Joker
Story One: The Start of a Joke
Chapter Four: Conception
Greetings ladies and maniacs! Thank you for making it this far, for lack of a better word, sane. Chapters Four and Five are in themselves two-parters in which everything changes and the story moves on dramatically. There will be love, loss, deception, defeat, escape, capture and most of that which I have listed is a lie. I'm not telling you anything, you'll just have to find out for yourselves. Please enjoy!
Side Note: Thank you to Keywee for your continuous and complimentary reviews and insight into your own story. I hope you enjoy (and anyone else reading this, go read Keywee's story).
"I don't want to do this."
"It'll only take a moment."
"We did this last time, and the dream hasn't changed. Why do you want to hear something I've told you a hundred times over? It's boring, even for me."
"While you may not realise it, details appear or change that fascinate me. Besides, I thought you were becoming interested with the inner workings of the mind. Are you not as interested as I?"
"I'd just rather you get rid of them and not just 'think' all the time. It gets annoying."
"To remove, I have to treat. And to treat, I must have a diagnosis. And to diagnose, I must study and study involves thinking. Just try again. Concentrate. Start from the beginning and omit nothing."
"Fine. I'm sitting in my room. It's dark but there's light coming from the walls. It's like they're reflecting light...but where from? I don't know, it's a little fuzzy."
"You're doing quite well. Continue."
"So, I see that there's no door but I'm not worried 'cos I figure that's always been like that in the dream."
"Concentrate on the reflections, what do you see?"
"When I try to see myself, I can't. They're blurred. I can see myself, but I'm different. I'm more...bent. When I try and lean in to get a closer look, the wall ripples like water and then cracks. These faces burst out of them. They're..."
"Go on."
"...they're awful. They each have an expression; fear, unhappiness, anger. Before I can see them all staring down at me, they all start moaning in their emotions. They drag the walls in closer, I can't breathe. I'm trying to stay away but there is less and less room to move. When there's nowhere to go and the noise is too much, the floor shatters...and I fall. I'm almost glad, but then I see the faces following me. They circle me, falling faster than I am. The wind is hurting my face. When the mirror pieces reach me, I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection. I'm..."
"What do you see, J?" asked Strange. He was practically on the edge of his seat.
"I'm...laughing. Happy. But I look like them...except I'm happy." J sighed, glad he reached the end of the events of his dream. "Then I wake up and that's it."
"You're sure?" Strange noted this down on his clipboard. "Hmm. This is fascinating. Do you realise how much your dream has changed since you were a much younger boy? Half a decade ago, you showed signs of disturbed dreaming states based on events you lived through dating back to the crib. It was only a couple of years ago that these non-fictional nightmares contorted into fantasy until now, we have a completely new mental reverie. All with one remaining constant; the clowns. Coulrophobia is a pretty common fear in society, but it afflicts you differently than most others. Where people see it as a form of anxiety, horror and terror...you seem to rejoice in it. The strength of whatever drives these dreams to the forefront of your mind is what keeps you alive every day." He became aware that he was thinking out loud. He didn't mind J knowing any of this, but it was having an effect on his experiment. Since he had felt comfortable to do so, Strange had noticed that J had picked up on certain psychological terminology and methods that he had now become quite familiar with. At first, he had been apprehensive about how much J learned directly from him as an outsider, contaminating his subject with alien knowledge but recently, Strange had warmed to the idea to find out what J could learn. Perhaps he could entice him into helping Strange with his experiment. "What do you know of the mind?" Strange asked, trying to openly gauge J's interest. "I can tell you that the mind is not as complex as everyone thinks. We're quite simple to read, human beings. It just takes a unique mind to understand. What can you tell me about me?" he smiled. "Please speak up, I'm interested in your opinion." J glanced at the two guards standing either side him. In the five years since these interviews had begun, he had tried with great difficulty to not aggravate his captor. Could he contain the opportunity to openly lash out now?
