Chapter Seven: Through the Eyes of the Suicide King
The Joker and Bane would not sleep that night, both men's brains were alive with a frightening display of firing neurons. Their nerve endings danced within the rife possibilities within their brief, wordless meeting.
The next morning dawned for Gotham City with the rising of the sun.
Maureen drove her classically lined muscle car with the rumbling engine to Arkham and fought to keep a smile in place when Carl opened the door for her, meeting her as he was returning from a smoke break.
"Good morning Dr. Hightower, how was your evening?"
"Very quiet Carl and yours?" Maureen asked as she walked briskly towards the elevator.
"Me and the missus went to that new film bout that artist fella who chopped off his ear."
Maureen nodded and mumbled her appreciation for the film she'd also recently seen as she boarded the elevator.
As Maureen's morning was open with Bane maintaining his refusal to see her, across the facility in the long-term inmate wing, the Joker looked around his tossed room. He still hadn't uprighted anything that had fallen over after the techs turned everyone's rooms inside out in search of who was connected to the meth lab in the Asylum's kitchen.
He squatted down and pried at one of the loose tiles around his stainless-steel shitter and collected a hidden deck of playing cards. The Joker traced his thumb over the back of the worn playing cards, his father's last set of well-used playing cards.
The Joker shuffled the deck as he thought of watching his father holding the same cards as he played poker with some unsavory folks, men with wicked scars and lots of guns.
He watched his father die holding five of the cards, dying as he bluffed the kingpin with a seven and two.
The Joker had been a small child as he watched his father bleed to death before crawling across the dark, cigar-smoke filled room and collecting each card, wiping each one free of his father's blood on his dark slacks.
As he walked home in the rain, if he cried only he knew.
Only he knew if the wet drops rolling down his young face were cool raindrops or bitter, salty tears.
The Joker had all day to sit with his thoughts without having a session with Maureen.
While the Joker played card game after card game, sitting cross-legged in the center of his still messy cell, across the facility in her corner office, Maureen opened the door to Tommy McShane so he could tidy up and shred the box of papers she had collected.
As the day passed, turned into night and the sun again dawned for the employees and inmates of the sprawling facility, on the other side of Gotham City, the faction of men that had escaped being rounded up after Talia's failed plan to destroy the city, were making diabolical plans of their own.
They broke themselves up into four groups to move throughout Gotham City and find the breadcrumbs that would lead to their incarcerated god. One of the groups pulled together their nicest attire and sent one of the hardened men into the courthouse under the rouse of seeking papers for the defense counsel on the upcoming trial of the People of Gotham City versus Bane.
The fearsome man had a beautifully, disarming smile and was able to talk his way into gathering copious boxes of evidence from the chubby, fair-haired junior legal clerk with a famous father.
"Thanks," the gravelly-voiced man said with his arms loaded up with legal documents. "Thank you Lia Gordon," he purred and made the young girl blush to the roots of her hair as his eyes drank in her full tits as he read her name aloud from her plastic nametag.
Maureen noted the second day of Bane's refusal in his chart before Arnold arrived, earlier than ever, with the Joker for their scheduled session.
After the Joker was settled and Maureen had a freshly sharpened pencil in hand she spoke. "How do you imagine your life would look if you had succeeded in your plans for Gotham and the Batman?"
The Joker grinned, "do you think my answer will provide you some insight into the newly unmasked inmate?"
The Joker continued in Maureen's silence. "I saw him, but only for one moment, you don't have a strong enough cage to keep him in doctor. I'll bet for someone like you, he's quite the intricate puzzle to solve," he added with a wink.
Maureen kept the Joker on task for the rest of their session as across the facility, Bane pressed his face to the pane of glass, warmed by the sun, only seeing Maureen Hightower's blooming dahlias in her office window.
Bane kept his face smashed against the glass, never catching a view of Maureen as the office's lights were eventually extinguished.
