The next morning, Wendy took a taxi to the nearest pharmacy and told Travis to wait for her while she went in real quick to look for something. She walked in and searched down the aisle, looking for the answer to her nausea problem. She scanned the shelf of different brands and checked each one for the best results, selecting three in the end.
There was a young Korean man behind the counter reading a magazine when Wendy walked up to pay for her items and placed them down on the counter. "I'll take all three", she told him, clearly in a hurry.
The Korean man offered her a friendly smile and and rang up her items. "That'll be $19.89, ma'am", he said.
Wendy took out a twenty while he stuffed the three boxes into a white paper bag. She slipped him the money and told him, "Keep the change", snatching the bag away as quickly as she could and hurrying out the door.
"You're welcome", the Korean man called out.
Wendy walked out and got back into the taxi, slamming the door. Travis turned his head and looked at her. "Where to now?"
"Take me home", Wendy told him abruptly, rocking herself back and forth anxiously.
Travis gave her a suspicious look and said, "Listen, Wendy, I know you got a lot on your mind right now, but I've been meaning to ask you about-"
"Just drive!" Wendy snapped at him.
Travis raised his hands and told her, "All right, all right. Just take it easy." He looked away and started the cab up and drove down the road.
Wendy looked out the back left window for a bit, then stopped rocking herself and looked at the white paper bag she was holding. She opened it and eyed the three different boxes she purchased, hoping they would work.
Travis glanced at Wendy in the rearview mirror and risked talking to her again, being that she was in such a bad mood. He figured she was on the rag or something. "Hey, you sure you're okay? You don't look so hot."
Wendy looked forward and asked him, "What?"
Travis paid his attention back on the road ahead of him and said, "You just seem kind of upset about something."
"I'm not upset, I'm fine", Wendy reassured him.
Travis turned his head to look back at her and then looked forward again. "Look, I wasn't tryin' to get into your business or anything. I'm just talkin' to talk, you know?"
Wendy leaned forward and said, "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Travis. I'm just scared about what's happening in this city. I'm debating whether I should leave or not. I'd like to, but then I'd be leaving you and Arthur behind."
"Look, don't worry about me", said Travis. "I can take care of myself. I'm a survivor, remember? That's what I do. If that's the way you feel about this city, I get it. You're scared, you wanna get out of here as soon as possible before it goes to shit and gets any worse. These people here are nuts, anyway. I don't think I can take much more of this shit myself, you know? I think Arthur would follow you anywhere if you asked him to. I know his mother just passed away, but I think he could use a new start in life. I think you and him should just go somewhere far away from Gotham City and pretend this whole fucking clown thing never happened."
Wendy considered Travis' advice about her situation and said, "You might be right about that."
"I'm not saying I'm right or wrong about anything", said Travis. "I don't know much about everything, but I do know I just want you and Arthur to be happy. He told me last night he's tried so hard to be happy all the time, but I think it's because he's lonely. I think all three of us have that in common. We live hard lives and people give us crap because of it, but we go on with our lives and try to make the best of it. That's life, I guess."
Meanwhile, Arthur was leaning over the bathroom sink, standing there in only his underwear. He looked in the mirror, his hair dripping with water and green hair dye. Arthur had the radio on while he applied more of the emerald green liquid to his head, listening to the ever popular tune of That's Life by Frank Sinatra. The hair dye ran down part of his face, landing on his shoulders and rolling down his back, as well as his chest. Massaging the burning chemical substance into his scalp, Arthur rinsed his hair in the sink and repeated the same process several more times, watching his reflection dance along with him while the song continued playing. He started dancing around the bathroom in his now green-stained underwear, thrusting his hips and shaking his head. His wet hair hung down like dark seaweed. He was celebrating his new-found freedom and acceptance of who he was starting to become, his alter ego that gave him so much confidence. Arthur continued moving his body to the jazzy rhythm still playing on the radio and danced his wire-thin frame back over to the bathroom mirror.
