THROWAWAY CARD
Chapter 6
Disclaimer: Batman and related characters are the property of DC Comics.
Author's Note: I'm in the process of recruiting some very nice and helpful betas for this story - this chapter beta'd for me by the ever-helpful Spectral Sereda. Review Responses at the end of the chapter like before.
Extract from the diary of Ari Kelly, 32 years old, doctor of this parish:
"I hope this is gonna be tasteful, Batsy. I shall be disappointed in you if this turns out to be "Fetish Chicks with Swedish Babes". I'd expect you to be more kinky than that…"
The Joker laughs, that high-pitched raucous sound that has no real humour in it, and I feel all the hairs on the back of my neck rise. To the untrained eye he looks much recovered, but to me the warning signs are all there. He's running on adrenalin and willpower, but it can't sustain him. The pure energy that seems to make up his conscious nature is far too much of a drain on his battered body. He coughs, painfully, every couple of minutes.
I often wondered if Batman took Pro-plus or something to keep going night after night. I mean, I guess he's got a regular-guy life too, this costumed stuff can't pay well. But maybe he's always functioning like the Joker is now - the body managing to continue because the option of collapse is so abhorrent to the brain.
I sneak a look at the half-face under the cowl as I fumble at untangling the cables.
How long can anyone keep going like that? It's very bad for your health, both mental and physical. I should know, I went 56 hours without proper sleep once at med school studying for finals, and I was paranoid and hallucinating by the last hour or so. Is this what makes men dress up like bats and clowns and beat the hell out of each other with weird-ass gadgets all over town?
The knots in the cables on the VCR fall out in my hands. It took me less time than I'd expected to find a player and hook it up to the battered old TV screen in the corner of the room. Turns out the admin staff have a cushy little deal going on in their break room: VCR, radio, video games, the lot. Who knew? All we get is a few couches and a coffee machine.
My brain is working overtime trying to ignore the deep ache setting up in my half-strangled throat. The Joker seems intrigued by the whole situation: he's sitting cross-legged on his bed, his toes gripped in his white hands, rocking slightly with glee. The IV stand, which Batman has carefully stood upright again, rattles cheerfully with his movements. Possibly the sheer novelty of not being in Arkham is jazzing him up.
Batman remains at all times between me and the madman, as if it's second nature to him to do so. He gives the tape to me and I push it into the machine with a small flare of curiosity of my own.
It's a security log. There's a date and timer counting the seconds in the corner, and the texture of the pictures is ever so slightly grainy. It's also in black and white, and silent. The figure on the screen is instantly recognisable, however, monochrome or not.
"I do so love seeing quality programming on TV," says the genuine article, from his place on the bed. "Is there any popcorn? My, what a handsome devil."
This must be a log from Arkham. The Joker seems to warrant his own private camera, as most of the shots are of his sharp, distorted face as he paces a small, Spartan cell. Batman does not dignify any of his enemy's remarks with a response. He merely remains intent on the screen.
The Joker in the video seems to be holding a conversation with thin air: the illusion is broken after a few minutes as three people in medical smocks come into the cell, flanked by four guards with guns slung across their bodies and stun guns in their hands. I have to admit, even having experienced it firsthand for myself, I'm still a little shocked by the fear this man inspires. His physical statistics, leaving his considerable height aside, are uninspiring compared to the slabs of pure muscle dragging him around on the screen. But the Arkham doctors don't even approach him until the guards have him shackled wrist and ankle with restraints that look far more hefty than the single cuff dangling empty from my hospital bed frame. The guards, once they have the Joker cuffed and held securely between them, march him over to the doctors, where a brief (and judging from the expressions on the female doctor's face, unsatisfying) exchange of words goes on. He is then marched from the room and the tape cuts out.
"Yawn," says the Joker, sounding immensely unimpressed. "You could at least have bothered to film me in the shower."
The tape, having reached the end, is rewinding automatically. It reaches the beginning again, clicks, and auto-plays. The little scene repeats. Batman leans down to stare into his enemy's face.
"Thirty-seven minutes after this was recorded, you were out of Arkham. Why."
I notice he isn't bothering to ask how.
"Oh sweetheart," purrs the Joker with another huge, theatrical yawn, "who knows? The lure of the bright lights? Wanting to see one more ball game before I go to the big dugout in the sky? Or maybe I was coming home to see my childhood sweetheart Mary-Sue." He leans forward until his sharp white face is almost brushing the blackness of the cowl before him. "Batsy. Baby. In all the years we've been important to each other, have I ever needed a reason to escape from the old homestead?"
Batman makes no indication that this spurious outburst has affected him at all. He seems sunk in thought, and turns away from the grinning face to stare once again at the TV as it plays that sequence over and over. I find myself staring too as the tape whirrs, rewinds, plays again. I watch the Joker onscreen heckling his captors cheerfully as they restrain him. The real Joker behind me sighs with boredom, and I can feel his gaze sweep across me as he starts looking around the room. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle again in response to his careless scrutiny - an ancient response, my body's way of saying look, a predator! Hide, hide!
And then Batman, immobile for the last few minutes, straightens suddenly. "Stop. Rewind."
I jolt forward, guiltily, as it takes me a moment to realise he's talking to me. I hit the buttons on the remote, and the tape hums as it winds back.
Again we watch the Joker grinning and laughing at the guards as they manhandle his skinny body. The guards are all wearing eye protection as well as Kevlar. They look more like Wild Animal control than hospital security. Batman takes the remote from me and pauses the tape. "There."
I wish I could see what he is seeing. The paused image is of the Joker in mid-turn, his hands dragged up in front of him as he is bound. His shoulder blades push out the plain grey of his coverallsas he turns: his teeth flash, frozen by the pause button, in his predator's grin.