The answer was no.
"You say you are a professor." He said carefully. Strange nodded.
"I am a professor. Professor Hugo Stran-"
"No. You say 'professor', but you're not." Hugo leant slowly back into his chair. "You don't know people; you just make stories about us and say that it's true. The only thing you have is a voice that too many people listen to. It's a shame that people who talk listen to a man who can't hear."
It had probably been worth it, at least in J's mind. Clemens however thought otherwise. After treating the severe burns the boy had suffered being roughly treated by his personal guard, probably at the request of Hugo himself, Clemens had done some digging into what the cause was. He had to admit, he almost smiled when he heard that J had openly insulted that egomaniacal quack but that was as much pleasure as he got from it. For the last five years since aiding in J's escape attempt, Strange had been dividing the pair for obvious and some not so obvious reasons. Wherever he could, Clemens would still lend assistance to J and Garber. Together, the two had staged dozens of escape attempts over the last five years with J being the main instigator. Strange hadn't shown any signs of anger towards the boy for this and neither had much happened. Sure, there was some kind of test or experiment Professor Strange liked to start but he would move on. There couldn't be much left, so by default, all this could come to an end in a matter of days. What would happen to J then? "Retired." Stated Strange simply. He had used that terminology many times before and had on all of those occasions left Clemens to carry out the order.
"Just like that?" Clemens couldn't accept it. Not this time.
"Yes. He knows too much, just being alive jeopardises my career as well as yours. I expect you to take care of that business without question when we come to it."
"Wrong. I always knew you were a cold-hearted son of a bitch, Strange, but this takes the cake." Hugo seemed almost amused as Clemens continued on. "It may not have occurred to you with that eagle-eye mind of yours, but perhaps I regret many of the things I've had to do for you. Maybe with all this time I've had to think about what I have done, I've sorted out priorities. Quite frankly, I would rather be out of a career than kill that boy. Do you understand me?"
"Indubitably." Replied Strange simply. "I think it's time for another experiment for our dear Subject J." he said, turning on his feet. "You will not be required...for the test, that is." Clemens took this as his cue to leave. Whatever Strange was planning, he had to think of something to keep J safe. That night, he was not the only one having trouble sleeping. The occupant of cell I had been tossing and turning for some time now. At an estimate, he guessed that by now he was somewhere in his early forties which made him the oldest inmate in Strange's lot. After Kline bit the bullet a few months back, that's when Garber really started to feel old. These walls, these people, the constant peering over your shoulder to make sure there wasn't a knife in your back was taking its toll. Being on edge for years on end would drive any man mad, but it had been up to him to look after J for the last five years. With Clemens being phased out of his life, the pressure was all coming down on this poor man. On the last few escapes, Garber had even refused to follow J. He said that it would slow him down, but perhaps there was another reason. He had grown to feel safe behind these walls and if the outside world was anything the way he remembered, it probably wasn't so crazy to end up in a place like this. All these thoughts running through his mind made for a horrible night's sleep. When he woke up, it startled him to see the two round-rimmed spectacles peering through the slot of his cell door. He hoped it was a nightmare, because then he would wake up and everything would be fine. As it dawned on him that it was not, the cell suddenly and coldly became a much less safer place in his mind. This was what he had been dreading all this time, what he knew would happen from the moment he befriended that little boy all those years ago. Like his age, it had snuck up on him and here it was, rearing its ugly head and waiting to strike. It would be soon and it would be quick. The eyes hiding behind those glasses disappeared and the slot closed. It had been a warning of what was to come. Now at least, Garber didn't feel much like sleeping. He would have all the time to do so soon enough.
J watched as the food went untouched. Garber had been unusually quiet today and had barely looked anyone in the eye. Olufsen and Hatzi had noticed it too. "Garber, if you ain't gonna eat that, then share it 'round." Said Hatzi. Instead of some kind of insulting retort, Garber just slid his food on down the table. "What are you doing?" asked an incredulous Hatzi. "I was joking with ya. I don't want this stinkin' food. What's the matter with you?"
