Hey Saints & Sinners! CJzilla here with another chapter! In this update, Joker makes his debut! But all is not well in Gotham's favorite loony bin... Enjoy!

As I rampage all over this city, alls CJzilla Has to roar is this: R&R! Love... Hate... Review...

AN: I own nothing of Mr. Nikas or "The Batman"!

"No mater what I do my dentist always hurts my fillings."

Alberto Nikas
Computer Scientist

Chapter 2

Bedlam In Arkham

A loud buzz rang through Arkham Asylum. It was the dinner bell. Doors normally locked were opened and offenders dressed in matching white uniforms steadily entered the cafeteria. Officers were positioned at every corner, every doorway and every ten feet or so. Armed with knockout gas and nightsticks, the guards silently watched all inmates with stern eyes as the first grabbed his trey. Basil Karlo gripped his bright red food trey and moved it along the metal grate. As green beans, collard greens and some disgusting boiled boneless chicken was shoved onto plates and onto his trey, the amateur actor turned supervillain frowned. He hated Arkham.

The huge brick building was a pain. Its walls seemed to be endless yet with limit. You could walk the entire length of the building in a day but never see all of its halls. At least he could walk the halls now. Four weeks ago, when he was captured and put back into Arkham, he was relegated to a single cell. No privacy, no visitors, no mail, no nothin'. Yet Basil managed to keep it together long enough to get some perks; dinner in the mess hall being one of them.

Sitting at a random table, Basil eyed his food with disgust. Four weeks down, forty years to go. Again he had the prospect of living out his years in an asylum, seen as nutcase freak that never had a chance at his acting dream. From what everyone told him, he had no shot at being an actor… even before he went supervillain. Basil never believed it but now that he was known as the supercriminal Clayface, he'd have absolutely no luck attaining his dream.

Then another inmate plopped down in the seat across from him. Basil looked up to see Oswald Cobblepot, also known as the bird-based supervillain Penguin. The chubby and rude man sat in a huff, his belly shaking the table. Basil gave a quiet sigh as he frowned. Watching "Ozzy" eat was a sure-fire way to get rid of his appetite.

"Hey Mudface." The homely redhead squawked. Basil's frown deepened as Oswald twisted a finger in his ear.

Suddenly another inmate came to the table, or rather… flipped onto the table. Master thief and triple-jointed contortionist Peter Merkel somersaulted onto the table and giggled gleefully. Known as Ragdoll, the skinny sandy-haired man dropped gracefully into the seat next to Basil. He looped a friendly arm around the amateur actor's shoulders.

"Basil! Oswald! Fancy meeting you here!" Peter beamed. At the livid scowl on Basil's face, the master thief laughed.

Hopping over the table, he sat next to Ozzy and slid his tray in front of him.

"Sheesh, Mudface." The ex-billionaire Oswald Cobblepot spoke through the food in his mouth. "You look like you swallowed something."

Basil couldn't help but look at the portly man's jagged teeth and the food rolling around in his open mouth.

"It's Clayface, Cobblepot." He corrected on a hiss. "And how can I swallow anything with you sitting across from me?"

A clueless look surfaced on Ozzy's face as he continued to chew loudly.

"Now, now; let's not be tying each other in knots." Merkel spoke up, coiling his body in a sickening twist. "After all… we'll be seeing a lot of each other for the next forty years or so."

Basil shut his eyes in an attempt to block out the image of Merkel eating with his head tilted to an extreme angle. This was going to be a long sentence.

Dropping his eyes to his tray of food, the man's frown never lightened. Angrily grasping his plastic spork, Basil really wanted to get his moldable hands over the throat of the man who put him back in this hellhole. And as if on cue, the hinges of a worn door shrieked open. All eyes sprang up and passed through the chain-link barrier between them and a separate eating area. Four large guards stepped into the adjacent area and gave every other inmate an icy glare. As soon as they saw it was safe, they disappeared through the door and several other footfalls were heard. Peter Merkel giggled.

"Well, well. Look who's coming to dinner." The contortionist quipped and though there was a smile on his face, his eyes were sharp with anger. Oswald growled and held his green eyes to the doorway.

Then four guards and two orderlies lead in one of Arkham's most dangerous and hated offenders.

"Joker…" Basil hissed, his grip becoming harder on his plastic eating utensil. The deranged harlequin's appearance was infamous.

