Hello again, audience. :) Hope you enjoy.
She smiles warmly and extends her hand, which I shake slowly.
"I don't understand." I say, looking down. "You seem... okay with the fact that the Joker is keeping you here."
"Oh, the Joker and I go way back." She smiles at a memory, and I frown.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I treated him at Arkham for some time, until he escaped. It's actually a relief to know that he is safe."
"What?" I'm shocked, and I try to focus on keeping my voice down. "How can you use the word 'relief'? Wouldn't it be a relief to be away from him, unharmed?"
"To some." She looks away. "But to others, perhaps doctors like myself, can grow to care about their patients. To care about their wants, needs, and overall well-being. Mr.-" Her eyes snap back to mine. "The Joker is one of those cases with me. His overall safety is part of my concern. I can handle him." She seems confident, and I bite my lip.
I can't help the almost bitter feeling that crawls up inside of me when she speaks of him. It's not quite jealousy, but it's close. It's also a mix of something close to misunderstanding. I didn't think that psychiatrists allowed themselves to get so attached to their patients. Especially psychotic killers like the Joker. I thought that they would sort of be on a type of 'red alert,' I suppose.
"Listen, Melanie." She stares at me with a determined look in her eyes. "The Joker is the most unique case I've ever seen. More unique than Jonathan Crane-"
"Wait." I interrupt her. "Who's Jonathan Crane?"
"He used to work with me in Arkham. He was a brilliant psychiatrist, and a brilliant chemist. However, he became obsessed with his experiments. Especially fear. He began using a gas that he created to dredge up his patients' worst fears. He soon became infected with the gas himself." She pauses for a moment, her eyes glassy and she seems absorbed in her story. "He is now known as the Scarecrow." She glances back at me, and tilts her head. "Did I say something that upset you?"
My mind is reeling in shock. It seems like everyone in Gotham had heard of the legendary Jonathan Crane. I had always wanted to meet him myself, but who ever heard of a struggling journalist meeting a successful psychiatrist? He was the Scarecrow? Why am I surrounded on every side by villains? To think that when I was fighting with the Scarecrow, I was actually fighting with Jonathan Crane!
Harleen leans forward and takes my hand.
"Are you alright?" She asks again.
"Yeah." I manage to stammer. "That just... took me by surprise, that's all."
Her eyebrows furrow with concern, but she lets go of my hand slowly.
"Well." She continues. "As I said, the Joker is more unique than even Crane. If I could just see into his mind for a small moment, I could mark my place in the world of psychiatry forever." Her eyes gleam with determination, and I am drawn into her eagerness for a second.
"But don't you think it's a little, dangerous getting that close to the Joker?"
"Oh, please." She waves her hand dismissively. "Once you get past his wall, he's as harmless as a box of kittens."
I open my mouth to protest, but a loud noise from outside the room distracts me. My head snaps back to look at Harleen, and she meets my eyes quickly.
"Don't let him know we made contact, okay?" She whispers urgently, backing through our makeshift hole.
I nod my head quickly, scrambling to my feet, and tiptoe to the other side of the room when I realize the file cabinet is still away from the wall. I look frantically at the door, and panic as I see the knob begin to turn.
I react instinctively. I fall to the ground in a heap, and put my head down. Was I playing dead? I don't know. The door opens, and I lift my head slowly, trying to look innocent. A man I do not recognize stands in the doorway, and my eyes go wide. I shuffle backwards, trying to escape the stranger who is now walking toward me with a fierce look in his eye.
He is over six feet tall, and built like an ox. He is wearing a grimy white shirt, and I can see tattoos covering both of his arms.
I suck in a shocked breath, intending to scream for help when I realize I have no one to call out too. Maybe Harleen, but what were two slight females like us going to do to a huge man like this? Nothing close to damage.
"Get up." The man says harshly, stopping a foot in front of me. His voice is as deep as his body is menacing.
I nod my head frantically, but can't get up. My body feels like a puddle, and I have no muscle control. After a moment, the man yells it again, and my body locks down in terror.