"You haven't said a word all day." Enforced Olufsen. "What's eatin' ya?" Garber just sighed. There was nothing they could do and to be honest, after all these years, he had nothing to say to them.
"M'kay." Nodded Hatzi. "I get it. If you don't wanna talk, we'll make ourselves scarce. C'mon Ol'."
"Hatzi, what are ya doing?"
"I ain't sittin' here. We're not wanted." Hatzi rose from his seat and walked away. For a moment, Olufsen hesitated, just watching for Garber to refuse.
"Don't you crack." He said before following Hatzi. J also rose from his seat, but Garber's hand clamped itself around his arm and pulled him back down into the chair.
"You probably don't know what's going on. You might never understand why I never told you anything. I just want you to know that I tried my best...and I hope you get out. Get out before you end up like me." His breaths were becoming shallow.
"Wha-"
"Don't interrupt me!" Garber slammed his hands down on the table, knocking over the bowl of gruel. "Not now, I don't want you to say anything. I want to get this out before it's too late. I was frightened when I saw you sitting here on the day we met. I felt something that I haven't felt since my children were with me. I thought you were the most important thing in my life and that I would do anything to protect you. The reason why I was scared was because I failed the first time. My children and my wife, I couldn't protect them...from me. I want you to know how much I have tried to stand by you and how proud I am that you are the person you are today." He reached out and rubbed J's cheek. "I love you." Garber held back the tears. J was confused and scared. Why was he acting like this? Why now? Before he could ask, Garber sat back in his seat and looked around, a load seemingly lifted from his mind. "I'm gonna go get some more." He mumbled, picking up his now empty bowl and walking to the line.
The line was still quite long; many inmates were going back for seconds. It was unusually kind of Strange to allow them to have second helpings and there were rumours surrounding it. Some of them concerned the poisoning of the gruel, but that wasn't true. Only one amongst them knew why their breakfast regime had been extended to include another helping, and this man hadn't even eaten. He approached the cutlery table and produced from underneath the spoon tray a small, sharp knife. Exactly where he had been told it was. Concealing it underneath his bowl, the man scoured the line to find his intended target.
Garber had been given his seconds, or in this case, his firsts. He moved along to the cutlery table and retrieved a clean spoon for himself. That's when he felt the heavy breathing on his neck. He turned around and let out a sigh. "Okay." He said.
"I would be better if you didn't struggle." Said Apone as he put his bowl down on the counter, the knife visible in his right hand.
"I don't intend to. Just make it quick."
"Yes sir." And with one swift movement, the blade was no longer seen. It took seconds to the rest of the world. Only three people saw differently. In the end, Garber fell to the floor, almost peacefully. Apone turned around to face the stares, but saw only one. J had silently walked up to the scene and was silently crying with rage. "What?" spat Apone. The boy was too quick. In a flash, he dived atop the goliath and dug out the giant's eye with a spoon. Even the surrounding prisoners had great difficulty tearing the two apart, and in the confusion, the round optic was destroyed underfoot. One man watched and smiled, almost laughing.
"That boy has a wicked sense of humour." He said cheerfully.
"How do you surmise that?" asked a disgusted Clemens, still deep in shock by what he just witnessed.
"An eye for an I. It was like he'd had it in mind for years." Strange walked away from the window, replaying everything over in his mind. "Have security retrieve the knife. I want to know exactly how he got it."
"Of course you do." Scowled Clemens through gritted teeth. Selfish thoughts began flashing through his mind; how much longer until he went the same way? How was he still alive now after everything he'd done? Is this how it would all end? Now he knew that there could be no lengths great enough for him to stop this experiment. If he couldn't get help from the authorities, or from the staff then it was time he found assistance from experts in the asylum itself.