A lithe man with long green hair, wearing a straight jacket and a wicked smile, this was the bizarre appearance of a maniacal harlequin whose unnerving instinct for the absurd earned him a reputation as the most dangerous criminal in the annals of crime. Joker slowly limped his way across the tiny corridor, his entourage of mental health workers close to his sides. Basil, Merkel, Oswald and most of the other supervillains in the cafeteria couldn't help but scowl. Within the last month, it was Joker who landed most of them behind bars.

"Oooo!" Merkel spoke, thickly sarcastic. "And he gets a private meal."

Ozzy hissed.

"Well if he ate with us, there'd be Black-Eyed Joker on the menu." The portly man grunted under his breath. "Looks like they ain't takin' any chances with Jokester."

Basil wished that Joker would be in the same room with him. That way, he could smear that pale face all over the walls.

Then the harlequin lifted his red eyes from the floor in front of him and panned quickly across the neighboring mess hall. His toothy smile on his permanently white-painted face seemed to grow larger when he saw all of the stares and glares. Joker chuckled as his glance finished. The madman knew he was hated and their hatred was something for him to laugh at.

Basil Karlo felt rage boil inside of him. Taking a handful of the collard greens on his tray, the amateur actor hurled it as hard as he could at the chain link divider. Due to his poor aim, the food struck one of the guards but not before slightly splattering on Joker's white straight jacket. Gasps rang out as guards rushed over to subdue Karlo.

"JOKER!" Basil snarled as he picked up his tray and threw it as well. "YOU'LL PAY FOR LOCKING ME UP!"

Joker watched as Basil Karlo was jumped by three officers and wrestled to the floor. The harlequin managed a short pause in his tender gate as the man was hauled back to his feet, held in a pressure hold by the guards. Basil's face and front was covered with food while Ragdoll and Penguin looked stunned. Now that was funny enough to merit one of Joker's signature laughs. The madman threw his head back and burst into ecstatic laughter.

Basil heard every second of Joker's guffaw as he was pushed toward the exit of the cafeteria. Catching one last glimpse of Joker's twisted face stretched in laughter, the redhead snarled loudly. Someday soon, he'd make sure that Joker would never smile again.

Just as soon as Basil was carted out and doubtlessly back into solitary confinement, the mess hall went back to normal. Trays clanked together and the depressed feet of inmates shuffled along the hard floor. Joker couldn't keep his giggles down. Good ol' Karlo! Always good for a laugh!

"Knock it off, Joker." One of the guards warned. Joker looked up at the man. "Don't antagonize them. It won't take much to rush the gate and tear you apart."

The harlequin settled his arms within his straight jacket, his smile never deviating.

"It's not my fault that they can't take a joke." Joker gave his protector a dark smile. The guard shook his head.

As the orderlies set him down at his separate table, they unbuckled the man from his straight jacket.

"I want a Lemon de Sol with crème fresh and..." Joker took a finger-full of the collard greens on his pants and stuck it in his mouth. "Mmm! And some of the stuff Karlo threw at me. And don't skimp on the sour cream this time!"

Reeling in his seat, the harlequin laughed heartily at his own joke. One of the guards merely rolled his eyes and walked off to get a tray for the most hated inmate in all of Arkham. Joker's laughter quieted but his giggles did not. Holding his aching shoulder, the man had to keep the guffawing to a minimum; at least that's what the resident doctor told him. Three weeks ago, he was pretty mangled in a fight between him, Penguin and Freeze. His shoulder had a hole that you could fit your fist through. Among various other cuts, bruises and scrapes, Joker had a concussion and a couple of broken ribs. The pain was easy to laugh off.

The arch nemesis of the Batman had a lot to laugh about these days. He'd recently become the most hated person in all of Gotham; loathed by citizens and super-criminals alike. Why? Well, there was a little insider's joke to that. You see, a little over a month ago, the Batman was hospitalized after battling Penguin and Mr. Freeze. The Caped Crusader was in no shape to fight crime. So who kept Gotham safe while he recovered AND captured criminals like Basil Karlo, Peter Merkel and Oswald Cobblepot? The Harlequin of Hate, the Nemesis of Order, the Clown Prince of Crime… the Joker himself. Seeing that his best friend and favorite sparring partner needed a helping hand, Joker donned his Laughing Bat costume. Under that poorly stitched cowl, the harlequin took on the Batman's responsibilities and made sure that his Bat Buddy's work didn't pile up.