I turn my head, and close my eyes when I begin to feel a different, more powerful awareness in my mind. Control of my muscles returns with something close to ferocity. I open my eyes, and look down, but don't see a physical change. The power is undeniable however, and I get to my feet quickly. The man grabs my wrist and my head whips back to look at him.
"Let me go!" I say harshly, spinning out of his grasp. I analyze the man before me. I could never have a chance with him hand to hand, but I can definitely evade him. A man that size can't be light on his feet.
He lunges for me, and I move to the side. I take off running past him, and fly out of the small room. When I make it to the main room, I don't see anyone, and my eyes search for anything to defend myself with. I see crates, and rope. Nothing super useful. Then I remember the catwalk.
I sprint across the room, reaching the ladder when the large man enters. I climb up quickly, and get an idea.
"Hey, stupid." I call. "Why don't you go bother someone you're actually capable of catching, huh? Maybe a toddler? I hear they can't run very fast." I sneer down at him.
The man curses, and starts climbing the rungs. A small part of me wants to run, but I know what I'm doing. I wait for his hands to reach the top, and just before he can pull himself up, I stomp down on his fingers.
He yells out, instinctively bringing his hands to his mouth, and begins to fall backward. His eyes go wide, and he reaches out toward the rungs, barely grasping them. His eyes meet mine, and they are filled with his rage.
BANG!
The man's eyes become shocked, and he looks down slowly, staring at the red beginning to bloom beneath his shirt. He turns to look at me again, and after a short moment, his fingers release the rungs, allowing him to fall backwards almost in slow motion.
My eyes close, and I hear the sickening thump of his body hitting the ground beneath me. The sound causes my head to start spinning, and I feel nausea begin to creep its way into my stomach.
The Joker's laugh echoes throughout the room, distracting me slightly, and I can hear his irritation breaking through his amusement.
"Well, well, well, Lane." He says, as I open my eyes. He is standing across the room, putting a gun into his pocket. "I leave you alone for a measly ten minutes, and look at all of the trouble you cause for me."
"For you?" I ask, confused.
"Yes! Do you know how hard it's getting to replace my goons? And when I think I finally found someone, you do this." He gestures to the bottom of the ladder, and I refuse to look.
"But... I didn't do anything!" I say, my muscles becoming weaker. My head is really beginning to spin, and my stomach churns with discomfort. My legs feel weak, and my vision blurs slightly.
"Oh yes you did, Lane. The evidence is right in front of you. Now come down here. I need to speak with you about a little something."
The room is spinning still, making it hard to concentrate, and I am becoming more confused. The joker's words aren't making much sense. Why was I here? How did I get up here? Where was Harleen? Wasn't I just talking with her?
"Lane! Now." He growls, and I look down at him. I get onto the ladder slowly, trying to figure out the weird blankness of my mind, and climb down. When I reach the bottom, I turn, and gasp loudly, my hand flying to cover my mouth.
I stumble backward a few feet, and trip over something, falling backward. I hit my head on a crate, and can't tear my eyes away from the body in front of me. There is something so incredibly familiar about it, and I feel a trickle of fear begin to crawl up my spine.
The Joker is in front of me in moments, his head tilted to the side. "Uhh, what'sa matter, Lane?"
I look from his face to the dead man and back several times, trying to process the scene. My mind is still confused as to how I even got here. Silently, I lift a shaking hand, and point to the body on the floor.
"Yes, Lane. I killed that man. You watched me. But, where's the-uh, problem?"
"I...You..." I look down at the floor, and try to think. The man was coming toward me, and I... faded. There's no other word to describe it. "I don't like this." My voice is shaky. "No, no no, I don't like this at all!" I look back up at him, and don't understand his speculating face.
"What don't you like, hmm? That I saved your silly little life again?" He doesn't sound amused.
"No! I don't remember! Don't you see? I am going crazy!" I shout, angry tears forming in my eyes. "It's all your fault! Why did you have to take me? Huh? Why not mess with somebody else's mind and tear it to shreds in the process?"