He had never seen Garber so calm. You might mistake it for sleep if all the colour hadn't drained from his face. The memory was still fresh in his mind, but J felt it slipping away as though waking up from a dream. He had to hold onto it to make sure it didn't leave even though it was so painful. J just stared down at the man who came close to being something of a father; his rounded face, the short greying hair, the lines across his face that betrayed his youth, the strong pair of comforting hands that would no longer be there to hold. The smile that would no longer show. Just as the memory was hard to remember, it was difficult to grasp that this person and everything about him would no longer exist. There was nothing in the world that J could do to bring it all back. Maybe not, but he could make things right. You could almost hear the words 'poetic justice' issue from J's lips as he felt the handle of Apone's blade resting in the tray beside Garber's slab. The long walk to the murderer's bed and the satisfaction of watching his face contort from pain to fear as he saw what fate, and indeed karma, had in store. One hand clasped over his empty eye socket and the other handcuffed to the rail, Apone could not escape this. It felt fantastic, all of it. The horror, the struggling, the pleasure of holding such power in the palm of one's hand. Shocking that such a small implement could cause so much pain and make a feared man collapse into a whimpering child. It kills a human before it is used, that is the 'miracle' of the knife. It tears down the defences of anyone and bears the true persona of the individual for the whole world to see. It was almost disheartening to see Apone pull himself together, whatever flimsy minute amount he could. "Go ahead. Do it." He shuddered. J leant right up to his ear, Garber's words blasting through his skull. Even Apone thought he could hear them.
"Why on Earth would I send you to the same place he is?" asked J condescendingly. "He's only just gotten rid of you." He pulled himself away from this horrible excuse for carbon. "You're not done suffering yet." He said, tossing the knife just out of Apone's reach. As J returned to his stool by Garber, he could hear Apone's grunts as he tried to reach for his only salvation. It overjoyed J so much to know that that man was in so much pain and anguish that he just had to smile. For a moment, he could swear that Garber's mouth twitched. Perhaps, wherever he was, he was enjoying this as much as J was. It all lasted until he was dragged away from his dear departed friend and escorted into the interview room. Strange was already there waiting for him, that intense stare cutting through the air, constantly surveying, constantly monitoring and always on J.
"Leave us." He ordered the guards and they naturally obliged. The two just sat in silence for a while. It was about the most intriguing interaction between the two, speaking volumes in a cold, hard silence. "So, how do you feel?"
"Fine."
"Hmm. Is that true?"
"No."
"I thought not."
"How do you expect me to feel?"
"That's the point of all this, J. I don't expect you to feel anything. I watch. I observe. I see your feelings when you experience them."
"I know you did this."
"I would think less of you if you didn't. How does that make you feel about me?"
"Angry."
"Good."
"Furious."
"Would you say you wanted to kill me?"
"No. Not at first." This just made Strange all the more happy. J would give anything to tear that smile from his face.
"I would like to venture a guess as to how you truly feel." Said Strange as he heaved a pile of files out from under the desk. "Thirty-seven escape attempts overall, none of them successful. The most promising one being your second. You've spent the last five years trying to get back outside and failed. Every time we counter the methods you have used, you find a way to get around them. We close up a ventilation system, you find the sewerage pipes. You pick locks, we replace them with electronic key code devices and yet you still manage to get through them. Up until several months ago, it was always you two trying to escape and then one day, Garber wasn't there. He was slowing down your escape and now that won't happen anymore."
"I would've taken him along the whole way."
"I think you're lying. I think deep down you're happy he's no longer with us. With you."
"No."