At the end of a month, the Laughing Bat challenged Penguin and Freeze, the very same criminals to land his best friend into intensive care, to a fight. Several punches, ice-cubes and jokes later, the Batman made his debut back onto Gotham's streets. Seeing no need to be a crime fighter anymore, Joker reverted to his same old self. So now here he was again… in Arkham; his home away from home.

Suddenly one of the beepers on an orderly's belt buzzed. Joker looked over to the young man as he drew the device from his waist.

"86 dinner, Joker." The youth's brown eyes met the criminal's red ones. "The doctor just paged me. He wants you back in the medical wing for a checkup."

The harlequin quirked a brow. He'd all ready had a check up this week; going for two was pretty unusual. Joker passed it off though and rolled his eyes.

"I hope there's a sponge bath and a lolly waiting for me." A smile cracked across his face again. The orderly shuddered as he helped his fellow staff to fasten the straight jacket to the super criminal again.

Joker got to his feet and was casually led out of his private lunch room.

The other offenders watched on with curiosity as the harlequin left without eating. Ozzy was the first to speak up.

"Huh… Joker just came to dinner just to get a rise out of Mudface and leave?" The bird-based villain shoved another spork-full of food into his mouth. "I know the food's not good but he's definitely one fruit loop short of a full box."

"He wouldn't be Joker without his mind tied in knots, Pengy." Merkel responded. Ozzy scowled on his collard greens.

"Jokester messed with nearly every villain in Gotham." The twenty-something portly man grunted. "If Mudface don't get him… someone else will."

Just then another supervillain joined the spiteful cafeteria. A tall, handsomely fit man stepped into the doorway. He wore white like the rest save for a black full-face mask adorning his head. Immediately he commanded the attention and fear of the room. Bane. He wasn't known by anything else but that sinister noun. The South American mercenary passed his unseen eyes over the mess hall, immediately icing up everyone with fear.

Bane's head and thusly his eyes seemed to have settled on the adjacent eating area. The man made fists and everyone then knew what he was thinking, or rather… who he was thinking of. You'd have to be completely bonkers to want to cross the merc's path. Bane took his superpowers from an experimental serum that grants super-human strength. Sadly, he was without it now. Captured by the "Laughing Bat" and incarcerated to Arkham, you could only guess at the man's displeasure. Only Joker, the most insane of all criminals, dared to take on Bane. And the merc missed the harlequin by mere seconds. Grunting sinisterly, Bane snatched a tray and got his food.

Merkel and Ozzy fought off their fear and continued with their meal. Joker was as lucky as he was crazy. Who knows what would happen if Clayface or Bane ever got their hands on him?

Joker was walked into a sterile white room inside of Arkham's medical wing. The orderlies had left him and let the officers lead him into the examination area. The harlequin moped as he shuffled around. The room was a sight as familiar as it was boring. There were no sharp medical devices to be seen; only a simple doctor's examination bench and chair. It was wise though, Joker reasoned, to keep all sharp tools out of his hands. Aside from cutting out of his leather straight jacket, a good, sharp scalpel would provide hours of fun.

Joker walked to the examination bench and jumped up on it, the wax paper crackling under him. He smiled as a flurry of wicked ideas flooded his twisted mind.

"For my next big "thing"," the clown beamed at the nearest guard, "I think I'll get into the medical business. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine."

He relished the looks of fear as they surfaced on the officers' faces. Then the door opened, causing the men to jump. In walked Arkham's resident doctor and the brown-eyed orderly following him.

"Good evening, Joker." You could hear the life-time of cigarettes in the doctor's voice.

"Evenin' doc!" The harlequin gave a wide smile as he watched the man approach. "Fancy seeing you again!"

Taking his eyes off of his clipboard to peer over the brim of his glasses at the crazed man, the doctor shrugged slightly.

"I am concerned about the health and wellbeing of all, including you Joker." He responded. "Which is why you are here."

The clown cocked his head at the doctor.

"What's goin' on this time, doc?" Joker questioned, recoiling his feet onto the examination bench. The doctor glanced up from his clipboard and clicked his tongue.

