A/N: This took a little longer than intended, but here we are! This ended up being over 16k, so I broke it down and will upload the next one soon. Oh, and for anyone interested... I created a JokeSaku page on tumblr that has stories, moodboards, and fanart dedicated to this tiny ship. All work that isn't mine is posted with permission with links to the original artist/writer. I go by the same username on all sites for those who'd like to check it out. Thanks for all the love and support!
"Dammit…" Sakura stares at the filthy wall, mindlessly tapping her bare feet together on the mattress. With nothing to do in J-block as it is, she'd normally be sleeping right now. Apparently, not today... No rest for the wicked.
With the chaos brought on by the clown's antics, the asylum's been buzzing all night and long into the morning. That's natural, and she'd expect nothing less. Rounding up the unconscious prisoners is the easy part, but taking care of the rest? How are they going to make up for the gaping hole in staff when no one wants to work here, anyway? What's stopping this from getting out into the media? It's not a secret the facility's controversial. Dozens of reporters would love to get their hands on a juicy scoop.
With the Joker incarcerated and Batman missing, what headlines will grab the mass's attention? The D.A. busting a small string of drug dealers? Funding for schools? Someone trying and miserably failing to rob a bank? No one gives a shit about any of that in this city. They want criminals on the run, explosions, threats, high-profile murders.
'Joker really spoiled these people. They claim to want peace, yet relish hearing about devastation as long as it doesn't inconvenience their comfort.'
She eavesdropped on the guards the other day on the way to her 'therapy' session. Complaints about Gotham Times becoming dull, needing some spicing up. When the clown was wreaking havoc, everyone wanted it to stop, crying about how terrifying it is. Now that things are quieting down, they're bored…
'No happy medium, is there?'
A break-out in Arkham resulting in the deaths of prisoners and guards will really draw attention from every corner of Gotham. From politicians and reporters, to underlings waiting for their bosses to break-out. The deceased staff's family members will demand answers. That's the last thing Jeremiah wants. His integrity will be called into question. How the facility's run will be looked into and there's a multitude of things he doesn't want getting outside of these walls. Ones that may land him right into a straightjacket with the rest of the inmates.
'That's exactly where he belongs, even if the Great One himself hasn't realized it yet.'
Clicking her tongue, Sakura glares up at the ceiling in agitation. Solitary confinement is an entirely different ballgame compared to the rest of the asylum. No one to observe or talk to, very little space to move around, and worst of all… no sound.
That's the part that gets to her the most. The silence is deafening, driving the pinkette up a wall. Without any books or mad ramblings to keep her preoccupied, she's taken to following the auras throughout the building. Being locked-up doesn't mean she can't use all this extra time productively. There will come a point where everything will change. Someone will make a move in this stalemate she's found herself in, and when that happens…
'I'll go down, but it'll be swinging.'
It's around that time of the year when he makes his annual visits as a reminder not to get too comfortable. That's not a problem. How can she? Being incarcerated in a strange world with people completely out of their mind is more than enough to keep the pinkette on her toes, regardless if that bastard comes or not. It's not clear what part of this game he finds so tantalizing. Trudging up the past to cause her more pain? To rub in the difference in their social standing? It's all a big joke, isn't it? A skilled kunoichi of Konohagakure being imprisoned by people who couldn't pose a threat to even a genin. Humiliating… but still her own choice.
'These men and their jokes. They all think they're so damn funny.'
Reaching into the pocket of her jumpsuit, Sakura pulls out the two cards taken from under the clown's pillow last night. Jack of Spades and Queen of Hearts. Staring at the images, she snorts through her nose in amusement. What's the point of keeping these two separated from the rest? Looking for reason in the madman's actions seems laughable in itself. In the same token, there's always a motive behind everything he does, even if it's not apparent to others. Asking him isn't an option. He'll outright deny any suggestion, whether or not it's on the mark. Thinking of him as being sentimental in any sense is almost enough to make her giggle.
"Hahh… As if. That bastard." She whispers, closing her eyes. Shifting on the bed, the pinkette mindlessly rolls her head against the wall, trying to make sense of everything. Figuring out the others beneath this roof in a piece of cake. Joker is an entirely different story. The moment Sakura thinks she has her finger on something, he goes for the throat.
Literally.
"Hahaha…" Glancing down at the cards, a smile creeps across her lips. He knows and is positively livid.
It was late last night when his murderous intent spiked higher than she's ever felt before suddenly diminishing. That can only mean one thing. Joker realized she stole his 'precious possession' and went on a rampage, more than likely wanting to make his way to J-block. The guards outside of his cell must've had a field day. After dealing with the aftermath of a break-out, the last thing they needed is a mad clown going on the warpath. If Harleen's distress and anger are anything to go by, they probably knocked him unconscious.
If there's one thing gained from all this time in the asylum, it's that she's more in-tune with her senses and chakra manipulation. The pinkette's able to feel him several floors down in D-block. He's still angry, more than likely strapped to the bed, and plotting her murder once again. All over some cards… It's not the items themselves that have him all pissy, but what they might mean.