That night, a well-paid guard was sent to deliver a playing card to Bane's cell, just slip it under the door in exchange for a stack of cash.
Bane retrieved the card from the chilly floor. A suicide king with the eyes cut out, a talk bubble formed from white out, tape and newspaper said. "Get Orca's new book of the month from the library cart tomorrow."
The third day dawned without incident and after Bane's lunch was delivered, he waited until there were no eyes in the hall when he cracked open Orca's new book of the month selection. Whatever book the syndicated Orca crooned about, in between giving away free cars, became the end all, be all, best literary work of all goddamn, motherfucking time.
Tucked inside the well-thumbed pages was a letter written in tiny green and red handwriting. All the letters formed were chains of meaningless gibberish. Bane settled the suicide king playing card at the start of the letter and began to read the actual message.
Bane continued to mechanically eat as he read each letter of the message aloud.
Bane focused on the letters as the fish sticks grew soggier in a pool of too bright a red of ketchup. Bane held the suicide king playing card up to the light before bringing it back to the letter and rereading the entire message in a low whisper as the cheese sauce underneath the floppy, flaccid macaroni noodles continued to coagulate.
"This confinement is temporary, your presence all but ensures that. I will provide further details, as the Orca speaks."
As Bane repeated the words, up in the corner office, Maureen blinked, startled when the Joker spoke moments after she'd locked the door.
"Tell me about the large, scarred man."
"How did you two cross paths again?" Maureen countered.
"I followed a different yellow brick road home."
Maureen nodded and didn't have to wait long for the Joker to pipe back up in her continued silence.
"He's the one who tried to destroy Gotham, the one the Batman sacrificed himself for to detonate the bomb?"
"The Batman's alive, he returned at one of Gordon's parades."
Maureen kept her smile suppressed as the Joker howled in fury when he learned the Batman still lived.
"Tell me about the scarred man I saw," the Joker pushed.
Maureen brushed her hair off her forehead, she knew the Joker would never let the topic drop.
She pulled her candy dish closer and told him nothing that wasn't already known on the news circuit and social media.
The Joker's television was heavily monitored, and he was titillated at the stories of Bane murdering the neuro-physicist at a home game and what a six-mile blast radius would've looked like had the bomb detonated.
The rest of the session was Maureen responding to the Joker's rapid-fire questioning about Bane and his murderous rampage.
The fourth day of Bane's refusal made Maureen clench her teeth until her jaw popped as she made the perfunctory note in his chart and jotted down a face-to-face visit if he refused to see her the following day.
While Maureen spent the bulk of the day purging her old files and updating notes and reviewing prescribed medications for her patient load, across the facility in his cell, Bane began creating a chess board from rivets and loose screws. He ripped at his facility blanket and used the thread to build his chess pieces.
On the morning of the fifth day when Maureen was greeted with a voicemail about Bane's continued refusal, she pulled on her lab coat and made her way to his wing of Arkham Asylum.
Maureen looked through Bane's cell window, calling to his broad back.
"Is this how you wish to spend your time in here until trial?" Maureen asked as she looked around the cell, noting there was nothing on the walls or perched on the narrow windowsill.
Bane remained silent as he moved some of the pieces around on the handmade board he had carved into his tabletop.
"Doctor?" Bane finally called when he heard the click of Maureen's heels as she began to retreat.
"Yes," Maureen called as she paused.
"I could talk with you again."
"What caused the shift?"
"Is that really important?"
"Yes."
Maureen waited, patient in the blind she'd built in the woods, looking to trap and truss an antlered prey.
"I will not let the ruling bodies of this city determine my fate."
"I'll see you in the morning," Maureen said as Bane finally turned around towards her.
They looked at each other, neither smiling nor frowning, just looking.
Appraising.
Evaluating.
Judging.
Beginning to learn.
Maureen eventually nodded and fell out of Bane's line of sight.
Bane listened to the click of her departing heels and moved a few pieces around on the one-of-a-kind board.
