Title: One More Chance
Series: Multi chaptered
Characters: Batman, Joker, various
Setting: Post Crisis 1985
Rating: M for language and violence
Feedback: Please and appreciated
Archive: Yes, just let me know
Flames: Only good for cooking outdoors. Personal vendetta emails and death threats can be sent to my email in a pretty purple package.
Silvia was on her nightshift for the fourth time this week but it was the first time that she had been serving on the area the rest of the staff designated Hell. This was where Arkham kept all its exotic pets and only this week did they finally retrieve their most prized possession. Silvia had a sister who worked at a zoo and was responsible for feeding the large cats. As she got closer to room designated 0801, she more or less wished that she could switch jobs. A security guard who ran the entire West wing of the asylum checked her card and let her in. The asylum had been understaffed due to economic problems and a lot of its most prized doctors had to be let go so now the lower order of the chain had to be responsible for doing their jobs. It was done because of 'budget cut backs'.
Silvia entered the room with a plate full of that day's meal from the asylum cafeteria: boiled fish, potatoes and gravy and pudding.
"Mr. Joker?" She said in a heavy Spanish accent. The room was absolutely dark save for the white light from the little creak that qualified as a window. The room was awfully quiet except for some faint breathing. She turned to the direction of the noise.
The clown was sitting Indian style at the corner of his bed, staring blankly ahead. The nurse approached with some caution. She did want to give off any hint of herself being intimidated. Besides, the guard was out there and he had a weapon that could brandish ten thousand volts if necessary.
"You need to eat, Mister Joker, you are looking very thin," she said in a friendly manner. She had some confidence knowing that the clown was applied with a veritable cocktail of sedatives which would calm his nerves.
He was also chained up and was allowed movement only half an hour a day and the person responsible for THAT job would not be there to work for a few hours.
She set down the meal and placed it in front of the clown. It was like making an offering to a bloodthirsty god in ancient Mexico.
"Well, Mister Robles will be here later tonight so you can move around to do your exercises, okay?" she said in a warm fashion. Alonzo Robles was a three hundred pound wall of muscle. Joker was a squirrel compared to that elephant of a man.
Just as she turned around to turn the hinge of the door, she was greeted with an arsenic laced voice.
"Before you leave, Silvia, can I ask you, did you see Mr. Robles this morning or this week for that matter?"
The notion of the clown communicating with her was like watching a circus on a bad acid trip. She held onto the door, confident that she was several feet away from him and that Tiny, the guard that was on the other side, ready to strike.
"No, no I did not…" she said as she slowly wound up the hinge, hoping to herself that the clown would get the message.
"I suggest that you look over there. You might find something worthy of your interest…"
"I-I better get back to work, Mister Joker, I cannot stay here because I am not allowed to."
"
Please, just do me the favor…." The Joker purred. His eyes were tinted with a hint of desperation but also of pushiness.
It was at that point that Silvia saw a bloodied hand on top of one of the crates with a set of keys and she let out a scream.
Her few seconds of distraction were the nail to the coffin as she felt the clown's forehead hit hers and that's when he made a run for it. With the seeming lightning speed of a cheetah, Joker ran down the halls of the asylum corridors. He knew the place like the back of his hand and yet he could not help but notice that the place had gone under some construction and given a new makeover since the day of the explosion a few weeks back. The usual crevice or air chute that he would use were now gone. Everything that he had been used to was taken away.
This new asylum was like a labyrinth and he was the Minotaur. It was a cruel joke and somebody would pay.
Joker's mind raced at a thousand miles per hour, trying to come up with a possible new escape route. Some things remained while others were completely wiped out like an etch-a-sketch drawing. He noticed a group of doctors and guards, all armed heading towards his way. The clown ran the opposite way, cursing that he could not zig-zag the way he used to so that he might win this high speed chase. The jester knocked down medicine carts and threw dirty needles from their containers so that it would hinder his pursuers. They were better than marbles at this point.
At this point, the clown had lost his hunters. The bliss lasted only seconds before he would be knocked down to the floor due to his lack of focus in front of him.
The asylum employee was a large burly woman, about three hundred fifty pounds, middle aged and had the temper of a mother rhino to match. She grabbed the clown by the collar. Joker squirmed like a cat but she held him back by his scrawny neck and pants. She looked like Moose, Ventriloquist's new henchperson.