Sakura will know for sure soon enough. She had a very interesting conversation with His Holiness himself this morning, bright and early. Of course, that would happen. The staff wanted to know why her cell was empty, how the restraints came off, and all about the corpse lying on the floor. That's to be expected, and the pinkette was more than prepared for their questions. Four times since last night she had to recount every little detail. The only thing that surprised her is Jeremiah…
…
A door opens to a familiar room as a guard grips her bicep, making of a show of guiding the small woman along. A necessity for the top brass to witness they're able to do their job, unlike those on duty last night. After the smoke clears, there's no doubt some major changes will be implemented, including a change in the roster.
Green eyes wince at how white the room is, from the recently painted walls to the blaring bulbs in the ceiling. It's too much of a difference compared to the dreary blocks the inmates are accustomed to.
To make matters worse, the coats of the people sitting around a table are just as bright. Far too clean for a place like this. It just makes it abundantly clear they're not as 'hands-on' as they profess. The guards and orderlies do all the dirty work while they sit there, staring down the ridge of their noses at everyone else. Far too good and educated to get a smudge on their pristine clothes.
"Patient 0802… Please have a seat." Jeremiah knows Sakura despises being referred to by a number, yet does it anyway. She's a goddamn human being, not a product that needs a stock code. He's the one who claims the staff won't use their 'patient number' if they have their real name.
'Another narcissistic hypocrite, just like the clown.'
Drawing in a breath, the pinkette lets the guard move her towards the chair closest to the door. With a quick glance around the room, she notes everyone who's present before flopping down. The Emperor, his sidekick—Alyce, Harleen, Terry, a very pallid Derek, and a couple of guards that no one cares about.
'Is this necessary?'
Do they really need everyone and their mother assembled just for this? Doesn't Alyce have anything better to do than be a shadow? It's not like there wasn't a break-out last night and the asylum's a mess. She's always stuck to Jeremiah like glue. Guess that kind of work is beneath her.
"Patient 0802." Sakura can already feel the vein in her forehead throb. "We looked over the statements you gave the Head of Security… and Mr. Saito's." From her peripheral, the pinkette notices Terry staring at the floor, trying to avoid eye-contact from those sitting around the table. It doesn't take a genius to realize how nerve-wracking this must be for him. He's inexperienced as it is, without throwing in all that's happened. She's sympathetic towards his position, yet needs him to keep it together for now.
After all, Terry owes her.
Sakura could've easily kept walking instead of healing him. Nine times out of ten, the other inmates would've done the same or finished the job after toying with him. Fortunately for the guard, she's not like the rest. Despite what the last few years have done to her, she'll always be a medic. One that can't stand idly by and allow an innocent person to suffer for no reason.
She saved his life and avenged him by killing Sid, his attacker. Now, he needs to keep his end of the bargain.
"Okay? I assumed that's why I'm here…" Alyce narrows her gaze at the pinkette's sarcastic tone, ready to jump to Jeremiah's defense. He quickly raises a hand, effectively silencing his protégé. Opening and closing her mouth, the brunette bites her tongue and sits back in the chair. Everyone knows she won't defy the word of God.
"Yes, of course. I don't believe there's any reason for you to recount the events a fifth time as they line up perfectly with Mr. Saito's and the evidence from your previous cell in J-block. I'm sure you understand there will be consequences for actions, correct? This will have an impact your assessment, aside from the incident earlier this week." He's attempting to control his facial expression, but the sharp green eyes from across the table can see the corners of his mouth slightly curl up.
"Hn. That's perfectly fine… I expected no less from the board. I'm sure when contemplating my 'consequences', you'll take in mind the lives that could've been lost in Moxley's rampage from the staff's inability to properly control their patients. How the guards put my own and other's safety in danger from their misconduct. I could've been killed! How do you think my benefactor would react to that?" The older man's smirk quickly drops at her words, losing the little color it had as the blood drains from his face.
'I've got him by the balls now, just by mentioning that man.'
"Better question—How do you think his lawyers will react? Surely you understand there'd be an investigation. If he hears about what occurred last night… Well… Heh…" Sakura chuckles sweetly, watching the sweat forming on Jeremiah's brow. Now it's his turn to squirm, knowing what'll happen if he gets involved.
"Excuse me?!" Harleen smacks her hand against the table and stands up. Tearing her gaze away from the asylum's head, the pinkette stares at the angry doctor. The chains rattle under the table as she shifts against the chair, rubbing her gloved hands together.
"Sit down, Dr. Quinzel!" Hearing the older man raise his voice startles everyone in the room, especially the blonde. Turning away from the smug pinkette, she glances at her employer in shock. The tone by itself is a slap across the face and her expression gives it away, showing the hurt behind those weary blue eyes. This man is the one person she's constantly trying to prove her worth to, who can make or break the path she's chosen in Arkham. Most importantly, he decides if she continues to be Mr. J's psychiatrist.
