CHAPTER ONE

TROUBLE ON A SUBWAY

The man sat on the subway, his unblinking green eyes – a sea of unfathomable loneliness – staring absently forward. His lips were coated in a bright, red, over exaggerated smile, outlined thickly in black. But there was no hiding the waves of sadness splashing about in his eyes; they were as plain as the carefully painted makeup on his face. Being a party clown, he always wore a happy smile, hoping he could spread joy and laughter to the world.

But at the end of each day, off came the mask that concealed the broken man beneath.

He wasn't just a clown.

He was Arthur Fleck – lifelong resident in the cold, dark, unforgiving city that was Gotham.

Arthur sighed quietly, his tired eyes shifting to the woman sitting opposite him. She raised a pencil-thin brow, as if to say what's with the costume? Arthur said nothing, dropping his gaze awkwardly. The woman snickered under her breath and shook her head. He was used to being stared at as if he were an alien creature who didn't belong in Gotham; it was a sad, but inescapable part of his life. It didn't help when he'd plunge into unstoppable, uncontrollable fits of laughter. That earned him strange, unkindly stares by the bucket load.

His mind flickered back to that morning. He'd been riding the bus to work, like he did every morning. He'd noticed a young boy staring at him, his face a mixture of pity and childlike confusion. Arthur loved making kids laugh. It was one of his favorite parts about being a party clown. Seeing the boy's face light up in an amused smile as he played peek-a-boo with him, Arthur too had felt a smile creeping onto his face. Adults might not have found him amusing, but he never failed to send kids chuckling. In that moment, it had crossed Arthur's mind: maybe today will be a good day?

Like a vase smashing to pieces, those thoughts were shattered when the boy's not-so-kindly mother snapped, "Could you stop bothering my kid?"

Even when Arthur presented a small card to her, still the woman's annoyance didn't vanish. It was a card he carried with him wherever he went, for there wasn't a day that passed, sadly, when his uncontrollable laughter didn't pay him a visit. Despite offering her his card, still she'd shot him another look that screamed: freak. Without handing the man his card back, she wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders, as if Arthur were some dangerous, villainous monster.

Again Arthur wondered: why? Why did people treat him so cruelly? For one who only wanted to spread joy and laughter to the world, why was it that the world had only apathy and nastiness to spit back at him? It was a question he could never find an answer to. Maybe, he thought wearily, it was a question that would remain unanswered forever.

Pulling the laminated card out of his pocket, Arthur re-read the card for what felt like the hundredth time.

It's a medical condition causing sudden, frequent, and uncontrollable laughter that doesn't match how you feel. It can happen in people with an injury or certain neurological condition.

Thank you!

Slipping the card back into his pocket, Arthur frowned. He wondered if he could just maybe make it home without drama wrapping its tendrils round him. He shuffled in his seat, knowing the odds were dreadfully slim. Asking for a drama-free ride home was like asking for Thomas Wayne to help make the lives of Gotham's less fortunate even a tad easier. Not going to happen.

Letting out another sigh, Arthur returned to staring out the window, lost in his tangled web of thoughts. How long the ride lasted, he couldn't say. So hopelessly lost in his own world, it was like time screeched to a stop.

At one point, Arthur heard a startling screeeeech. He yanked himself out of his thoughts. Was time actually screeching to a stop?

No.

Just the subway stopping to let passengers off and on. He yawned and rubbed his hands over his face. He hadn't realized till now how tired he felt, though he doubted he'd sleep much that night. It wasn't often he got more than a few hours of sleep each night. Already he knew what that night would look like: him sitting at the wooden table in his living room, scribbling down jokes in his journal, hoping with everything in him that one of these days his dream of becoming a stand-up comedian would come true.

Arthur watched absently as the woman across from him rose to her feet. Snatching up her gold, diamond-studded purse, she swept past Arthur without so much as a backward glance. He wasn't certain, but he swore he detected a slight, but arrogant "humph" as she departed the train. It was like she was relieved at finally being able to get away from the freakish clown.

Before the doors closed, a young woman hurried on. While catching her breath, she quickly grabbed a seat. Setting her purse down beside her, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Arthur watched her curiously. She looked to be in her twenties, with coal-black hair falling past her shoulders like a dark waterfall. Her small frame was covered in a pink turtleneck and grey leggings. His lips curved up in a small smile. Her flamingo-pink sweater was the only colorful thing in that dingy, smelly subway. When her gaze fell downward, Arthur felt a pang of sympathy. He was no stranger to the deepening frown now etched on her face; that same frown greeted him every morning when he looked in the mirror.