So what is Batman so intent on?
There is a sudden rattle from the IV stand. The Joker has moved forward on his hands and knees, his mad green eyes as intent as Batman's. Whatever it is, he's seen it too.
"Goddamnit!" he explodes, abruptly. He sounds utterly furious, and I flinch back from the bed instinctively. Batman turns, seeming to gain a foot in height as he leans toward the madman.
"Who did it, Joker?" he demands, but the Joker is oblivious with rage, the bed sheets knotted in his grip as he glares at the frozen picture on the TV.
"They darted me?"
Batman is obviously no more comfortable than I am with the madman's sudden shift of mood. He looms menacingly over the bed, cloak flaring out as he moves.
"Who?"
The crazy eyes glare up at me suddenly, not at Batman, but at me - and I'm caught like a rabbit in the oncoming headlights. Can't move. I can feel the sweat on my face going cold. "What do they take me for," demands the Joker of me, indignantly, "a criminal?"
And he laughs, merrily, at his own witticism. The laughter doesn't last, though. He breaks down, coughing hard, and my training drives me forward to check him as he drops over on his side, shuddering.
Batman is too late to stop me. The Joker's hand comes up as I bend down: he punches me square in the jaw. The shock of the blow is, luckily for me, far greater than the pain. My teeth ache from the impact, but the madman has little strength in him now. Giggling weakly, he rolls onto his back as Batman shoves me backwards with a single sweep of his arm and moves in to pin his enemy's spasming body.
Closer to the TV now, and rubbing my bruised face, I finally see what both of them were so worked up about. In the hollow of one of the Joker's shoulder blades as he turns in the grip of the guards is a tiny hypodermic dart. Minute. Far smaller and more precise than the hypo that must have made the subsequent hole in his neck. I wouldn't even have felt it go in, I'm sure, and I'm betting the Joker never felt its effects until it was far too late.
"The cameras went down for only a minute," I hear the Batman say in a low, threatening tone. "The last image of you they have, you're weaving like a drunk, alone in your cell. You could barely stand up straight. But they were so busy wondering how you did it this time and worrying about where you'd gone, they never gave it a second thought. And besides," and he leans his full weight down on his arms, the tinge of scorn in his voice strengthening briefly, "how could they ever really notice any aberrant behaviour in you?"
The Joker fights against the restraining hands. Useless.
"I don't think you know what happened."
The tape unpauses itself, starts to run its cycle all over again.
"I don't even think you know how you escaped."
There is a resounding thunk on the word "escaped" as the Joker's foot connects with Batman's midriff. Batman seems unmoved. Then the thrashing abruptly ceases: the Joker looks up and pouts at the cowled man.
"I…I went and escaped? Without inviting myself to watch?"
His face crumples in an immensely forlorn manner - a child who's just been told he slept all the way through Christmas. "Awww…but that's all the fun of it gone right there! It's like a cream pie with no cream…and no pie…and hey, wait a minute, it was pizza for lunch tomorrow! Darn. The best meal that crummy joint could offer and I couldn't even -"
A heavy gauntlet slams over his mouth. This provokes indignation and, inevitably, another coughing fit, a genuine one this time. Then Batman says something that surprises me…
"We're going to do this my way," he says firmly to the spluttering Joker, "or not at all."
The Joker takes three deep breaths in quick succession, which seems to buy him enough lung space to speak, and says, quite clearly and in a tone which almost sounds sane:
"I want revenge."
"You'll get it," says Batman, which I have to say doesn't comfort me any. "But you're going to do it my way."
His tone is irrefutable. The Joker watches his serious, intent expression for a whole twenty seconds, green eyes wide and innocent: then his face seems to split in that awful grin as he lolls his head back weakly and laughs, and laughs, and laughs…
Gotham Hospital, 4.22 a.m.
Well, thought Batman with a lingering curl of distaste hanging around his upper lip as he watched Doctor Kelly endeavour to fit a sling around the Joker's neck, at least someone's appreciating the irony.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Review Responses:
Robster72 - Heh, you're right. The Joker's never very good with the truth. But as you see, he's really having a few issues with his memory right now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Spectral Sereda - :KJ hugs: Well, you already knew what was going to happen here, didn't you:P I'm glad you agree with me - he IS like a car crash. A car crash in a Lambourgini factory. I hope you're up for betaing again.
giveGodtheglory- Thankyou very much! I'm glad you enjoying my Joker, I'm constantly worried that I will get him wrong. Hope you liked him in this chapter too!
Cyn Wraith - I'm pleased that my cliffhangers don't seem contrived. There isn't one in this chapter! I hope you enjoyed the dialogue here, and I promise there's more to come.
Nightmare1 - Hee, with the Joker, there's ALWAYS an opportunity for comic relief. I'm glad you picked out that quote, it was one I'm particularly fond of.
Meow - See? no cliffhanger this time! I'm really happy you liked the Joker's comments - well, they always make ME laugh. :)
Smeeel1716 - Thankyou very much! I hope you enjoyed this new chapter.
chewie-2006 - Thankyou! I'll keep writing as long as people keep reading.
Kelly Renee - Thankyou very much! I updated quite quickly I think. :)
Farthingale - :KJ squeaks, pounces and hugs: I never knew you had an FFnet account! Thankyou for leaving such a long and complimentary review. I assure you, anything that doesn't sound Jokerish is purely due to lack of talent on my part and probably not to the boy's mental state. oh yes, and "Je suis Puddle de la Goo." Like you haven't done that to me enough times with your YJG. I just hope I can continue to live up to your standards with this little tale of psychotic mass-murdering clowns and the hospitals they go to.