Pursing her lips, Harleen draws in a sharp breath, trying to calm herself down. From a single glance, Sakura can see that she's becoming worn down. The shadows under her eyes prove the doctor's having difficulty sleeping, probably from fretting over patients and work. The protruding clavicles under her white cloak show the slim woman's lost weight over the last few weeks, which hasn't happened in the last year since coming into the asylum. The bright blonde hair twisted into a bun is slightly messy, no longer the meticulous up-do. Something has changed in Harleen and the pinkette has a pretty good idea of what it's from.
'Joker… He's getting to her. That blade for a tongue is sliding beneath the surface of her skin. I can see it clear as day. No wonder Jeremiah took over some sessions.'
"As you were saying, Miss Haruno." The asylum head pays no mind when Harleen drops back into her seat, visibly upset at the sudden lash.
'Now, it's Miss Haruno? How quickly things change when veiled threats are thrown into the air.'
"Ah. Where was I?" Tilting her head back, she feigns searching for the place where they left off. The longer she takes, the more on edge they become. The ball's in her court right now and the people staring at her know it. Whether her threats have truth to them doesn't matter. Jeremiah's not in the position to try his luck, especially with all that's already on his plate. The deaths of seven guards, nine patients, and a whirlwind of bullshit on the horizon. Does he really want to get on the bad side of a man that can have this entire facility closed down in a single day? The person who contributes as much, if not more, than Wayne Enterprises? The former has been dropping large sums for the last three years, while the other just started right before the clown was dragged in. Government funding and volunteer donation aren't enough to keep the asylum running.
"Yes… I think it's fair to say his company's generous funding comes with the promise of my care and safety. The judge may have ordered me to stay here, but there's nothing forcing him to keep filling your pockets. If I die, all of that disappears. If he finds out what happened last night, I'm sure a quick transfer to another facility would be easy for him to arrange and they'd be more than willing to accept his patronage."
From the expressions on the doctor's faces, that little tidbit hadn't crossed their minds. Jeremiah is so used to having all the control in his hands that he probably hasn't been shoved into a corner in a long time.
To be honest, this isn't Sakura's style. After three long years, not once has she ever used that man as a threat, even when the opportunity presented itself. Doing this is beneath her, yet sometimes people have to do things they don't like to get things done. It's not like she'd follow through with it anyway… The person she's using as a shield would be more than delighted to find out life in here is terrible.
He wants it that way.
The head of the asylum stares her down, ignoring the glasses sliding along the bridge of his nose. She can see the wheels turning in his head from looking into those beady eyes, knowing the older man is playing out various scenarios and outcomes. Weighing his options and the impact they may have on the facility. The longevity of the asylum is his primary goal, and for that to happen, money is a large factor. Every bit counts and there's too much going on without starting another battle.
'Come on… You know you don't need this shit, jiji. Ask me what I want already. I don't give a damn about the punishments. That's nothing.'
Sakura can feel Alyce burning a hole through her without glancing at the brunette. She agitatedly plays with the ribbons twisted through her dark locks, glancing between her employer and the woman he's scrutinizing. The room is silent as the words sink into people around the table, knowing the next move has to come from Jeremiah. He has the final say in what happens in this building and is completely on edge, ready to shut down anyone that tries to interrupt his internal debate.
Lacing his fingers together, the doctor leans forward with a heavy sigh, looking at the pinkette from over the top of his glasses. They both know that time of the year for her annual visit, which only makes this situation even more dire. With the loss of personnel and damages throughout the building, he will need help to fix this mess. That man can pull the strings necessary to make it happen.
"Very… interesting. I don't think I've quite seen this side of you, Miss Haruno. After everything that's happened over the last few years…" He trails off, throwing a knowing look when she squirms in her seat at the meaning behind those words. "You've never resorted to threats, thinly veiled or not. There's something you want. Enough that you're willing to put this facility and all its patients in jeopardy. Cocking his head to the side, Jeremiah's eyes narrow on the pinkette, watching her carefully. "What is it?"
'Finally… Took him long enough.'
"I want out of solitary. Let me go back to my old cell. The door is already fixed, so—"
"Absolutely not!" Harleen interjects, whirling around in the chair towards her employer. A handful of light blonde hair falls from her messy bun from the sudden movement. "Dr. Arkham, you can't humor these demands. Yes, we can agree that her actions might have saved a few lives, but that fact remains that she took some as well. I don't think it's in anyone's best interest to move her back to D-block. This is for her and my other patient's safety. The one she attacked in the intent to kill. He'll be placed back into the cell right across from her tomorrow and… This is just asking for trouble!"
'… Back in his cell tomorrow? Joker's definitely in D-Block right now. Does that mean he'll be in solitary soon? So… Did he act out last night, after all? What a moron. All over some damn cards. Actually, this gives me a great idea.'
A smirk plays across Sakura's lips at the thought. Ideas form in her head about what to do next. It's been a while since she's really flexed her chakra muscles. This might even wipe the smug look right off that bastard's face.
