Chapter Eight- Deal Breakers
Author's Note & Recap : I'm incredibly sorry that I haven't updated in ages, but I've been dealing with some personal issues and fell off the rails a bit. However, I'm back together again and determined to finish this story since I have all the chapters worked out! One of my followers is writing a great Joker/Oc fanfic, so shout out to 'Misery Loves Company'by dr3amqu33n Seriously, check it out, it's amazing!
Anyways here's a quick recap just to remind everyone what is going on, just in case you've forgotten-
Alice tried to kill herself, ended up sharing a hospital room with the Joker who she has a strange admiration for. Alice is the child of the man who killed the Waynes, and was led to believe by Sionis it was their fault her father later died. However, the Joker helps her realise it was actually Sionis who got her father murdered, and furious Alice wants revenge.
Meanwhile Cash, Joker's main Guard, has to go back to the Asylum to recapture the inmate Killer Croc who bit off his hand. The inmate was released by Frank Boles who wanted to be the hero and recapture him, which would help him gain a promotion. However, Boles' plan backfires when he is instructed to guard the Joker, due to Cash and Croc's previous history.
Alice escapes her own handcuffs and helps Joker out of his binds. He then instructs her to murder a Nurse, since she owes him. Alice does so, thinking it was smart to be in his good books so she wouldn't get any nasty surprises later on in life. Unbeknownst to her, the Joker wants to keep her around as his new toy now Batman is in retirement. He wants to see her crack, then when he gets bored, he plans to kill her.
The Joker goes off to murder the Head Doctor who is having lunch with Boles, the Joker saw through Boles' scheme and tells him if he captures himself and Alice, his accomplice, the promotion is his. Boles agrees and lets the Joker brutally murder the Doctor.
Both Alice and the Joker go to the Asylum, however get split up. Alice stumbles across Jonathan Strange, aka Scarecrow, who has an interest in the Joker and is allowing her to be 'protected' for reasons unknown to her. In Alice's cell she comes across a 'Welcome' card written in blood, which she assumes is from the Joker.
PHEW! That was way longer than I thought, anyways, enjoy the new chapter!
I turned my spoon upside down and watched in disgust as the green slush fell like cement onto my tray.
"You going to eat it, or waste it?" Crane grumbled from across the table, his mouth full of his own food.
"You think it's supposed to be green, or it's just covered in layers of mould?" I asked staring revolted at the substances that contaminated my tray.
"Eat it and find out" Was his blunt suggestion.
I snorted at the very thought and looked up to him, towards his blank, expressionless face. Despite his appearance making him seem that he felt superior to all those around him- which, trust me, he did – whenever I saw the dull, glazed look in his eyes, I internally breathed a sigh of relief. It meant he was Jonathan Crane, and not the other entity which consumed him. An entity which I'd prefer never to encounter again. My bandaged hand throbbed at the memory.
It had been my first meal in Arkham, and I had spotted Crane sitting alone at a table. Wanting not only to avoid the obese monster of a woman, who had stood behind me in the food queue, repeatedly stroking my hair with her fat and greasy fingers calling 'honey muffin', but I also wanted to find out from Crane the way to freedom so I could avoid the previously mentioned monster-lady indefinitely.
I was in such a hurry to get away from her, that I hadn't realised that in a dining hall packed with tables full of deranged psychos, there was probably a reason he was the only person at an empty table. Fast-forward five minutes of my first supper and Scarecrow had not only tried but succeeded, in stabbing me with a plastic spoon. If I hadn't been the victim of the assault, I would've been impressed at the sheer amount of strength his skinny body possessed.
However despite the incident, I kept returning to sit with him. Which raises a whole new topic, out of the two of us, which one is crazier?
"Yeah somehow, I think I'll pass." I replied.
He shrugged stiffly, and took another spoonful of his mouth-watering tomato and basil soup, served with croutons and buttered baguette. Even though he was an ex-staff member, the Asylum thought it fit that he was to be continually allowed the staff meals. Probably because he still scared them all shitless, especially since he had the abilities to escape his shackles and walk around Arkham like a free man. An ability I wished to possess myself.
"So," I started. "When are we escaping? I've been here nearly a week now, and although I admit the mind-dullingly plain routine, the overwhelmingly stale stagnant aroma of body odour and faeces, and not to forget, the dear company of my disease infested inmate, has grown on me. Frankly, I'd like to leave. Soon."