"I'm worried about your shoulder." He explained, reaching forward and placed a hand on the criminal's bound shoulder. "Your last blood test showed that there are still a lot of infectious bacteria in your body. This wouldn't have happened if you'd gotten to a hospital right after your injury…"

The doctor looked Joker square in the eye. The madman rolled his red eyes.

"Yeah, yeah… You said that the last time." Joker nodded it off. The doctor snorted.

"Then allow me to reiterate again, Joker." He took his hand from the clown's shoulder. "You'd be well on your way to recovery if you'd only gotten help for yourself."

With that the doctor turned and walked tapped his pen on his clipboard. Unbeknownst to him, Joker was making faces at him.

"So I will have to give you a dose of antibiotics." He walked to the door but stopped beside at the orderly. "Mr. Splash, you may administer the antibiotic shot."

Joker snickered at the orderly's bizarre last name and watched the brown-eyed boy nod. Then he caught the last word of the doctor's sentence.

"Shot?" The harlequin echoed, quirking a brow. The doctor turned and gave a nod.

"That's correct." Joker's face twisted with childlike confusion, meriting a laugh out of the medical professional. "It will only hurt for a second."

His smile readily returned at the mention of the worn-out medical cliché.

"Just pointing out," the clown nearly laughed again, "that I usually get a pill and a slap on the back. If you give me a shot… I expect a lolly AND a smiley face sticker!"

The doctor gave a pity smile.

"I have stickers..." The medical professional nodded away the young orderly and then returned his eyes to Joker with another ironic grin. "But they're all of the Batman."

Joker's smile tripled.

"Sweet!" He hooted as he flopped backwards, lying on the examination table. "Then poke me!"

A second of silence from the doctor.

"Mr. Splash will take care of you, Joker. I've got other patients." With that the medical professional left the room, closing the door. Joker just laughed.

A Batman sticker! How funny! It would be good to admire a memento of his best friend. That is before he'd stamp it into the floor. Seconds later, the boy walked. Sitting up the villain spotted an alcoholic swab and a large hypodermic needle in the young man's hands. Raising his eyebrows, the giggling criminal's grin waned.

"My… what a big needle you have, Mr. Splashes!" Joker quipped, looking at the orderly. The brown-eyed orderly gave an annoyed frown.

"It's "Splash", Joker. How many times do I have to tell you?" Then a mocking smirk came to the boy's youthful face. "Don't tell me that the most feared and hated criminal in all of Gotham is afraid of needles?"

Joker immediately laughed.

"Needles? Ha!" The harlequin leaned into the boy's face. The orderly's blood ran cold at the depth of insanity he saw in the Joker's eyes. "The only thing I fear… is a bad joke."

Again, without really trying, Joker made another person nearly wet themselves. Reeling back, the villain guffawed. Snapping on a pair of sterile gloves, the youthful orderly gave a sarcastic laugh.

"Now hold still. This is gonna hurt you more that it's gonna hurt me." The boy rolled his brown eyes. Joker fought off a laugh as he sat perfectly still.

With a cool alcohol swab felt on his neck, Joker waited for the inevitable prick. He felt the needle sink into his skin and linger there for a few moments as Mr. Splash administered the antibiotic. The uncomfortable pain was drowned out by the prospect of getting a sticker of his bestest best bud, the Batman. As Joker stared at the floor his brain went strangely numb and fuzzy. He couldn't resist unconsciousness as it folded over him.

The orderly and guards watched Joker's twisted smile fade and his eyes close before he reeled off of the bench and collapsed onto the floor. The brown-eyed orderly huffed and carefully held the syringe away from him.

"I thought he'd never shut up." The boy grunted before tossing a glance over his shoulder at the officers. "Keep an eye out for the doc."

The guards, who were on Black Mask's pay-role, rolled their eyes.

"Just make it quick, kid." One barked. "We still need to get Joker out of here without anyone knowing."

The orderly scoffed and pulled a vial of a sinister orange liquid from his coat's pocket. Plunging the spent syringe into the rubber membrane of the small jar, the youth filled the hypodermic with the sinister fluid. With a spiteful smirk, the orderly pulled the syringe free. With one motion, he sunk the needle into the back of Joker's thigh. Easing down the plunger, the boy pushed the NoiGon toxin deep into the villain's flesh, just as Black Mask ordered.

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