"See you in the morning," Bane echoed as he moved the Knight chess piece he'd fashioned from a desiccated beetle he'd found in the corner of his room closer towards the Queen, who was composed of a snarl of cotton and polyester threads he'd methodically pulled from the chair in front of Maureen's massive desk.
The rest of the day at Arkham passed as most of the days did, the screams from some of the inmates continued long into the late hours of the night.
When Maureen parked her car in the lot the next day and settled in her office behind her desk, she had no idea that Arnold Miles and his premature arrival hours later in the day would cause a veritable shift in the world and fracture her future.
Maureen was involved in measuring out rounded scoops of French roast when McShane knocked lightly on her office door.
She glanced up at the wall clock and called for Tommy to come in at the hesitant sound of his knuckles tapping the frosted glass.
The two chatted about the upcoming playoffs and traded barbs about each other's teams offensive lines and which manager visited the most happy-ending massage parlors.
Maureen's desk phone gave a shrill ring, interrupting McShane talking trash about her favorite teams QB.
"Hold that thought," Maureen said and held up a hand before picking up the call.
Tommy went back to emptying the trash cans and refilling her bathroom's paper products while she talked.
"Everything okay doctor?" Tommy asked when she ended the call, her expression unreadable.
"Just a change in the day," Maureen mumbled and thumbed through her calendar to switch up the appointment times for Bane and the Joker.
The caller was a radiologist tech that was letting Maureen know the Joker was undergoing a barium X-ray of his abdomen that morning to rule out some possible ulcerative issues in his stomach as well as a full round of bloodwork to see how his values were settling with the methamphetamine being purged from his system.
Maureen glanced up at the clock and jotted down the need to switch the order of the Joker and Bane for that day before returning to the sports trash talking with Tommy.
Tommy and Maureen ended up sitting with full cups of coffee and let time escape with each near-scalding sip of the rich brew, Maureen found a palpable peace in talking of the unimportant with the dormant murderer.
They were interrupted when Boris the tech knocked on her door, his knuckles assertive as they landed on the glass.
Maureen set her coffee mug down hard on the corner of the desk, the contents sloshing as she looked up at the clock before directing her gaze to her office door. She frowned down at the watch around her narrow wrist. "Is that really the time?" Maureen asked the face of her glittery-framed smart watch.
"I'm late to see Dr. Carlton," Tommy stuttered as he nearly spilled the dregs of his coffee.
"I'll give her a call, let her know you're tardy because of the team you cheer for," Maureen murmured easily as she walked Tommy to the door.
Maureen nearly ran into McShane as he suddenly turned as rigid and still as a pillar of salt. Tommy's spine become an immovable marble column as his nervous system tried to retreat within itself as he came face-to-face with a shackled Bane.
McShane's mouth grew dry as he stared up in wide-eyed wonder at Bane's broad body, thick forearms and vascularly straited neck.
Bane could sense that Thomas McShane was a rodent, a small man, diminutive in strength and spirit. Bane could see the sins painted on Tommy's suddenly pallid face.
No amount of time would wipe away the blood of Tommy's infant daughter that dripped from his hands. No financial restitution would wash that away, his soul was indelibly stained.
Bane fought a smirk when Tommy began to simultaneously cry and piss himself, his primitive roots made him want to grovel in penitence at Bane's feet.
Bane stared down impassively at Tommy as large tears fell down the man's pale cheeks.
Bane saw him as a useful bauble of flesh and bone that he could leverage.
"Thomas, are you alright?" Maureen asked as McShane dropped to the floor and curled into the fetal position, beginning to rock back and forth at Bane's feet.
Bane watched with a sudden and explosive jealousy, anger, and envy as he watched Maureen drop to her knee next to a hysterical McShane.
"Thomas?" Maureen called as she snaked her fingers into his curled form to check his carotid pulse as Ferguson moved quickly away from the wall to assist Maureen.