She must have sensed she was being watched, for she silently cast her gaze onto Arthur. Immediately he forced his gaze back onto the floor, trying to pretend he was interested in the newspaper. He was thankful his face was painted white, otherwise she would have clearly seen the red blossoming on his cheeks. He suddenly felt like a shy little boy, and had to fight the urge to not burst out laughing.

Don't laugh, don't laugh, he thought desperately. Please don't laugh. He swallowed hard, and distracted himself by fiddling with his thumbs. Deep in his throat, he felt an all too familiar sensation bubbling into existence, climbing its way up towards his mouth. He coughed loudly, praying his laughter wasn't about to break free of the cage he struggled so hard to keep it in.

He waited.

Waited...

Waited...

A minute later, he let out a silent sigh of relief. In his moment of relief, he chanced another look at the woman. She was reading, though it didn't look to him as if she were fully absorbed in the story. Her gaze kept jumping about, bouncing here and there, as if she were only half interested in what was happening on the pages. Arthur kept his gaze on the window across from him. Keep on staring at her, he told himself, and she'll think you're a creep. J-Just pretend you're sleeping or...or something like that.

Before he could think anything else, Arthur heard the sound of a door opening. A quick glance to his left showed three men entering the compartment. Dressed in wrinkle-free tuxedos and wearing toothy smiles, these new arrivals had cocky written all over them. The tallest of the three remained standing, leaning casually up against the silver pole, chatting loudly. The other two – a blond man in suspenders and a curly-haired man – were already sitting.

"Are you nuts?" the blond one exclaimed. He threw his hands up for emphasis. "Did you see how close we were dancing? She was in love!"

The tall guy scoffed, saying, "Right, right." He cuffed the curly-haired guy on the shoulder. "That's crazy. Tell him what you saw!"

But the other guy wasn't paying attention. In his hand he held a crumpled bag. With a small smirk, he waved it in front of the woman, who was once again staring down at her book.

"You want some French fries?" he said in a slurred voice. Again he waved the bag, more forcefully. "Hellooooo?" When the woman lifted her gaze nervously, he went on, "Hey, I'm talking to you. Want some French fries?"

"No, thank you," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

"You sure?" the guy asked, holding up a fry. He wiggled it and lifted his brows, locking his gaze on the woman. He licked his lips and added, "They're really good."

"Don't ignore him," the blond guy said. "He's being nice to you."

When a fry was thrown at the woman, she gasped in surprise. Immediately the three men burst out laughing. Shuffling uncomfortably in her seat, the woman shot a nervous glance at the clown.

Arthur watched her, his expression a combination of mounting fear and empathy. A small chuckle rolled off his lips, but his thoughts weren't on the fact that an inevitable bout of laughter was on the way.

These men were drunk; that much was obvious.

They were drunk...and eyeing the small woman with wolfish grins. Instantly Arthur's mind leapt into overdrive. He might not have been a genius, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize what these men had on their minds.

It wasn't French fries.

Arthur exhaled shakily. His heart pounded against his chest as the imminent danger this woman was in became startlingly clear. He could hear the clock tick-tock-tick-tocking down to...he didn't want to think about what he feared it had to be counting down to.

He had to do something.

But what could he do?

No way could skinny, frail Arthur Fleck fend of three strapping young men! But he sure as hell couldn't sit there and do a big, fat nothing. He had to get up and do...do...what? Tell them to get the hell away from her? As if these drunks would actually listen to some man in makeup and a clown suit? No doubt they'd knock him to the ground and introduce him to their kicking feet.

But it didn't matter.

He had to do something...anything.

"H-h-hey!" he shouted. He covered his mouth momentarily, feeling that nagging urge to break out laughing. "G-get away from her!"

The woman took a deep breath. Her wide eyes landed on Arthur, and though she said nothing, he could hear the silent "thank you" falling off her lips. Just as quickly, her eyes were back on the three men. They were all standing now, closing the distance between themselves and the shaking woman.

"S-stop!" Arthur shouted, rising to his feet. "O-or I'll—ha-ha-ha-haaa!"

It was instantaneous. All three men turned and shot Arthur expressions that each said the same thing: what the fuck? Arthur meanwhile, buried his face in his sleeve, unsuccessfully trying to silence his laughter. He took a breath and removed his face from his sleeve. Seconds later, once more his laughter grabbed hold of him, showing him no mercy.