Apparently, the young doctor thinks the small smile is for her. "Do you think this is funny? Dr. Ark—"
"Everyone out. Now." The commanding tone is his voice leaves no room for question, even as the women on either side of him protest. To the pinkette, it's nothing more than buzzing in the background. Inconsequential and nothing more than a waste of time.
Harleen's visibly exhausted, yet still has enough in the reserves to get riled up over Mr. J. After observing her for the last year, there's no shadow of a doubt about the changes taking place in the blonde's personality. The impressive level of patience she's always exhumed is waning thin and the internal struggle finally beginning to surface. Instead of trying to keep a level-head and listening to the top brass, the young doctor is speaking out, even to the man she's so hellbent on proving herself to. Just a few months ago, she would've been too self-aware to interrupt the head of the asylum, let alone have an outburst.
'Even since Bozo was dragged in, she began changing… Slowly but surely. The person hiding behind all those pleasantries and fancy words is emerging. This will be interesting to watch. She just better stop getting in the way.'
Reluctantly, those others get up to leave. It's a simple task to ignore the expressions of those filing past. Looks of 'don't you fucking dare try something' and 'you'll have a bullet in your head before getting around the table'. Reading them is easier than the medical books littering her old cell's floor. They don't have to say anything. It's as if the staff's thoughts take the shape of words in their eyes alone.
Alyce leans down toward her mentor, conversing in hushed voices on which guards to leave and where. After all, they know full well Sakura can get through bulletproof glass. Is leaving the head of their asylum in a room with such a person a good idea? It doesn't really matter. If she wanted to go on a rampage, this entire building would've been demolished years ago along with everyone in it.
Whether they realize that isn't her problem.
Within a matter of minutes, the painfully white room is empty, save for the pinkette and Jeremiah. A handful of guards are stationed right outside the door, but there's no point. The doctor staring her down knows she has no intention of attacking him, regardless of the restraints being used. This is about striking a deal, one where they can both benefit from the outcome.
"First, I would like to apologize on my staff's behalf. As you know, much has happened since last night. Everyone's a bit… weary, so to speak. Losing coworkers and patients they're accustomed to seeing on a daily basis will have an impact on even the best professionals." The older man sighs, pushing the descending glassed up the bridge of his nose. "I think you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot quite a few times, yet I believe there's always been a sense of mutual respect between us. Am I correct in that assumption?"
The buzzing from the lights overhead fills the room as Sakura sits back in her chair, scrutinizing him. Mutual respect? That's almost enough to cause her to burst out laughing. This person has a sense of humor, just not the kind she appreciates. Everything's always hidden under an exterior of professionalism and honeyed words, yet she sees these people for what they are. Despite that, she slowly nods. It's not that she agrees with him. That's far from the truth. They probably won't ever see eye-to-eye, and that's fine as long as this turns in her favor. It's the only way to maneuver around here without causing a scene.
'To not draw attention…'
"My mission is to help every patient find rehabilitation. That's all I truly desire and the reason I took over this facility after my uncle. You were here during that last year and witnessed what happened. How everything spiraled downward. I can't allow history to repeat itself in any form. Last night showed me this asylum needs to take a step in the right direction to keep stability. I'm speaking to you in earnest, not as a doctor to a patient, but from a person who wants to cure others to a medic." Sakura's eyes narrow at his words, quickly reading between the lines and drinking them in.
In the beginning, when the translator mentioned she claimed to be a medic, they laughed it off as the ramblings of a mentally unstable woman. Since then, the pinkette refused to talk about it to anyone of authority, no matter which doctor tried bringing it up after going through her file from the court case. This is the first time anyone, let alone Jeremiah, acknowledged that, even if it's only to buy favor. While being an egomaniac, this man still understands that he'll need some aid to make his dreams come true.
"Believe it or not, I get what you're saying, Dr. Arkham. I listen and pay attention to everything. We both know the position the asylum's in and what it'll take to fix that. All I'm asking for is to go back to my old cell… and maybe a little time in the community room. I don't care about the assessment. I'm not getting approved, anyway. This is a win-win situation. I get what I want and your ambition continues to get funding. There's always the possibility of me putting in a good word to get more, you know…" A crooked grin passes across the pinkette's face as she leans closer towards the table, arching a brow. Her words honestly hold little weight with money being involved, but he doesn't need to know that.
Jeremiah rubs his chin, contemplating her offer. The man is known by those who've been here for years to try covering up incidences that occur in the facility. Anything that might make him look bad to the public or cause the asylum to be shutdown. That hasn't stopped staff from speaking out from time to time, but those voices are quickly silenced. This entire place is a farce, and a cesspool filled with the worst this city has to offer. It only continues to stand because Blackgate is ill-equipped to handle the job.
"Interesting proposition, Miss Haruno… As much as I despise saying this, sometimes we have to overlook certain things to reach progress, even if it's against everything we stand for. This facility has its hands full, and what happened earlier this week is the least of our problems. Perhaps you and I can reach an agreement of sorts… On one condition." Seeing the smile on his face causes the pinkette to feel wary of him. Whatever he has in mind can't be anything good. At least for her.