Bane let Boris lead him a few feet away as Maureen talked lowly to McShane. Bane nearly growled as he watched Maureen console McShane, salivating as he craved to tear McShane away from Maureen so he could receive the comfort.
At the same time, longing to take those wants and wring the life out of them. How he wanted to push those wanton desires into the dirt.
He'd smothered any needs he'd had at birth, embraced the darkness in utero.
Bane narrowed his eyes on her slim fingers with their glossy, manicured nails squeezing McShane's upper arm. Bane bit his tongue until blood flooded his mouth as he watched her knuckles turn white from her ardent touch, he swallowed the metallic liquidity as Ferguson and Maureen helped McShane to his shaky feet.
Bane continued to watch Maureen comfort the former multiple murderer Thomas McShane. He kept his expression neutral as he listened to Maureen instruct Ferguson to take McShane back to his cell via the scenic route so he could enjoy a few minutes in the sunny atrium, encourage him to catch a glance at one of the newly hatched green parrots native to South America.
Boris cuffed and shackled Bane to the chair in Maureen's office as Maureen walked Ferguson and McShane to the elevator. Bane strained his ears to catch Maureen's instructions.
Out in the hall as the elevator cart was on its way to the top floor, Maureen directed her words towards Ferguson. "Make sure he gets two servings of dessert tonight," Maureen whispered to Ferguson before looking over at McShane who had his eyes glued to the floor.
Maureen tipped his chin up until McShane had to meet her eyes as she pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped away a few of his fat, glistening tears. "You know you can always talk to me," Maureen solemnly murmured.
"I know, I know, thank you," Tommy stammered and dutifully followed Ferguson into the elevator when the stainless-steel doors opened with a gentle series of chimes.
Maureen gave Bane a cursory glance as she returned to her desk, finding his wrists and ankles properly secured to the sturdy chair.
"Did you enjoy that?" Maureen asked with a bite as she settled behind her desk.
"You're angry," Bane stated with amusement evident in his tone.
"No, not angry," Maureen, "but was that necessary?"
Bane shrugged as much as the cuffs allowed.
Maureen pulled out a fresh notepad when it became clear Bane was through speaking.
"So you've decided to pursue further visits, what prompted this decision?"
Bane shrugged again, "I will not let your legal system accelerate my imminent execution."
Maureen nodded, "what do you think your compatriots would do if they were in the same place?"
"They are in the ground and no longer can make any decisions."
"What would Talia advise you do in this situation?"
Bane narrowed his eyes, his expression betrayed nothing of his thoughts, but his irises swirled with suppressed fire, his orbs practically vibrating as he evenly spoke. "The dead have no voice."
Maureen nodded and jotted down the date in the top, right corner of the page.
"How are you feeling being back in your room? How's the chest pain?"
"It is much improved," Bane answered, his honesty made the syllables sparkle.
"I'd like to revisit some word association," she stated.
Bane nodded.
"Darkness."
"Home."
"Pain."
"Tolerable."
"Oppression."
"Necessary."
"Prison."
"Manmade."
"Death."
"Eventual."
"Soldier."
"Yes."
"Loyal."
"Yes."
"Sex."
"Compulsory."
"Love."
"Wasteful."
"Power."
"Me," Bane growled after a lengthy pause, his lips barely moved as he spoke.
Maureen made a few more notes before dragging the tip of her pencil down her list of remaining words.
In the space of silence before she spoke, Bane moved his eyes around her office, scanning the book titles, pausing on the brilliant blue vase before squinting at the formal photo of her and Josef taken on their wedding day in the rust-colored frame.
"What a lovely, lovely bride," Bane thought before Maureen's voice brought him back to the moment.
"Heart."
"Mechanical."
"Mother."
Maureen tilted her chin when Bane grew impossibly still, even his chest ceased to rise in the wake of her single spoken word.