"What are you talking about, Lane? What, exactly are you forgetting?"
"That!" I say exasperated, pointing at the body. "I don't know how I even got out here! Last I remember I was-" I cut myself off, almost telling him that I knew about Harleen.
"Oh, don't worry. I remember it too." He winks at me, and smirks. Wait, ick. I'm not even going to think about what happened. "And you aren't going crazy, Lane! Just consider the memory loss a minor side effect."
"A side effect? Of what?"
"Scarecrow's gas." He states matter-of-factly, rolling his eyes back to my face.
"What?" I look down, thinking about the inhaler in my pocket. "But I didn't use it!"
"You didn't? Well, that's interesting." He muses quietly. "I watched you out there, and you were clearly under the-uh, impression of it."
"Well, what does that mean?" I look back up at him, seeing a smile growing on his face.
"It means that things are going to get a lot more fun!" He chuckles darkly. He pulls me up from the ground, and drags me into an open space. "Now. What triggered it?"
"I...Don't remember." I shake my head slowly.
He crosses the space between us quickly, and grabs my hair harshly. "Think." He growls in my ear. My mind scrambles to organize itself, and I let out a shaky breath. I close my eyes, and try to concentrate, but nothing happens.
"I really-"
"You do remember. Think, Lane."
I hear him reach in his pocket, and I remember the gun. My heart takes off with adrenaline from my fear, and my legs feel weak. I stumble a little, and try to maintain my balance. My eyes close.
I feel something as soft as a brush spread down my entire body. Chills follow the feeling, and it begins to grow. The power builds until I feel like I can't contain it. My eyes flash open, and target the Joker's hands. He has one on my wrist, and the other holds the gun.
I spin around, breaking his grip while throwing my hand out toward the gun. I twist it from his unsuspecting grasp, and skip three steps back, pointing it at his chest.
"Stop." I snarl. "I'm sick of this game."
A wicked smile grows on his face, and his eyes light up as he watches me. He chuckles to himself quietly, and puts his hands up, never breaking eye contact.
"Very good, Lane. I'm impressed."
"Stop it!" I shout. "What's happening to me?" My eyes are wide with anger, as I take in the details around me.
The Joker shifts his weight; a light above us flickers; the wall across the room is covered in sparkling dew-like droplets and green algae.
I hate this. I feel like a different person. The gun shakes, and the Joker answers my question in an almost serious tone.
"Easy, Lane. As much as I love this- Ah! Easy..." He pauses as I twitch the gun. "Just calm down." He says, beginning to walk forward.
He's going to try and take the gun. I already know his plan. I see the calculating look in his eyes, and it fuels my rage.
"I said, Stop!" My grip is now firm, and the gun does not shake. He smiles and a quiet chuckle escapes his lips, grating on my already fried nerves, and takes another step. His movement is extremely deliberate and his eyes confirm the challenge. I cock the gun, and he smiles wider.
"Do it." He goads, and takes another step. I narrow my eyes, and put my finger on the trigger. "Do it!"
I take a steadying breath to try to calm myself. It would be so easy to end this madness here and now. I doubt I would ever be arrested or anything for killing Gotham's most wanted. The world would benefit greatly from the loss of this one deranged clown. I can't begin to imagine the countless lives I would be sparing if I took him out of the equation. This madman who had taken my mediocre little life and turned it into something dark and chaotic. Making me into some angry person that turned into a psycho whenever she got afraid of something. He deserved to pay for his actions.
But.
If I were to give in now, I would be as bad as he is. Sure I'm not a psychotic serial killer, but I would still be considered a murderer. A killer. Someone that deserved to be locked away forever. I can't do it.
But I can pretend...
He takes another step, taking advantage of my hesitation, and I aim directly in front of him.
BANG!
The bullet hits the floor a few inches in front of his foot, and I smirk at his surprised twitch.
Now I'm out of surprises, and I am at a slight loss as to what my next move should be.