"Can't slow you down if he's dead, can he? He doesn't need to escape anymore. I reckon you're happy that the old man finally croaked. If I'd given you a few more weeks and kept Apone on a leash, you probably would've done the job for me-" J leapt over the table and went for Strange's throat. Hugo overpowered him, catching him mid-flight and throwing him into a wall. Dazed, J couldn't even grab Strange's hand as he pulled J by the hair, dragging him across the floor and slamming him down on top of the table. "You really do want to kill me...but not because you're angry I killed him. You're annoyed that you didn't get the chance yourself." J tried to reach out for Strange again, but he held down the boy's hands with ease. "Don't bother lashing out at me. It's no use. I'm much stronger than you."
"What do you want me to do then?" asked J, not really caring what the answer was. That is, until he heard it.
"Run. Do what you couldn't do with Garber. Your time is coming, J...and you're going to have to do it alone." He pushed J off the table and strode to the door. "Escort the subject back to his cell. Gently." He ordered to the guards outside.
All his research had payed off. Under the guise of checking up on patient health, it had been quite easy for Clemens to gain access to all the prisoner files without rousing suspicion. Churning through everyone he could find with any likelihood of escape had been with its challenges. This person had to be just right and could not be told exactly what their true purpose was. Clemens was here to talk to this man now. He wasn't ideal, but the best there was. I mean, who exactly would be ideal in this place? At least it seemed this man had the initiative, the insight and resources to pull it off. When the guards sat him down opposite Clemens, he couldn't help thinking that he looked like some sort of mythical figure, as if plucked out of history. "Speak." He said, irritated and with a hint of egotism.
"You are Terry Gene Kase?" checked Clemens.
"Mmm."
"At least, that's the name you were incarcerated under. You were captured trying to ignite the city's gas supply, Mr. al Ghul. You must have a lot of power to cut down a death sentence into an insanity plea."
"My followers and I feel it is time to cleanse this city of its criminal roots before they spread and choke out the fresh waters of civilised society."
"Right. Your 'League of...Assistance'." quoted Clemens.
"That's Assassins, doctor." Corrected Ra's.
"So it is." Accepted Clemens. "Someone has some bad handwriting."
"As much as you are enjoying this conversation, I would rather not waste my time discussing these details with you, considering you already have them in hand...even if they are somewhat untidy." Ra's prepared himself to leave.
"Are you planning a breakout?" asked Clemens openly. "I'm not here to stop you if you are. I'm here to help you."
"What makes you think I need your help?" questioned Ra's with much contempt. He saw this man as an insect; a fly caught in the spider's web.
"The cops captured a lot of your boys when you tried to blow up the city." He began with great subtlety. "I'm not sure of the numbers of your little club, but I'm sure it took a dent in manpower. Am I right? A breakout involving only you, that's feasible, but a breakout involving all of your guys? That ain't happening."
"What is your point, doctor?" Clemens leant in closer.
"I know how you can get them all out at once." He whispered. "Where to go, what you need to do. I can tell you...and I ask nothing of you in return."
"I am suspicious; a man of your position aiding a breakout with no incentive." Smirked Ra's, folding his arms. "Why should I trust you?"
"Let's just say that by doing this, you are already doing me a favour." He stood up and stretched out his arm for a handshake. "Do we have a deal?" Ra's stared up at Clemens for a moment, testing his gaze and judging his character.
"We have an agreement." He agreed and stood up himself. He knocked on the door and the guards waiting outside escorted him back to his cell. Clemens sighed in relief; it was done. He couldn't help feeling that he had made a deal with the devil that he may regret. When in Hell, he guessed. At least now there was a chance. A chance that J could finally be free and this experiment finally brought to an end. It would cost much, but it was worth it...he hoped.
Thank you for reading Chapter 4! Sorry for my tardiness, but I have only just recovered from a cold that threw me completely off my schedule. If you have any questions about this week's new addition, then please send me a Private Message or ask in the Review.
This one has been the most difficult to write, mainly for timing purposes, but also the layout of the story's end over the final two chapters. As you can tell, this chapter was the setup for the next, so I hope you are waiting in anticipation for the follow up; Chapter Five: Birth. Thanks once again for reading!