Joker bit the woman on her finger as she was adjusting his weight in her arms. She let out a scream she and responded with a jab to the back of his neck to momentarily knock him down. The clown may have had a legendary immune system but he was still human in body and a jab to the forehead was enough to stop him from causing anymore harm to her.
The clown woke up in a haze. His vision came into focus once again. The blur sharpened only to reveal a set of tables with cotton swabs, several sharp objects used to prodding as well as other devices that would make a patient feel more like an experiment to be worked on rather than an object of pity that should be cured. Joker saw the rhino woman and it was then that he noticed a younger doctor looking over him. She looked fairly young. Dark skin and black hair like a raven's.
"You caught him trying to escape?" she said in a notable foreign accent. She must be one of the new doctors.
"Yes, ma'am," the rhinoceros woman responded.
"Excellent job, Sasha," the attractive female doctor replied. She applied her gloved hands onto the clown's features. Joker growled and squirmed as she touched his face, cursing at her that he could not remove his hands from the tied up position they were in so that they could be on her neck instead.
"Be still, clown," the woman said in a firm manner as she applied the same treatment to his chin, holding him down as if he was a bratty child. Her hands were cold like the asylum floors, cold and uncaring.
Joker spat at the woman's face but he failed to do so because her mask which covered the lower half of her face protected her.
"Feisty one, aren't you Mister Joker?" the woman said snidely. "I take it that you do not play well with others, yes?"
"You would be to if you were constantly prodded and poked like an alien in Roswell you stupid cunt!" Joker barked back. The female doctor seemed unmoved by Joker's language. She turned to the one she called Sasha.
It was then that she noticed the clown's unhealthy complexion. Upon closer inspection of his neckline, she could tell that the Joker was infected with something and it was obvious that it was not taken care of. It was then that she turned around and concocted a mixture containing various antibiotics as well as a few things which looked like herbs into the medicine. She applied the shot into Joker's neck. Whatever it was, it would be taken care. She wanted the clown to be healthy but not out of doctoral concern.
"Did he have any weapons in his room that he could use from mundane objects? Staples from books? Sporks? Nail filings?..."
"No", the woman confirmed.
Although she was wearing a mask, one could see the snide smile that crossed the dark skinned doctor's countenance.
"Let us just make sure. He did quite a number on Mr. Robles and Miss Campos."
With that, Sasha undid the Joker's chains. He tried to kick but failed miserable when she was held back down by three other nurses who had the builds of African cape buffaloes.
Joker was turned onto his stomach and his pants were being pulled down. The doctors could not find any evidence of him brandishing weapons in his room so they had to improvise. Joker's legs were spread. His wrists were tied down to the makeshift bed.
Joker squirmed and let out a small yelp when he felt a cold instrument enter his backside. It was very large and wide from what he could tell. Joker tried to contain his pain in a straight laced countenance but failed to do so when he felt the tool push in deeper into his backside, violating him.
This was obviously not a regular prostate exam. His usual doctor was gentler in his approach but he still looked at the clown with disdain. This felt more like he was in Spanish Inquisition. He kind of wished that he was in front of Thomas de Torquemada instead of this devil woman. At least then he could lie and they might possibly stop.
"Hugo, check his mouth. We don't know if he is concocting a poison that requires warm temperatures," the female doctor warned.
"Yes, madam," the doctor responded.
The Joker grinned and bore it as these so called doctors continued with their 'examinations'.
"Turn up the TV will you, Ubu?" the woman ordered. "I don't want our patient attracting unwanted attention while we are here," the woman said coolly. The other nurses complied with her wishes.
Bruce tapped his pen on the desk nervously. His mind was distracted from the board room proceedings. Lucius Fox was talking about some sort of stimulus package for the company so that they would not have to cut off too many employees. It was when he got into the specifics and axioms did Bruce nod off and start thinking about the Joker and where he was. He could not save him immediately because he did not want anyone picking up anything out of the ordinary. He had already missed several meetings and get-togethers but he was paranoid now to the point that he feared his get out of jail free card which involved rich heiresses from green countries was running out.
"Bruce, are you okay?" Lucius Fox tapped Bruce on the shoulder. He had apparently dozed off.
