Disclaimer: I don't own the Joker or any of the other Batman characters used in my fic. They are all the property of DC Comics and are based on the characters in The Dark Knight. I only own the plot and any other characters that I may choose to include.
Chapter 2: A Little Push
A/N: Okay. Just so you know, I couldn't sleep all night, so this chapter was written at like 4:00 AM. Don't ask why. I have horrible sleeping habits. XD Now.... on with it!!!
Song: Dance With The Devil by Breaking Benjamin
At the most unexpected moments almost every day, the bone-chilling laughter erupted from the Joker's cell, echoing throughout the corridors. Several of the other prisoners began banging on the doors; some threatening the guards, cussing each other out, or just trying to get the damned clown to shut up.
"Shut the fuck up, you lunatics!!" one of the guards shouted, firing his rifle in an attempt to maintain order.
"I don't think that's gonna do anything but provoke them," Mark chimed, staring at the floor.
The other man sighed as the racket continued. "Yeah... I guess you're right."
It was about an hour before the prisoners quieted down, but the silence that followed actually... lasted.
The steady click, click, click of steel echoed down the hall, reaching the guards on duty. The sound, obviously, came from the Joker's cell, and the guards were growing tired of facing the mass-murdering clown day after day.
What the fuck is that? Mark thought, motioning for a few of the other guards to follow as he headed towards the Joker's cell.
He slid the card key into its proper place in the door, loading his rifle as the obnoxious buzz of the now unlocked door sounded. Backed by three other guards, Mark pushed the heavy door open and, surprisingly, found the Joker playing with a switchblade.
"How in God's name did you get that?" Mark demanded, pointing his rifle at the Joker.
"Hm?"
Mark glowerd at the clown. "I said, where the hell did you get that?!"
The Joker snickered, holding the knife loosely between two fingers, and humming a nonsensical tune that came out of nowhere. Mark edged his way into the cell, keeping the barrel of the gun on the Joker every second. "Answer the goddamn question, you bastard!! Where the fuck did you get that?"
This bastard was really starting to wear on Mark's nerves now, and he was itching to knock some sense into the deranged freak. Even if it meant killing him. Just looking at the man was like looking at the devil incarnate. He was clearly no ordinary criminal. Sure, he seemed to be human in appearance, but behind the mask or paint was a demon straight from the innermost bowels of hell. And it was clear to all who heard his voice, that he had no sense of remorse or empathy at all. He seemed to be somewhat sane, but he projected his bloodlust and desire to watch everything burn through everything he said and did.
"Well... if your security were a little tighter, then I wouldn't have gotten in here with this, now would I?" the Joker replied, nonchalantly tossing the knife around.
Just down the hall, the elevator doors opened, and Jeremiah Arkham stepped out, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. "What the devil is going on?" he demanded.
The door to the Joker's cell was open, he noted, and there was a rather large commotion coming from inside. To top it all off, it seemed that the clown had successfully managed to drive someone else over the damn edge. Without a second thought, Jeremiah headed right into the chaotic farce, trying to push his way through the small gathering of guards that had crowded around the door. The crowd suddenly dispersed, and the Joker could be seen holding one of the guards hostage with a switchblade through a fit of hysterical snickers.
Arkham was shocked. "What the hell is he doing with that?!" he demanded, staring in shock at the blade.
Ignoring the administrator's question, the Joker forced his hostage against the wall, finishing the "game" with one simple question. "Why so serious?"
Arkham then realized that it had been a mistake to venture too close to the brewing chaos, and found himself flat on his back, staring into the Joker's manic eyes. "Wh-what do you want?!" the man choked, feeling the tip of the blade at his throat. The very last thing he had expected was to be at the Joker's mercy.
"Well... There was a doctor employed here not too long ago. What was her name...?" The Joker's eyes lit up when her name rolled off his tongue. "Harleen Quinnzel."
Harleen Quinnzel.
Harlequin.
"She was supposedly locked up some time after Gotham ruined my fun with the ferries." His eyes were like those of a demon; dark, pursuing chaos and anarchy. It was as if Arkham were staring into the face of death's dark harbinger. "But the question is... where was she locked up? Hm?"
Jeremiah flinched as the blade was drawn a short distance against his flesh, drawing blood. "F-fifth floor," he choked. "Last door on the right... at the end of the first ha--" Arkham's words caught in his throat, drowning him with blood.
A smirk pulled at the corners of the Joker's scarred mouth. He leaned towards Jeremiah's ear, pulling the card keys from the man's shirt, and hissed. "Do you understand now? All it takes is a little push."
I wanted Harley Quinn to be in TDK, and was rather disappointed when she wasn't, which is why she will be in this fanfic. Please review. :D