"Is something funny, asshole?" the tall guy hollered.

Arthur waved his hand "no."

The woman in the pink turtleneck watched him in silence. Unlike the men, who stared at Arthur with growing smirks, her expression was one of...compassion. The two's gazes locked, and while no words were spoken, Arthur could tell she was scared.

Screeeeech.

The train was coming to a stop.

Arthur kept his gaze on the woman. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but all that poured out was a louder, more painful laugh. He could hear the men snickering among themselves, but Arthur did his best to block them out. His focus was on helping the woman. Seeing the men sneering at him in unison, a light bulb went off in his head.

While still laughing, he cocked his head to the right. He didn't need to speak to get across to her what he wanted to. Go! he thought urgently. With their interest now shifted to the laughing clown, no longer were they eyeing her.

When they train came to a stop, the woman rose to her feet. Before leaving, she shot Arthur one last glance. Again he motioned to the doors, silently insisting that she hurry out of there. Her eyes swam with waves of conflicting emotions. Finally, after what felt like eternity, she turned and exited the train.

A minute later, the train was moving.

"Isn't it rich?" the tall guy sang, sliding his way over towards the clown. "Are we a pair?" The other two remained sitting, covering their faces with their hands, howling with childish laughter.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Before he knew it, Arthur was surrounded. Gone was any chance of distancing himself from these three. All he could do was sit there and laugh and pray this would all be over with soon.

The curly-haired guy snatched Arthur's wig of green hair off his head. Onto his own head he placed it. Sticking his tongue out, he gave Arthur a mocking smile. The other two snorted in approval.

"So, buddy, tell us, what's so fucking funny?" the tall guy demanded.

"Hah-hah!" Arthur's hand went to his throat. His laughing was slowing – he could feel it. Taking a shaky breath, he reached into his pocket where he kept his little card.

"I..I have a condition," he said, his voice quavering. No sooner had he pulled the card out of his pocket than he felt it grabbed out of his hand. The tall guy tossed it aside, and winked at the other two. The next thing they tossed was the duffel bag.

"I'll tell ya what ya have, you asshole," he laughed.

With that, Arthur was grabbed from behind as the chaos began.

What happened next Arthur only remembered bits and pieces of. Such a blur time became when he was knocked to the ground. In the minutes that followed, he remembered only pain and loneliness as he lay there, the men's feet kicking mercilessly. With each kick, Arthur winced, which only cranked up the volume on the trio's laughter. Such sniggering spilled off the men's lips that Arthur's ears rang with the sound of it.

"STAY DOWN, FREAK!"

Again he wondered: why?

Why do people treat me so badly?

Why is this my life?

He stared sadly down at the floor, wondering how many more kicks it would take until death came to fetch him. If they didn't stop, he figured it wouldn't be long. There was only so much a man as skinny as Arthur could take.

It felt like forever when the men finally left. But even as they darted off the train, still Arthur could hear them tittering, their voices thick with cruelty. Arthur meanwhile, stayed on the ground. The pain coursing through his body was ruthless. But even so, his thoughts wandered to the woman. She was safe. He might not have been able to physically stop those men, but laughter had proved just as effective a weapon.

Laughter had drawn those creeps away from her. He was glad he'd been able to help. He was no knight in shining armor, nor was he a fearless superhero. He was, however, a romantic at heart. Creeps and thugs wandered the streets of Gotham like hungry, greedy rats. If people like Arthur didn't step in to try and protect those preyed on by predators, then who would?

When he reached his stop and slowly stepped off the subway, Arthur stopped. It was nighttime. A light breeze kicked up, blowing his greasy brown curls across his forehead. He shivered, zipping up his brown sweater to ward off the autumn chill. Above him sat the moon, lounging about in a starless sky.

He tucked his hands in his pockets, staring aimlessly skyward.

He and the woman on the subway hadn't spoken a single word to each other.

Yet he couldn't get her out of his head. Something about her he just couldn't shake. Unlike all the others he bumped into day to day, she hadn't shaken her head in disapproval when he'd been visited by another one of his laughing fits. Not even a little. Nor had she sneered and laughed at him like he was the definition of a pathetic joke.

Arthur's lips curled up in a small smile.

In the few minutes he'd known her, one thing he felt sure of: she was different.

He wished he could see her again. But he knew that wasn't likely. Gotham was a big city. The odds of bumping into her again weren't in his favor.

And yet still, this didn't stop lonely Arthur from hoping all the same.