"Oh, I'm, I'm sorry, Lucius. I'll get those papers for you tomorrow!" Bruce responded.
"I already have those papers, thank you and I am assuming that you'll miss this Saturday's fundraiser for the local orphanage, yes?"
It was like his stomach had a bull's eye painted on it and Lucius was right on the money.
"I'm, I'm afraid," Bruce groaned. Whether it was out of personal failure or physical strain, Lucius did not know.
"Bruce, is there something wrong?"
That was like asking the twenty thousand dollar question. He could easily tell Lucius all the sordid little details but chose not to untangle that ball of yarn.
"Nothing, nothing…."
"Bruce," the CEO said warmly. "Now, I don't mind running the company for you, that is why I am here. I don't mind staying up until two on weekdays dealing with others but as a friend, I am asking you for your help."
Lucius, dear Lucius. Columbia educated, top ten of his class. He was loyal, he was like family. His warm and caring self was rivaled by that of Alfred but he could not risk embarrassing himself in front of his own friend not matter how hard he presented that silver platter.
"I'm, I'm just tired…." Bruce said. Lucius could see a smokescreen.
"I know you are, that's why I am asking you to tell me what is going on. You missed the past ten of our board meetings and you still have not answered the fifty emails I forwarded to you."
Bruce felt that his world was crumbling down. He kicked himself for being so careless. He hoped that this sort of unsteadiness was limited to his keeping Joker under his wing and not seep into professional matters.
"I-I apologize, Lucius. I-I just can't sleep at night lately."
"I can see that. I caught you sleeping during our meetings a few times, I just chose to ignore it and be nice to the company's golden child. You want to go for a drink and maybe unwind? Whatever it is that is bothering you, Bruce, you're more than welcome to share with me and if you don't, that is okay too. I'm just a little concerned. You haven't been the same in the last month…."
Oh, god, it's been that long?
"I apologize, Lucius. I'll take you up on that drink," Bruce replied.
"There's that smile I miss!" Lucius responded. "Seriously, Bruce, if it involves you burying a dead body, I am here to help!"
"It's nothing like that," Bruce responded in kind.
"I am being sincere here, Bruce. You don't have to keep it in and I am not saying this because I worry about your professional performance but for your health as well. You're my friend, Bruce, not just my colleague."
Bruce returned the quote with a smile. Both men were headed out of the main doors.
"You really think that I killed someone, Lucius?"
"No, I don't think that Bruce, but what did I say about thinking of me as an idiot when I helped with all that special equipment you told me was for, what was it, training?"
It was then that as soon as they opened the door, both men were greeted by a swarm of paparazzi and reporters. Everyone from the Gotham Post to the Gotham Gazette and even TMZ were there. The flashing of lights and questions were coming at them like hornets.
"Mister Wayne! Mister Wayne! Is it true what they say about you and the heiress from Milan? Is she pregnant?"
"Mister Wayne! Will you donate to the stem cell research program at the abortion clinic?"
"Mister Wayne! Mister Wayne!"
"Mister Wayne! Mister Wayne! What do you think about the Joker's capture?"
Bruce turned his face at the source of the question.
"Excuse me?" Bruce responded.
"Dolly Madison from the Gotham Gossip column. We would like to know what you think about the Joker's recent capture…"
"I-I have nothing to say about the subject." Bruce counteracted, trying to maintain the red blush from forming.
"A very close source tells GG that the Joker has been caught at night screaming your name from his cell. Care to comment on that interesting bit of dish?"
Everyone's eyes were upon him. Even Lucius himself stared at Bruce with the utmost curiosity. Bruce was now treading the line between self denial and brutal honest. You might as well tell the truth, he thought.
"The Joker is a sick man. There is nothing I can do." Bruce responded. At that point, he began walking in the other direction, blocking out the paparazzi that bellowed more questions and comments in his direction.
The Joker is a sick man, there is nothing I can do
Whether Bruce realized it or not, Joker had caught the words coming out of Bruce's mouth at the very moment. KGOTH9 was set to the entertainment section and as he was being examined in his rectum, Joker heard the words that hurt him more than twenty knives being jammed into his heart.
The Joker is a sick man, there is nothing I can do.
