Hello! So yeah, another chapter, not as long as the other one but I really wanted to post it, so here it is XD.
Well one of the important bits of the story as now been shown! I hope you understand what I wrote and about what's happening. Feel free to ask if you don't, I'll explain :D!
Disclaimer: You know which characters are mine. Lol.
Enjoy!
The Joker looked up from his arm again as the door in front of him opened. He stopped picking at his wound and moved his arms to his lap.
There was a long silence after the two officers took there seats, and the Joker was getting restless.
"Well?" He said, his hand started picking at the gash on his arm again out of agitated boredom.
Harlow was also looking at Gordon, willing him to hurry up and say something, or he would.
Gordon thought about at how agitated both were becoming, they didn't know how similar they were, "Back to where we left off, why did you have the detonator if you didn't have anything to do with the building explosion?"
"Uh, these people threw it at me." The Joker said simply.
"… They threw it at you?" Gordon asked, he glanced Harlow, who rolled his eyes, obviously not believing the clown.
"Yeah, they told me to." The Joker couldn't believe he was actually answering the questions… Normally. He felt a headache coming on.
"I thought you didn't do what people told you?" Harlow said, ignoring the glare he got from his temporary partner.
"Reflex, and I wasn't just gonna let it hit me. Either way, that building was gonna blow, whether I wanted it to or not." The Joker lifted his arms onto the metal table and started to tap a random beat. That was when Harlow got a real good look at the red mush of Jokers arm. He felt good seeing the Joker like that, he deserved it anyway.
"What did they look like?" Gordon hoped that the Joker would continue cooperating, they were actually getting somewhere with this.
"You know, normal people, well sort of. They looked," he turned his head to the side, thinking of the right word, "Empty… Like the people you would fine in Arkham when they had given up on seeing the outside world again…" He gave both the officers grin. But on the inside the mere word sent shivers up his spine and fear in his chest, 'Oh Crane would have a field day.' He thought numbly.
Gordon looked at him when he mentioned Arkham, but continued with his questions.
The Joker inwardly sighed when more questions were thrown his way. But he answered them anyway, he didn't have the strength to argue, his headache being the main culprit.
In the less dense part of the Narrows, gathered in an abandoned apartment, three men sat scattered around the room. The youngest sat on a moth-eaten couch with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. The next, who was only slightly older than the first, sat at the dust covered table, drawing pictures on it with his fingers. The oldest, leaned on the counter in the kitchen, looking down at his feet.
A small sob broke the silence. JoJo, the one sat at the table, looked at Pipsqueak, over on the couch, with sympathy but carried on drawing dust pictures.
"Not so tough now, are ya?" Chuckles said but with no real emotion in it, although with a glare from JoJo, he quickly apologised.
"I…I…I don't…" Pipsqueak never finished his sentence as another sob ripped through him. JoJo stood and sat next to him but not actually touching, hoping it would give some comfort.
"You should go home, kid." The eldest said, glancing over at the two on the settee.
"I don't have one… And to hell with going back to that orphanage." He said half-angrily.
There was another stretch of awkward silence, but Chuckles spoke up again, changing the subject. "I knew the Boss was crazy, but really?" When no one answered, continued, "Something must have happened that night…"
"H-he seemed fine when he arrived…" Pipsqueak trailed off.
"No, he was injured." JoJo whispered.
"It was his arm, right? None of us missed it." Chuckles said.
"Yes but there was blood in his hair." JoJo said nothing more.
"So h-he had a head injury?" The youngest looked up at JoJo, who smiled at the correct answer.
"Makes sense, he did look like he was having a hard time standing up… And concentrating…" Chuckles looked over a JoJo, who looked in deep thought, "Is there something you're not telling us, JoJo?" Chuckles smirked, of course he knew something the others didn't and he won't tell unless he's certain.
"I'm still figuring something out…" He nodded.
Just then the door burst open and hit the wall with a loud bang. All of the clown henchmen jumped.
"Well, finally, I've been looking for you everywhere… Hey, what happened to you guys?"
"Bulldog? Wow, did you miss out on all of the 'excitement'." Chuckles said sarcastically.