"Would you like to skip that one?" Maureen asked, the tip of her pencil poised over the lined paper.
Bane shook his head, "no."
"No?" Maureen asked.
"Ask your question again doctor," Bane stated without inflection.
Maureen arched an eyebrow.
"Mother."
"No," Bane echoed.
Maureen jotted a few words next to the word mother before she continued.
"Father."
"No."
"Soul."
"Damned."
"Penis."
"Power."
"Vagina."
"Useful."
"Life."
"Unsecured."
Maureen glanced up at the wall clock, surprised to see where the big hand of the clock was now resting, knowing Boris was most likely en route to her office.
No sooner than she had the thought, did Boris's knuckles sound on her closed office door.
Maureen opened the door for Boris and returned to her desk to finish the session notes as Bane was led away.
Unbeknownst to Maureen, Arnold Miles and his penchant for premature arrivals would pull apart the very tectonic plates of her life just as the elevator doors opened and he escorted the Joker towards her office.
As Maureen flipped to a fresh page of her notebook, out in the hallway, the Joker's eyes widened when he saw Bane approaching from the opposite direction.
Bane was just as aware of the Joker when he came into view.
"Read any good books lately?" the Joker shrieked as he was led closer.
Arnold Miles had worked at Arkham Asylum for a long time and had been working with the Joker since he'd arrived. Arnold made the critical error of misjudging the Joker's capacity for instant chaos, an error that nearly cost him his life.
Everyone within earshot with the exception of Bane flinched when the Joker let out a series of piercing whoops and threw his head back, smashing the back of his skull squarely against Arnold's nose, causing the porky tech to fall heavily to the ground, coming to rest flat on his back.
The Joker ran towards Bane, continuing to use his cranium as a weapon as he clipped Bane's cheekbone open, momentum carrying him forward until he was stopped short and dropped to the floor like a sack of weevil filled all-purpose flour when he met the wall of sheer muscle and viscera that Bane was composed of.
"You're a big guy," the Joker squealed as he stared up at Bane.
"For you," Bane stated as he stared down at the laughing man.
Maureen heard the shouting and hurried out to the hallway just as Boris was pulling the Joker to his feet, Arnold still knocked out like a bloated whale's carcass.
Maureen surveyed the scene and returned briefly to her office to dial security as well as punch in the combination for a locked box in the left, bottom drawer of her desk. She drew up a healthy syringe-full of Ketamine before scurrying back to where Boris had the Joker wrapped up, struggling to keep him still as he howled and yelled about fucking Boris's mother before eating her.
"Arthur," Maureen shouted as she stomped towards him with the needle full of sleep.
The Joker froze in Boris's strong embrace as he whipped his face towards Maureen.
"It's the Joker," he shouted with a mirror-shattering shrill.
"Arthur," Maureen said again with an easier tone as she continued to walk towards the Joker all wrapped up in Boris's arms.
Maureen watched the Joker's eyes move in between her and the needle, she watched the wind leave his sails, forcing him further from the sun and into deep space where his wings froze.
"I'm not afraid," the Joker whispered, his eyes wide and unblinking.
Maureen nodded as she watched the Joker free fall back to earth, plunging through the atmosphere and nearly burning up like a crazed comet as she pushed his sleeve up past the crook of his elbow.
"I'm not afraid," the Joker repeated as Maureen slid the needle into an inviting vein and depressed the plunger, filling his bloodstream with the potent schedule 1 narcotic.
Bane watched as Maureen cupped the Joker's face as the drug took over his body and bent his nervous system to its will, collapsing his consciousness until he sagged in Boris's arms.
"Go to sleep Arthur," Maureen whispered as the Joker's eyes rolled up and a string of saliva fell from the corner of his slack lips.
Maureen rose to her full height as the elevator doors opened and a few security officers spilled out.