The words echoed in his mind. There was no ambiguity. It was all black and white. As the 'medical team' was applying antiseptic and iodine to his wounds, the Joker blocked them all out and instead focus on the words Bruce had said about him on national television.
He was disposable. He was forgotten.
Bruce had rejected him and humiliated him on national television.
Joker was eventually brought back to his cell. He stared in a catatonic fashion ahead until the medical team was gone. It was then and only then did the clown finally process what Bruce had said about him and he broke down into fits of sobbing.
Bruce had lied to him
Bruce had used him.
Bruce had abandoned him and now Bruce had humiliated him in public.
He had been chewed up and spat out like bubblegum.
He is not coming back you pathetic fool! He used you up like a rubber and now look at you! Trash!
Please don't say that. He is working on a plan, yes, that's it. He is very resourceful.
If he was, then he would have been here before that whore gave you the royal treatment!
He is just taking his time, it's too delicate for him…..
What a load of horseshit! Now, you are starting to sound just like Harley…
Don't you dare compare me to her
Why, the truth hurts, doesn't it, Jack?
Please stop talking….
Why? The writing is on the wall, Bruce loved you and he dumped you like all the others. He finally got what he wanted and it took you three weeks to realize it!
Fuck you, clown
Oh like that is going to stop me. You know I am right Jack. I am the ugly truth that sprouts when the glossy pictures starts to rot from the mold. Take your rose colored glasses you twit! Batman is not coming back!
Batman?
Yes, remember him? We used to battle wits with him because his scope is so limited. We used to be partners you and I. That was until you got soft and let him in….
That was different, this is now. Bruce is not Batman
You keep telling yourself that sweetheart but I hope you remember that when that witch gives you another prostate exam with dirty tools. Even the Batman himself could not get rid of whatever it was that you had. What makes you think you're so special?
He told me! He told me so!
Just because he rode you like a pony? Please. What kind of adolescent mind set is that? We used to do that exact same thing and not just with Harley…
No, please, get out….
I am you, Jack, I am the devil inside. I am the bubble that pusses out of the tar pit reminding the world that I have life and is not just part of a giant muck of nothingness.
No, shut up. You are wrong.
No, it's you who is deluded, you fool. You fell into that trap with rose colored glasses and you fell for it and swallowed it up like a cherry soda.
The Joker went into a corner, blocking his ears from the imaginary noise he thought was invading his thought processes infecting him with a poisonous black bile he wanted to shoot out. It was perverting and corrupting his soul and at the same time, this pit of hell revealed a grain of truth.
If Batman did care for him, why was he taking so long? He knew about the treatment in Arkham and why was he taking his time?
It was because he was forgotten. Batman had tricked him with a blindfold and took advantage of that emotional weakness and trust.
Batman brought him back here.
The cold hard facts were there. Batman seduced him back at the cave, tricked him, used him and relieved himself of him. The final seal was his words on the television set.
Bruce had lied to him and Batman only carried out the words.
Joker closed his eyes, trying to imagine away the cold hard truth as it invaded his mind. It molded around his consciousness like a smelly, sticky soup that could not be removed. He wanted to get out of there but there was no way that he could wade in that mindset. There was only one alternative to get out of that.
Laughter
Yes, sweet laughter, a rich cacophony of sound that would chase the blues away and get rid of the negativity that flooded his brain.
"HA".
It was simple but effective. It was a friendly and inviting sound and like chips, you could not stop at one. Pain and suffering was not the answer to life's problems, laughter was. After all, did they not say that laughter is the best medicine?
"HA HA".
That was better. It was like relearning how to use the bicycle. He could feel the ugly black bile lessen in his mind. It did not hurt as much.
The Joker opened his mouth and let out a few more.
"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA."
Like music to his ears, Joker continued. He could not stop. This was better than therapy, this was better than drugs and this was certainly better than wallowing in sorrow.
Bunnies and guns. The JFK assassination. AIDS. All those things were the Three Stooges to him and he had just caught a rerun.
"HA HA HA HA HA."
Poverty. Starvation. Cancer. What a riot!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Rape. Abuse. Drugs. Gang warfare. STOP! I'll pee my pants!
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHOOHOOHOOHOOHOHOO!"
Please lemme know what you think. Thanks.