Once his hair was dry enough and almost completely green, Arthur went into the bedroom and sat down at the vanity. The radio continued playing songs as he painted the white grease makeup onto his face, using a plastic clown mask that was hanging on the corner as a reference. His shoulders, chest, and back were stained pale green from the hair dye that dripped down from his head earlier. The smell of paint and hair dye chemicals excited him on a new level, practically given him a boner as he thought about tonight.
Arthur gathered more paint with the brush, using soft, delicate, strokes to paint across his right cheek and along his lower lip. Sticking his tongue out, he painted the top part of his tongue, then smoked from his cigarette and tasted the toxic combination without any sign of disgust. He did this while listening to the song Bennie and the Jets by Elton John. Arthur blew the intoxicating vapors out through his nose like a smoking dragon and glanced up at a picture nestled in the upper left corner of the mirror. He took it down to look at it more closely and discovered it was an old black and white photograph of Penny when she was a young woman. He turned the picture over and saw a handwritten message on the back. Love your smile, T.W. He recognized it as her own handwriting. Crazy, fucked-up bitch, Arthur thought to himself, crumbling up the picture in his hand.
Once the song faded, Arthur turned the radio off and opened a drawer and found an old pair of rusty scissors. He picked them up and looked at them. I wonder if I should castrate myself in the bathtub and write a message on the wall in my own blood. That would be an interesting sight, Arthur thought to himself. Thankfully, his twisted thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of the doorbell. Arthur looked over his shoulder, wondering who was at the door. He set the scissors down and stood up, picking up his dark blue sweatpants from off the bed and putting them on. He grabbed the scissors and stuck them into his back pocket, just in case. The buzzer rang again.
"Coming!" Arthur shouted, walking out of the bedroom and going to answer the door. He looked through the peephole, half-expecting to see the pretty face of Wendy standing outside the door, but it wasn't her.
Arthur unlatched the chain and unlocked the door and opened it, seeing the unwelcoming sight of Randall staring back at him. Anger started to surface in Arthur's heart and he felt like striking him while the iron was still hot.
"Hey, Arthur", said a familiar, accented voice. Looking down, Arthur discovered it was Gary. "How's it going?"
Arthur quickly replaced his rage with a friendly smile and told them, "Hey, guys. Come on in." He opened the door all the way and let them both inside.
"Did you get a new gig?" Gary asked him.
"No", Arthur answered, taking a drag from his cigarette.
"Oh, then you must be going down to that rally tonight at City Hall", said Randall. "I hear it's gonna be nuts."
Arthur closed the door, then latched the security chain and turned around to face his two ex-coworkers and asked innocently, "Oh, is that today? I didn't know."
"Yeah", Randall answered. He pointed to his own face and asked, "What's with the makeup then?"
Arthur leaned sideways against the archway and smoked from his cigarette, placing a hand on his left hip and breathing smoke out his nostrils. "My mom died", he answered, flatly. "I'm celebrating."
Randall nodded and said, "Yeah, we heard. That's why we're here." He turned to Gary and said, "We thought you could use a bit of cheering up."
Gary showed Arthur a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag and told him, "We didn't want to bother you, but Randall thought we should come by and pay our respects."
"That's sweet", said Arthur. "But, no. I feel good about it, actually. I also stopped taking my medication. I feel a lot better now." He looked over towards Randall's direction as he finished that last sentence.
"Right, well, good for you", Randall told him.
Arthur nodded in agreement, taking another drag.
"Well, listen, the cops have been coming around the shop", Randall mentioned. "They're, uh, talking to all the guys about those subway murders and, uh, I was wondering..."
Arthur ignored half of what Randall was telling him, zoning out as he looked over to his left and doused his cigarette on the wall, drawing a crude circle and turning it into a smiley face with the burning end.
Gary looked up at Randall with confusion and said, "They didn't talk to me."
"That's because the suspect was a regular-sized person", Randall told him. "If it was a fucking midget, you'd be in jail right now."
Arthur placed his hands on both sides of the archway, leaning forward as he let out a fake, high-pitched laugh as a warning sign for him to back off. He lowered his head and stood there like that while Randall continued.
"Anyway, Hoyt said that they talked to you and, uh, now there, uh, looking for me, and, uh..."