"Where have you been?" Pipsqueak said quietly.
Bulldog shrugged, "It's not important, but what happened? Where's the Boss?"
"Well I dunno, he ran of dragging Squeaky's and Smiley's half dead bodies."
"What? Why?" He looked at all of the remaining clowns.
"He went berserk! Started attacking everyone a-a-and…" Pipsqueak pulled his legs closer to his chest.
"We dunno why, we thought he left."
"Damn," He walked over to Chuckles, "Is the kid ok? You'd think he'd be used to murder now. What happened?" He whispered.
"Despite it being people he knew, there was something different about the Boss."
"Why don't he just go home?"
"Apparently, don't have one."
Bulldog sighed; he turned to look at the two on the couch. Pipsqueak looked like he was asleep but his heavy, panicked breathing told another story. JoJo was staring into space.
"How did you escape?" Bulldog asked.
"We ran. What d'you think?"
Bulldog was about to retort when JoJo spoke up.
"It wasn't the Joker."
Everyone turned to him.
"Are you crazy? We saw what happened! We saw him!" Pipsqueak was almost in hysterics.
"Yeah, JoJo. What do you mean?" Chuckles walked into the living room, with Bulldog following suit.
JoJo looked up. "Trust me."
The Joker wasn't even listening any more; he just laid his head on his good hand, looking bored and tired. But inside, he was fighting off the worst headache on earth.
Harlow left but Gordon was positive he was looking through the one-way glass.
The Commissioner could see that he was not getting anything out of these questions and was about to give the clown a little time on his own but then he thought of something.
"Do you know what happened to two of your hench-men?"
That caught the attention of the Joker, who lifted his head up with a confused look on his face, "What?"
"We found two of your clowns murdered and left in two different places, did you know this?" He didn't want to go into great detail.
"It's not my problem but no, I didn't." He looked thoughtful, "I haven't checked on them in a while." He took a deep breath, the pain increased a bit.
"Right, ok… I'll be back." Gordon stood and exited the room.
The Joker sighed with relief, he felt his eyes getting heavier, he rubbed them but laid his head on his arms. Maybe if he slept, the pain would go away, he had began doubting how long he could last without shooting himself in the head.
'Pathetic.'
"Huh?" The Joker lifted his head up, expecting one of the stupid cops. Anyone would be stupid if they called the Joker pathetic. But instead he saw that he was still alone in the interrogation room. He turned to look behind him. 'I hope the police didn't notice anything. God, what's going on?'
'Look at you, worthless. Not even the police are scared of you now.'
The Jokers heart rate spiked uncomfortably. He made a very distressing conclusion: If you're alone in a room and you begin hearing voices, where are they most likely coming from? Your own head.
'No… No, no, nonono. That can't… This isn't…' The Joker gripped at the metallic surface of the table. He stood up abruptly, the metal clang of the chair echoed around the room as he pushed it back. He wanted out now.
'Even if you leave this room Joker, You won't be able to get rid of me.' The voice gave a chuckle, which sounded more like a growl.
"I DON'T CARE!" The Joker shouted, not even acknowledging that he screamed it out loud, and ran over to the heavy metal door and started kicking, punching and scratching at it, shouting at the idiots to let him out.
'Really? You think that's going to work? You're as useless as everyone thinks you are.'
"No-one thinks I'm useless, there too scared of me." The Joker growled out. He stopped attacking the door and stood there, panting heavily.
'You know who I mean.'
The Joker screamed and it sounded horribly animalistic, he stormed over to the other side of the room, pushed the table out of the way so it crashed into the wall, and picked up the chair. He put what strength he had left into throwing the seat at the double-sided glass, knowing there were people behind it. It left a beautiful pattern, very similar to a spider's web but the Joker didn't see it, he was in one of the corners, away from the door, huddled on the floor, trying to stop the pain and the taunts the voice was saying. His eyes had watered again but to hell if he was letting either the voice or the police see him cry. The were not going to best him.
On the other side of the glass, three guards stood looking at the prisoner with open mouths and disbelief in their eyes. They looked at each other, all silently asking the same question: What just happened?
"I'll go and get the Commissioner…" One of them said and ran from the room.