludicracy of the situation Gordon re-composed himself, reined in his anger and disbelief. He needed the madman's cooperation damn it all, despite the risks involved. This would be the first of many decisions to haunt his sleep in the coming days. He took the hand.

With a wide smile the Joker pulled the Commissioner to his feet, brushed off some imaginary dust from the front of his coat with the back of his hand. Behind the smile the wheels were turning. (Interesting responses, Co-missioner, interesting...) He released the officer and moved back around the table to his seat. He wanted to hear more about Batman, torturing the other man further would have to wait. (I wouldn't have trusted myself not to drop you. Maybe I should have, it would have been funny! That's another problem with the world today incidentally; people find it so hard to trust each other.) He looked across the table through the small window and out into the hall. Frightened guards looked back at him. (They're so slow tonight… where is the fool with the gun? Taking a piss?) He waved to them cheerfully, they responded not as happily by gaping and backing away from the door. (What is this? I can't be the only one in Arkham who tries to strangle their guests! That would be… that would be absolutely insane!)

Turning is mind back to the matter at hand he sat down, motioned for Gordon to do the same. "How long has the Bat been gone."

Gordon, seeing him sitting took his seat as well. "Possibly ten days. Given the circumstances of his comings and goings I didn't feel confident it was more than his usual business, until now."

The Joker tilted his head, his eyes narrowed speculatively. "Until now? What changed, what's your theory? Did he get tired of your giant-flashlight-leash? He might prefer, ah… a phone call."

Gordon was not amused, he held the Joker's gaze. "When I last saw him, this was ten days prior to tonight, he was going out into the narrows to continue the rescue efforts. There was a breakout of a bio-virus in Gotham and the narrows were hit particularly hard. Men are still going in and bringing people out, it was a crisis. I think he was infected in the narrows that night and unable to return."

"You didn't answer my question. Why do you think he's missing 'Now.'"

"An civilian found pieces of black heavy-grade armor for the wrist and shoulder in the narrows yesterday. They don't resemble anything I've ever seen, anywhere, except on Batman."

This news was immensely displeasing to the inmate, his hands fisted on the table."…Wait. You, you aren't making sense. You say, "I think he's sick in the narrows." I say "Why." You say, "because we found pieces of his armor." Oh I see! But I have to tell you Commissioner; if you think a virus strips a person as they infect them you could use a vacation yourself… Even I, even I haven't heard that one before. There's an open suit just down the hall." There was more than a bit of biting sarcasm, it hid unease. What out there, save himself, could do something like that to Bats?

Who the hell was moving in on his business!

Gordon remained unmoved by the tangent, hiding his own irritation. "The Narrows are dangerous at the best of times. It's possible that Batman was attacked and infected by the attacker, possibly someone he was trying to help. That would explain the armor. Or he could already have been sick, fallen from a roof, broke it off on the street. Anything could have happened to take that armor off."

"No… it couldn't. No it couldn't. That's high grade fiber weave and those pieces are re-enforced. That armor won't ever just, 'come off.' Do your homework." The Joker's shoulders had tightened again, and Gordon watched him carefully, prepared to move backwards.

He wished for the second time that night that he had his gun, but knowing the man before him it probably wouldn't do him much good.

The Joker continued, "Batman went into the narrows to rescue viral victims. The Narrows are infected. Most people can't hold their own in a fight with a stomach virus. I'm assuming this is worse than that, and… the best of the bat. This virus is treatable?"

Gordon nodded, "Yes, we have a low grade vaccine that prevents the worst of the symptoms."

"Then the Bat went in already immune to the brunt. He's at the top of his game, maybe. No one in the narrows attacked him while he was helping them; they weren't in the shape to. Someone from outside the Narrows could have tried, Maybe. Fallings not even worth thinking of. The only thing you're right about is that you've misplaced the caped crusader. Now…" His tongue slipped out, wet the side of his lips. "Why tell me?"

Gordon took a deeper breath. (And now we come to it. )
"Joker…"
(Because I know that you can find him, because you know him better than we do, because police policy is now to shoot him on sight, because I've got no other choice.)
"…Gotham needs Batman, even if she doesn't want to admit it. You've removed all my other options. Because of Harvey…"
(God damn you- you sick, sadistic clown.)

"…The Bat is a wanted fugitive to four counts of murder, three counts of kidnapping, bla, bla, bla… yes, I know." The clowns smile had twisted; it was both satisfied and amused. "He does keep me entertained, I didn't think Bats would take the blame for dear Harvey-harvey Dent's little brush with reality. That's going to haunt him for a bit, wouldn't you say? But back to me, Commissioner."

"You can find him." Gordon leaned forward.

"No I can't." The Joker mockingly leaned back.

"You can't..?" This wasn't an issue Gordon had imagined, the Joker couldn't find him? Wait… "You're lying!"

The clown sighed. "No really, I can't. See?" He motioned to the room, "I'm still on vacation."

Gordon closed his eyes, swallowed. "…What if you weren't?"

"…" The Joker leaned forward, reached out across the table and made a sudden grab for the other man's coat.

Gordon pulled back so quickly that he almost lost his seat, the joker cackled uproariously for a few moments as if he'd never seen anything so novel, giggled as the laughter subsided. "Why, Co-missioner…" His eyes captured the others mans, and held them. Despite his chuckles those eyes were like the blackness that hovers at the ends of all mans hopes. "…I think there's a little bit of potential hiding in you yet."