"And that is?" Tapping her foot against the tiled floor, Sakura doesn't like where this is going. Whatever he wants won't be anything she can't handle, but that doesn't mean it won't be a bother.
"I was looking over your files the other day… Physical performed by the nurses, blood work, charts, etc. You have quite a unique constitution, to say the least." Placing his hands against the table, the older man pushes the glasses up further. The light from above reflects off the lenses, making it hard to see the eyes behind them. Unfortunately, Sakura can and has an inkling of where this is going.
"I find it very intriguing."
…..
'So… Jeremiah wants to use me as a guinea pig in his little experiments. That's what he was alluding to.'
Those exact words didn't have to come out for her to understand the meaning behind them. Why else would he be so interested in how her body works? There's no doubt this man's preparing to take his 'treatments' to the next level. There's a good possibility he's scouring all the patient's files to find inmates with strong constitutions that might be able to endure whatever's being planned.
Jeremiah is following in Amadeus's footsteps, whether he realizes it or not. Perhaps it's all intentional, and he wants to continue where his uncle left off before the mental instability derailed any progress.
'Shit… This is bad. The same thing will happen as last time. I was healing the clown after his treatments, so they might think his body can endure more than it can. The staff also despises him. Will he be chosen as well?'
Glancing at the cards in her hand, Sakura can't help feeling frustrated. The more things get out of control in the asylum, the closer Jeremiah is to losing his shit. Joker is the reason for the chaos that's pushing everyone to their limits, even if she's the only one that truly knows about it. Killing him is the easiest solution to calm the storm that's brewing. Eliminating the clown will allow the staff to stabilize the entire building and regroup.
Back in Konohagakure, if a shinobi put the village at risk, along with all its people… They were taken care of discretely, if possible.
'What should I do?'
This isn't a simple choice. On one hand, Joker is a menace and deserves whatever comes his way. The man relishes causing havoc in every form, with no intention of stopping soon. Even if he might've had a terrible past, that doesn't excuse the terrible acts he commits. On the other hand… Jeremiah will inevitably go down a similar route as Amadeus. It's been clear to the pinkette for a while now. Not only that, but if she kills the clown, everyone will point fingers at her after what happened earlier in the week. Plus, there's Harleen…
"I don't think of you like that at all. There are no stupid ideals I want to push onto you. I like the monster you already are... Don't want to change any of it. I know what we both are and so do you... We're not the good guys in this story."
'Did I really mean that? That bastard tried to kill me a few times now and probably will again. Why am I doing this to myself? All he plans on doing is using my abilities to cause trouble, even if there might be something else there. He'll never admit it... Why do I always find these assholes that treat me like shit?!'
"Arghh!" Tossing the cards onto the bed, Sakura growls out in annoyance, kicking her feet around the messy sheets. No option feels right and everything's going to shit regardless of what she does. Destroying the entire place will get rid of all those pesky problems just to draw an even bigger one into the fold.
Keeping Joker alive will only bring pain and misfortune to everyone… including her.
'I don't want to kill him. What would Tsunade-sama do in this predicament? I don't need to have any more regrets.'
That's an easy one. She'd smash him into dust the first time he tried anything. Then again, her shishou admitted during one of her sake binges to putting everything on the line just at the prospect of Orochimaru bringing her loved ones back.
'Loved ones…'
Trying to shake the thoughts from her head, the pinkette bits down hard into her lip. No, she doesn't carry those kinds of feelings anymore… especially towards Joker, of all people. That died long ago after waking up in Gotham. She doesn't know what to call this 'thing' that's going on between them. Ending him will stop it in its tracks, but is that what she really wants? Just to prolong the inevitable downfall of Arkham? All her life, she's always been at the mercy of other's whims and emotions. Sitting by idly won't change anything. If the world falls apart again, at least this time it might turn out differently.
"Hmm?" Pushing herself from against the wall, Sakura quirks a brow towards the door. That man… Terry. The young guard has been pacing back and forth for some time now, stopping right outside every so often. Is it time? What the hell is he waiting for?
Even if she yells out, he probably won't hear a thing without opening the slot. Just another wonderful part about being in solitary. There has to be some kind of law against that. If a patient genuinely needs help, their shouts fall on deaf ears, unless they bang on the door itself.
Even then…
A small click and the handle turns, causing the pinkette's lips to curl into a smile. It must be time now. If the clown can have a little fun, why can't she?
A slim man slips into the room, weary and stressed. Quickly closing the door, he lets out a relieved breath, trying to regain his composure. Compared to yesterday morning, there's a difference in Terry. The bright aura that engulfed him has dimmed ever so slightly from the previous night. It's easy to feel a sense of comfort when the animals at the zoo are barred in, but when they get out… Their true nature is terrifying, especially to those who've never ventured into the wild.
'The poor kid didn't even see Sid coming, let alone realized what happened until it was too late. That little bastard was pretty fast for someone from this dimension. There are a lot of strange people here.'