Boris helped one of the techs secure the Joker to a gurney as Maureen stared down at the just coming back to conscious face of Arnold Miles, his nose nearly bisected from the Joker's sure shot. She couldn't hide her disgust as she directed one of the other techs to fetch another gurney and get Arnold to the medical wing.
Maureen turned towards Bane who had remained standing in wordless observation, blood running down his strong face and dripping to the yellowed tile floor.
"Are you okay?" Maureen asked as she walked towards him, Boris two steps behind her.
Bane flinched when she reached up to touch his wound.
"It's nothing that should cause you concern."
Maureen moved closer to Bane, forcing him to make the decision to further retreat or remain still.
No part of himself would ever allow for retreat.
Bane remained resolutely still as Maureen used the same tissue she'd dried Tommy's tears to wipe up a few drops of blood that were perched on Bane's top lip.
Maureen spoke to Boris over her shoulder without ever moving her eyes away from Bane's.
"Please take him to the medical wing."
"That is unnecessary," Bane interjected.
Maureen dabbed at more of the blood that had run from the wound. "This requires stitches, five by my estimation," Maureen stated, ignoring Bane's protests.
"Your objections will be noted," Maureen added before she turned and walked towards the elevator as the techs were loading the Joker on the squeaky gurney.
Bane felt his guts twist in revulsion when he was horrified by the perverse notion of calling out for her as she walked away, her heels clicking with each authoritative step.
In the moment that Maureen stepped onto the elevator before the doors closed behind her, an image of Talia stomping away juxtaposed Bane's reality and played tricks with his eyes.
Bane continued to watch the elevator doors long after they'd closed, shaken back to reality as Boris nudged him towards the second elevator cart and depressed the call button.
As Boris escorted Bane to the medical wing, Maureen was in a separate bay with the Joker, giving a verbal report to the charge nurse.
After Maureen watched the Joker have an IV and heart monitors placed, she walked by the nurse's station to a closed set of pastel curtains.
On the other side of the drawn curtains, Bane was being cleaned up and prepped to receive the first of five stitches along his sharp cheekbone.
Maureen leaned closer to the small opening in the drawn linen as one of the techs cleaned off the freshly running and dried blood from Bane's face. The tech failed to properly wring out the washcloth and Maureen found herself mesmerized as she watched the pink-tinged drops of water roll down his chiseled features, muscular neck and fall to land on his broad chest.
Bane sensed the weight of her eyes and looked up suddenly, catching Maureen openly staring at him.
Maureen sucked in a sharp breath but held his eyes briefly before hurrying back to her office and filling out an incident report to accompany both the Joker's and Bane's medical records.
After she locked up her desk and file cabinets, Maureen zipped up her raincoat with the light rainfall as she skipped to her car, trying to avoid puddles. She was moving along at a comfortable speed, adjusting the heater vent to blow on her lower legs when the large car began to shudder and buck.
"What the hell?" Maureen shouted as the engine shuddered, the battery had given its last hurrah without even issuing a warning shot.
Maureen was able to safely pull the car over to the side of the road before it came to a complete stop, still thirty minutes from home. She fumbled with her cell phone and slapped the steering wheel when she had no bars or flicker of a signal.
Maureen fumbled in the glove compartment for the manual with the number of her insurance carrier's roadside coverage and towing. She gave herself a healthy papercut as she flipped through the pages and tossed the manual to the floorboard, tears suddenly finding their way down her face in warm rivulets.
As Maureen turned on her emergency flashers she sniffed hard, reminded of how much she hated the classic muscle car with the powerful engine as the only sound were the fat raindrops hitting the hood and windshield.
Maureen pushed open the heavy door after she popped the hood. The rain slowly soaked into her designer dress as she stared down at the engine, not knowing what she was even looking for. She kicked the front tire, wishing for Josef to be there since he was the only person who could deal with the car.
She slid back behind the wheel and slapped her hands on the dashboard until her hands stung, shouting as sobs began to wrack her body.
"Why did you have to kill yourself Josef?"
