This isn't the first time I've been faced with a dilemma, though it's usually something less daunting-like whether or not to kill Batman. Had I known, on that fateful day during my internship at Arkham, that I'd be here...
You know, I probably would have made the same decision, because believe it or not, I've been happy. The Joker certainly has...interesting ways of showing affection, but would you expect someone like him to be capable of cuddly, romantic love? I should say not. But he does love me. You might ask me how I know that. For starters, he hasn't tried to kill me...much. I know how he is. He's kept me around this long, and every now and again he'll show that he enjoys my company. Sometimes there's even a tender moment, however minuscule.
But you're right, whoever you are. He's a difficult one to love. My heart...I'll never understand entirely why it chose him, but here we are. It's complicated and exhausting. But we've had some really good times. And I'm happy.
But now all of that is being threatened.
The bonds on my wrists...I regain consciousness of them as I slip out of my daydream, and the gag in my mouth hurts. It's not made out of cloth-it's made of metal. Something metal. Steel wool? I don't dare move my mouth or try to scream. I've already learned my lesson from that. The room is dark, and the floor is cold and wet, and the whole place smells like feces, blood, and piss. The only sounds are what I assume to be rats scuttling about.
What, you may ask, is my dilemma? What decision could I possibly have to make in the current predicament?
They've got the Joker, too, you see. Who? No one you know. Someone working with Batman, but what he doesn't know is that they want him dead, too. I don't know what their ultimate goal is, and I don't care. Not now. Right now I've got to focus. I know that if I try and escape, they'll find me and kill me. My hope is that I can find the Joker first, and free him. He's stronger than I am. Smarter. He has more of a reason to live.
After a few minutes of finagling I manage to free my hands. I don't bother with my gag yet. I quickly unbind my ankles and stand up. My legs are wobbly, as I've been here several days without food or water, and without sleep. I'm weak, and I know that will work against me. I circle the room, feeling the walls as I go, searching for a door.
There isn't one.
I'm tempted to give up, but that last image I have of Mr. J flashes before my eyes again. He looked so helpless-strapped to a table, unconscious. Helpless.
I feel around my cell once more, and resolve to check the floor for something. The floor is as doorless as the walls, and I sit once more, thinking.How the hell did I get in here?I'd been on a table near to the Joker when they injected me with a tranquilizer, and I woke up here. I don't even know how much time passed between the two events.
The rats. I hear them again. It occurs to me that they aren't in my cell, but in the walls. Or, rather, in the ceiling.
The ceiling!
The ceiling itself is quite low, and if I stand on my toes I can brush it with my fingertips. So I do just that. I walk around the cell for what seems like ten minutes before I find anything. A tiny loop. I stick my finger through and yank. And yank. And yank. It gives way after a bit and a plank of wood falls, whapping me on the shoulder.
Light fills the room, and I squint for a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust. There is a hole in the ceiling. Hope fills me and feels like a drug, and my adrenaline rushes. I get a small burst of strength and jump, grabbing the edge of the floor above me and pulling. My arm strength isn't its best right now, but I manage. After a minute or two, I find myself lying on a carpet in a room filled with light and sweet smelling air.
It's a bathroom. There's no way of replacing the floorboard, so I ignore it and stand up, only to see myself reflected in a mirror. I look awful, as I'd expected. They chopped off most of my hair when I got here, thinking that would be traumatic for me. It wasn't. I no longer have makeup on, but am dirty and sweaty. They've got me in some sort of dingy white nightgown. But I'm focused on my gag. It's definitely metal.
Sighing through my nose, I exit the bathroom slowly and begin my search.