"Um… It's, ah—It's 10 now." Terry mutters, looking at the floor. With Harold gone, the pinkette needs another staff member to assist in maneuvering around the facility and this one will do just fine. Despite the uncanny resemblance to Neji, there are other reasons he'll make a suitable replacement. There's no underlying intent that she can see, and he'll keep his mouth shut. Whether it's out of gratitude for saving his life or fear, neither really matters. Getting the job done is what's important.
"Perfect. Yosef isn't in today, right?" Pushing up off the bed, Sakura tries to resist chuckling when the younger man jolts at the quick movement.
"Y-Yeah… Janelle called him, but didn't get an answer." His brow furrows at the question, not understanding what she's getting at. There's no way he possibly could. Not without witnessing it firsthand.
With the asylum up to their neck in shit, no one will too worried about keeping an eye on the staff. They're more concerned with cleaning up and dealing with the inmates caught up in the chaos. Whenever there's an uprising, the others act out from feeling empowered. It flows through the air like an electrical current, jump-starting those who became stagnant in confinement.
"Okay. We're going on a little walk." With a grin, she clasps her hands together to form the familiar seals.
'Dog — Boar — Ram.'
"What are you doing?" Taking a step back, the younger man looks startled as Sakura closes her eyes, focusing her chakra.
'Henge no Justu!'
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Terry screams, dropping to the floor.
Glaring up at the lights on the ceiling, Joker works his jaw around in agitation. The straps of the gurney dig into his sides, making it difficult to even draw in a deep breath. He wants to huff, spit, curse, flail… Anything to release the rage festering inside of him. It forever lingers in wait for the right moment, but this time it's about to boil over, melting everyone in its path.
'That bitch is gonna get it this time. For real. No more playing games. Wait till I get upstairs, witch.'
"What's wrong, clown?" His ears perk up at the voice. One of the newer guards leans over the side of the gurney, arching a brow. A Middle-Eastern man who recently started working here. Placing a name with the face is an inconvenience. All the staff are equally scummy and nothing more than entertainment. Unfortunately, he's not in the mood for humor.
Nope.
"What's that on your head, boy? Someone clock you good?" A smile slides across the man's face from eyeing the dark, swollen lump on the clown's forehead. A small price for acting out last night, but one that paid off.
"Shut the fuck up. Call me 'boy' again and I'll rip your spine out with my teeth." Joker can do it too. Just because he can't go through with the threat at this very moment, that doesn't mean he won't. The list in his mind is still long, yet there's still room for more names.
"I thought you'd have a better comeback than that, clown. I'm disappointed." The guard shakes his head and turns away dismissively.
"Son of a bitch!" Snapping his jaw in anger, the entire gurney shakes as he fights against the restraints, wanting to bathe himself in the man's blood. Sweat trails down the sides of his face into the dirty blond mess around his head from the effort. It's hard enough trying to breathe from the straps restricting his lungs from expanding without throwing a fit.
'That asshole… He's next. Talks just like the goddamn witch!'
As they round the next corner, Joker tries to even out his breathing. He's not doing himself any favors by freaking out now. No… Staying calm and collected is the best bet to get shit done. After all, he didn't go through that last night for nothing.
His lips curl up into a sneer from feeling the object in the jumpsuit's sleeve. Yeah, getting a little beaten up was worth it. Harley is such a doll to open up the glass doors to calm him down. The guards didn't like that or when he grabbed her, quickly sliding a hand into the blonde's coat pocket to steal a pen. A late-night date with their nightsticks and spending the rest of today in solitary are a fine exchange in his opinion. It might seem like nothing to most, yet in his hands… even a pen is a deadly weapon.
'Later tonight, I'll make my way upstairs. I'm gonna strangle that bitch and get my stuff back.'
The thought is enough to settle him down, finally laying back against the cold metal to relax. Keeping his wits together is more important at the moment than falling for the taunts of rodents. The one guard's acting too familiar for someone that's never dealt with him. Then again, all the staff already know the deal. Instead of doing their jobs, those morons spend too much time chit-chatting about the inmates.
"Hahaha!" The sudden laughter causes the young Asian guard to jump out of his skin and away from the gurney.
"What are you doing? The clown's strapped in. Calm down…" The previous asshole snaps, turning to glare at Joker. The chuckling dies down from the look on the guard's face. Frightening the staff with his random burst of hysterics is always the fun part of being escorted around the building. It's scraping the bottom of the barrel for some entertainment, but it's better than nothing. And yet… This guy didn't even flinch. That's unusual for a person who's never dealt with him before, especially one that recently started working here.
'I don't like this douchebag. Something about him doesn't feel right, but I can't put my finger on it.'
The dark pit in his sockets narrow on the man, taking in his features. He's seen this guard a few times on the way to his sessions with ol' Jerry. There's definitely a change in him. What is it? Did one breakout give him an extra set of balls? An extra layer of thick skin? When the hell did newbies get so mouthy?
Reaching the next hall that leads to Jerry's dungeon, the clown's brow furrows when they take a right instead of a left. Trying to crane his neck up to see what's going on, one of the straps pushes against his larynx, causing him to give up on the pointless action.