Arthur hunched his shoulders, tensing his body and lifting his head up a bit, titling it over to one side. He stared menacingly at Randall like a ravenous scavenger bird ready to feast on a carcass.
"I just wanna know what you said. You know, make sure our stories line up. And since, you know, bein' that you're my boy and everything-"
"No, I get it", said Arthur, standing up straight and nodding his head. He reached a hand behind his back and said, "It's important, right? Thank you for that, Randall...Thank you for throwing me under the fucking bus!"
Pulling out the scissors, Arthur stabbed the side of Randall's neck, blood spraying out as the heavy-set man yelled in pain. Gary screamed in terror and back away into a corner, dropping the bottle.
"Arthur, no!" Gary shouted. "Don't!"
Arthur pulled the scissors out and struck Randall in his left eye socket, grabbing hold of him and slamming his head hard against the wall. Gary continued to scream in protest. Arthur slammed Randall's head against the wall about ten times, staining it crimson and taking all his frustration out on the man who fucked up his life and got him fired in the first place. Blood splattered at one point across Arthur's face and chest, but he never noticed.
Releasing the dead man and letting his body slump over on the ground, Arthur turned and leaned his back against the blood-stained wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. He closed his eyes and took a minute to catch his breath.
"Why would you do that, Arthur?!" Gary sobbed, whimpering and shaking with fear. This wasn't the man he used to feel sorry for. This was a monster.
Soon as he mellowed out, Arthur opened his eyes and looked at Gary, asking him, "Do you watch the Murray Franklin Show? I'm gonna be on tonight."
Gary didn't move or speak. He just stood there hidden in the corner, like a frightened child or a wounded puppy.
"It fuckin' crazy, innit?" Arthur asked him, imitating a cockney accent. "Can you imagine it, Gareth? Me on the telly?"
Gary shook his head, tears running down his face as he muttered under his breath, "What the fuck, Arthur?...What the fuck?..."
"What?" Arthur asked him, returning back to his normal voice and not seeing what the big deal was. He smiled and laughed a little and said, "It's okay, Gary. You can go. I'm not gonna hurt you."
Gary stepped forward reluctantly and glanced over at Randall's corpse, letting out another anguish sob at the sight of the dead man's body on the bloody floor.
"Don't look", said Arthur, softly. "Just go."
Gary was scared to do so. As much as he wanted to leave and erase the horrible thing he just witnessed, he had just that much more of a reason to be afraid of Arthur, whose face twisted itself into a horrifying snarl.
Gary walked with caution as he headed over towards Arthur, who thought he should give the small man one last scare. He pretended to lunge and reach his hands out towards Gary, yelling ferociously.
Gary sobbed again and ran over to the door and tried to open it, but the chain locked above him prevented him from leaving. He tried to reach for the chain, but he was much too short. He cursed under his breath, sniffling and sighing in defeat. Gary tensed up as he turned around and looked back at his crazy and deranged ex-coworker.
"Hey, Arthur?" Gary asked him, nervously.
"Hmm?" Arthur looked at him, his face blank as ever.
"Arthur, could you get the...the lock?" Gary asked him, timidly.
Arthur lowered his head and breathed out an embarrassed laugh, blushing underneath the splattered mess of red and white on his face. "Sorry, Gary", he said. Arthur got up off the floor and went over to unlock the chain and open the door to let Gary out. He opened the door just a tiny bit, then looked down at the small man, who found the floor to be a much more interesting sight at the moment.
"Gary?"
"Yeah?"
Arthur closed the door and said to him in a sad voice, "You were the only one at work that was ever nice to me." Gary looked up at him. Arthur then bent over and planted a gentle kiss onto the small man's forehead.
"Get out", said Arthur, opening the door again. This time, he meant it.
Gary lowered his head and walked out of the apartment. Soon as he left, Arthur closed the door and latched the chain again, then turned and blew a breath out through his pursed lips. He looked at his blood-stained hand, then glanced down at Randall's corpse. He walked over and knelt down and took out the dead man's wallet, taking the money out of it. He tossed the empty wallet aside, then stood up and left the body there to be found later. He had to finish getting ready for tonight. First, he had to touch up his makeup again.