I can't let him get this gun. I can't let him gain control of this. I only see two options. I could either actually shoot him, or I could get rid of the gun. I choose option two.
I throw the gun behind me, and hear it clunk against something a moment later.
Wait. Now no one is in control. I see the Joker realize it at the same time as I do, and his mouth turns up at the exciting challenge. He lunges for me and I skip back a step in response. He frowns slightly, and tries again, which I evade. He begins coming at me from the side, over and over, flowing from one attempt to the next without a break, almost catching me twice. I notice that he is trying to herd me into a corner. He isn't attacking offensively, he is just trying to move me.
I decide it is time to act. I wait for him to lunge again, and duck beneath his arm. Before he recovers, I run past him crossing the room quickly. After a quick assessment, I see a large pile of crates, and begin to climb them quickly. I pause as I reach the top, and turn around. I'm surprised to find the Joker on the other side of the room rather than right behind me. He is leaning down and reaching for something on the ground.
The gun.
I climb down the opposite side of the pile, and hide behind the crates. My mind scrambles to try to find an escape, as I hear him begin to make his way toward me.
"Big mistake, Lane." He chuckles quietly. "Now what are you gonna do? Hmm?"
My eyes dart around the room, and time slows for a moment. I hear each of his footsteps and even the shallow sound of his breathing. I'm stuck. I have no idea how to get out of this. He has a loaded gun, and I am unarmed, sitting on a crate.
The Joker would never fall for the whole catwalk stunt. I can't use the rope I saw earlier. He would shoot me before I got to it. Even with my senses at their peak, I can think of no way out.
My entire body gives up. I feel drained both emotionally and physically. Dizziness and nausea come crawling back, and my head drops in defeat. It feels like the room is spinning, and I feel the power and rage melt out of my system.
After a few moments, I lift my head up groggily and am surprised to see the Joker standing in front of me again. My eyes go wide when I realize he has a gun pointed directly at me.
"Wait!" I cry. "What are you doing?"
He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes search mine.
"Well, well, well." He says after a few moments. "That's... interesting. Tell me, what were we just talking about?"
I think back and realize that it is actually rather difficult to figure it out. I feel a sense of... blankness that I don't understand. After a few moments of struggling, I remember the faded face of a man on a ladder looking down at himself...
"Did you kill somebody?" I ask slowly.
He shocks me even more by throwing his head back with a loud cackle that chills my bones. "Hahaha! I told you this was going to be fun! Catch." He throws the gun flying through the air, and it lands next to me with a strong thump. I shy away from the weapon, and look back at his face, confused.
"What am I supposed to do?" I ask, glancing between them.
"Simple. Shoot me." He crosses his heart in an "X" shape. "Right here."
"What?" I am purely shocked. "No!"
"Why not, Lane?" He asks in a happy tone.
"That's insane! I'm not going to play your games!" I say, climbing down from my perch. He pulls me back by my hair, and I suddenly get the urge to cut my hair short at the next opportunity because this whole hair-pulling thing is really getting old.
He pulls me close to his face, and his eyes probe mine. I have no idea what he's looking for, but he grunts in the back of his throat giving me no clues, and starts pulling me down the hallway toward 'my room.' He opens the door and shoves me inside almost harshly.
"I have a few things to think about, Lane. Why don't you, uh, take some time and do the same, eh?"
The door closes loudly, and I look down, lost in thought. I can only think of one thing he really needs to think about and that is my weird mood swings.
I have a bad feeling that he is going to try and mold me into some bad criminal, and hope that he is unsuccessful. I notice that now, my memory is definitely improving and I can semi-remember the stunt with the gun. And if my memory is improving, that means that I also may be able to still be me, right?
I am going to need to try and practice keeping control. But that means delving into that other awareness openly, and I'm not sure I can do that without being lost. If I practice enough, I can hope to be able to gain some sort of control eventually, right?
But how do you even begin to control chaos?
To that I have no answer.
Okay, so what did yo uthink? like it/ hate it? Have an idea or advice? let me know! Who can't wait for Dark Knight rises? :D