"I know ya aren't the sharpest knives in the drawer, but we're missing my, uh, execution. I'm sure Mr. Top Brass is counting down the second-s." When the guards don't respond or even glance down at him, the clown stares at the ceiling in irritation. Disrespect, insults, now they're ignoring him? What's with these guys? At least Harold would've smacked him.
The walls meld into a dingier version, showing they're heading into one of the older halls. A part of the asylum left untouched by the recent influx of funding and abandoned by the staff after the new regime took over.
'Why the hell are we going here?'
Pushing his head back up and ignoring the straps, dark eyes dart around when only one guard's left pulling the gurney.
"Where's the other guy?" It comes out mindlessly instead of staying in as a fleeting thought, causing him to bite his own tongue in punishment. The taste of iron in his mouth helps to gather the scattered fragments in his mind, knowing he needs to stay alert. If he's being dragged to this part of the building, it can only mean one of two things. The guard either plans on beating him to a bloody pulp or they will do anyway with him altogether. This man isn't involved with his goon employed here, so it's nothing good. Unless another inmate is pulling strings and wants somewhere private to talk.
'Doesn't matter. Someone's about to be hurt. Bad. Now that we're away from prying eyes, it's a free-for-all.'
"Well… Since we're taking a detour, why dontcha drag me up to J-block? Hmm?" Smacking his lips together, the muscle in his cheek jumps when the Middle Eastern man looks down at him. It doesn't hurt to ask since someone already doesn't give a damn about breaking the rules. A little road trip won't hurt anyone… except for Sakura.
The clown's been itching to get up there from the moment he woke up from that shitty dream. All because of Harleen and that screechy voice yelling outside his cell. It was tempting to snap her neck the second his hands were on her, especially when she leaned into him. Trying to resist his violent nature is a real struggle, but not impossible. He prides himself on having better self-control than most of the animals in this shithole. There's no punchline in ending the doctor that way. Too soon… and there's still much to do. She'll come in handy and has been useful so far. No one in the entire building is ready to fawn over and defend his name the way she will.
It's hilarious.
"J-block, huh? What, you want to go see your girlfriend up there? Get your cards back?" Joker's blood runs cold at the nasty chuckle echoing around him as the gurney's pulled into an abandoned room. The blood vessels in his dark eyes strain at the grinning face at the end of the metal table being wheeled around.
Ruined lips move instinctively, but nothing comes out. A sharp inhale causes the straps to dig into his chest further, but he needs the pain to think. Teeth tear into the corded scar tissue lining his mouth, filling it with blood that runs down his throat.
'What… did he… just say?!'
A thought finally surfaces through the fog clouding his mind. He barely registers the guard moving to stand alongside the gurney, right next to him. The words pierce his brain like a railroad spike shifting around, turning his brain into a scrambled mess. They're on repeat, echoing through the clown's mind and bouncing along the walls of his skull.
Joker's skin heats as if doused with a pot of boiling water, scalding the restrained body beneath the jumpsuit. An amused giggle breaks the silence in the room, but it falls on deaf ears. The blood surging through his veins and thundering from the hollow cavity in his chest are the only sounds he picks up on.
Rage… Pure, unadulterated rage seeps every crevice of his being.
"… your girlfriend… cards back…"
The surroundings are a deep red as his dilated eyes dart back and forth, trying to find a semblance of rationale. This man… He only could've known about the cards if Sakura mentioned them. She's not the type to run off at the mouth. At least, that's what Joker thought. There's no other explanation for any soul to have that kind of information. To make matters worse, it had to be done intentionally. Someone like her is far too strong to have it dragged out, even through torture. The pinkette can use that green magic to fix everything, then laugh at their feeble attempts.
The same way she does to him.
Why would she even be talking to this piece of shit in the first place? He's utterly useless and inept at his job. That trash isn't even worth manipulating, let alone wasting any of her time on.
The clown doesn't know what makes him angriest out this. The insults and disrespect, having her theft thrown in his face, anyone even knowing about the cards, that she's being a little slut around the asylum, knocking him out last night, or that she's being called his 'girlfriend'. It's all enough to send him on a killing spree, and this man's the perfect place to start. Then he'll go to J-block to confront that whore. A small part of him thought she might've been better than this, but time and time again, she enjoys proving him wrong. Screw the consequences. He's tired of dancing to these fool's tune.
"Aww. C'mon! Don't make that face. Relax clown, I didn't bring you here to fight." Distantly, he feels the restraint on his right arm being loosened as the guard works the buckle. Those words sound too much like the witch. Enough that it's sending him reeling.
Grinding his teeth, Joker turns his head to glare at the man leaning over and humming while removing the strap. All he needs is the one arm free, then it's a wrap.
"I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. You know, in private." The Middle Eastern man drops the restraint, letting it dangle from the side of the gurney. Dark eyes tear away to look down, seeing that his limb can move from the damned contraption. Shaking his arm, the pen slides down the orange sleeve, enough for his fingers to wrap around the weapon in a crushing grip.
The moment the guard glances towards the next buckle, Joker clenches his jaw and lunges up, taking advantage of the small amount of leeway presented. The tip of Harleen's pen pierces the side of the man's neck, digging deep into his tan skin. Using as much strength as he can muster, the clown growls out, letting his anger take over. He demands to see blood, hear screams, watch dull eyes roll into the back of his head as the life drains from his body.
"Kuhh!" A strangled noise leaves the guard's mouth when the crimson fluids run down the front of his uniform. Fingers coil around the offending wrist gripping the pen, holding on tight as Joker tries to push it in further. He can barely lift either shoulder off the gurney, but the strength in his straining muscles is enough to finish it.
"That's what you get, fucker!" A loud cackle fills the room from watching the dark eyes above him turn into saucers. Shock… That's the emotion he wanted to see, yet there's something missing.
Fear.
The hand on his wrist quickly tightens, slamming it down against the metal slab and shattering the bones in its ferocious grip. Searing pain shoots from his fingers, making its way through the entirety of his body as the cracking sound in the air finally registers. A scream builds up, ready to spill out over everything.
Nothing comes out from his ruined lips, even when his jaw's pried open from the anguish. Pain has always been a lifelong companion. One that walks side by side with him through the long nights and grueling days. A familiar face in a strange world…
"FUCK!" Sirens blare through his head causing the clown to become disoriented. The room starts spinning, turning into a whirlwind of colors. Shades of gray and orange, dancing in his dark eyes, spiraling into a strange array with the brick wall.
His arm… It's completely broken. Not just the wrist, but all the way up to his shoulder. A bunch of shattered bone fragments encased in tan skin, with bits of veins and muscles mixed into the mess.
"God—Goddammit! You're such an asshole!" A voice flutters into his ear, one that's almost as familiar as pain itself. Yes, he knows that sound, but it shouldn't be here. It can't be… She's far from him right now. Maybe he's already lost consciousness and is floating through a dream. That's the only reasonable explanation for hearing that angry hiss. It never makes sense to him why his mind always chases after that woman, even when she's the last person he wants to think about.
It comes again, this time louder and angrier than the last, enough to pull his eyes back into focus. The rage her voice elicits is enough to override the pain, to bring him back to the present.
'What?!'
Joker blinks hard, not sure if he's actually conscious or not because what he's seeing makes no sense.
The guard's bleeding profusely, glaring down at him with a murderous expression. Reaching up, the fingers that shattered an entire arm gingerly grasp the pen, yanking it out of his neck. Blood sprays down the front of the uniform from the quick action as he stumbles back, wheezing and trying to catch a breath. Backing up against a wall, the man's head lulls forward as a puff of smoke engulfs him.
The clown's eyes fly open when Sakura's in his place, dropping to the floor in her orange jumpsuit. A small hand clutches her neck, the spot he stabbed a pen into. Blood runs between the pale fingers cradling the wound, trying to stop the flow.
This has to be some fucked up nightmare.
That's what he keeps repeating to himself, yet the pain rolling through him says otherwise. It's electrifying, far worse than anything this asylum could ever attempt. The shock of what he'd just seen is enough to keep his mind from spiraling down the rabbit hole he's always reveled in.
A green glow surrounds the weary pinkette's hand and neck, wasting no time in trying to mend the injury that should've killed most. Can she heal one that serious? Or is it an attempt to fix as much damage as possible?
"S-Sakura." The word comes out is a rasp, sounding unfamiliar to his own ears. If part of his body wasn't shattered, the room would be filled with curses and screams, demanding to know what happened… If this is even real… Why did she do this? What if he plunged that pen through her socket? Can that be healed, too? How can she take on the form of others?
"You… You're a bastard…" Tired green eyes glare at him from the wall, still holding on to her neck.
"I—" The gurney pulls backward, jolting the clown to reality. Right away, his head whips back to see the young Asian guard gripping the font end and wheeling him around. Struggling against the restraints, he realizes the broken arms in its former restraint.
Within seconds, the pinkette's form disappears as he's dragged through the doorway, back into the dilapidated hall. Trying to flail intensified the agony, causing little white lights to erupt in front of his eyes.
"Wait! What the fuck are ya doing?!" There's no way he didn't see Sakura against the wall. He's the one who came with the pinkette and must've been in on this. Is he just going to leave her like that? What if that magic only goes so far, and she dies?
'On the floor… like a dog.'
Joker can't think straight or grasp what's going on. All he knows is that he's being wheeled to Jerry's room to be electrocuted with a smashed arm while Sakura bleeds out down the hall.
"Stop, ya fucking idiot!" The clown doesn't care anymore. If all he can do it spit and scream, then the entire wing can hear it.
"Sorry, no can do. Just following orders…" The guard ignores the man foaming at the mouth and snapping his jaw, quickly pushing the gurney around the corner.
The familiar route towards the room where Jeremiah performs his electroconvulsive therapy sessions.