Crane frowned, genuinely perplexed, "Why would you ever want to leave?"
"Have you not been listening to a single word that I just said?" I asked now perplexed myself, wondering how my sarcasm could've flown straight over his head.
"This, this, place. Well, it's beautiful. Perfect in fact. We are all on one side, all this fear, this chaos. And he is on the other." Crane's eyes hardened up at the very thought of the dreaded 'B-word'- Batman.
All it had taken me was a stab through the hand to work out that Batman was a trigger word for Crane, and a no-go zone for the Scarecrow. Yet, despite the painful memories the Batman brought Crane, he still proceeded to mention the Bats in the form of 'he' or 'it' at least thrice every meal. Something about the costumed vigilante seemed to cause costumed villains to become obsessed. Well, you know what they say- crazy attracts crazy. Although, in these cases it was more fitting if the phrase was crazy attacks crazy.
"Wait, you don't want to leave? Like seriously?" My brain was baffled.
Six nights in this dump. I had managed six nights, and I was already climbing up the walls. In my cell block, inmates were only allowed one and a half hours out of their tiny enclosures per day. That meant for the remaining twenty two and a half hours I only had my brain as company. It hadn't taken long to get bored of hearing myself think. It didn't help that my brain was in a constant state of self loathing that I hadn't realised Sionis' lies and sawed him in half whilst I still had the opportunity.
"Have you not been listening to a single word that I just said?" He retorted.
I sighed, frustrated, "So why am I here? You wouldn't help protect me if I wasn't useful. Especially given I know that you don't like me."
"You thought you could help me escape?" He laughed sarcastically. "If I wanted to, I could walk straight out of the front doors. I don't need your assistance."
"So why don't you?"
He fell silent, but I knew what his answer was. It was the dreaded 'B-word' again.
Frankly, I was lucky that Crane had no idea that Batman had now vanished from the streets. If he knew, he wouldn't be here. And neither would I. As in, Crane/Scarecrow would be out, once again terrorising Gotham, whereas I would probably be dead, by the monster-lady no doubt, who every-so often would glare daggers at me from across the cafeteria, angry that I rebuked her advances. I was extremely lucky. I needed Crane to keep me alive, and he currently needed me something for God knows what.
"Listen," I tried again. "How about a trade off? I'll do whatever you need me to, and in return you can show me the way out of here."
Crane took another sip of his soup, evading my proposed deal with a question of his own, "When did you last wash?"
My hands clenched into tight fists, "Don't you change the subject. It was a simple yes or no answer."
"I'm being serious. You're really starting to look like one of the regulars. And you smell like them too." His nose wrinkled in revulsion.
It was true. My personal hygiene had gone out the window. My blonde hair now fell limp with grease, and areas of dirt had been stained into my pale skin which had turned a shade of yellow from acute jaundice since I hadn't seen the sun since my arrival. But looking and smelling like a tramp was far more agreeable to me than stepping foot in Arkham's shared ladies shower room.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise I was trying to impress anyone. Excuse me while I return to my chambers and whip out the newest collection of Versage." I spoke bitterly, trying to mask my offense that my presence disgusted him.
"It's Versace." He corrected.
"You know what I mean." I growled, shifting my anger at myself for even caring enough to get offended, onto him. "There's no way in Hell that I'll ever go into a shower with those loonies. Unless I want to die."
My head tilted as a motioned to the table opposite ours which held the monster lady and her entourage of psychedelic followers. Crane didn't even turn in his seat to witness the glares the ring leader was sending me.
"Well, you do have a history of being suicidal. So that could be any time, right? And you aren't exactly in the best frames of mind either, you do realise that you are also an inmate?"
"At least I'm not speaking to my spoon." I retorted back, trying hard not the stare at the lady who seemed to be having a conflict with her plastic cutlery. Her debate ended when she snapped the spoon in two and ate one of the ends.
"And who's to say you won't be soon? Just wait till you start your medication." He smiled, tauntingly.
All of Gotham had thought that Jonathan Crane had been evil to his inmates when he was the Head of the Asylum, but compared to Sharp, Crane was a petal. According to Crane, Sharp was getting extra income by allowing medicinal companies to test their new drugs on inmates, which, more often than not, had devastating consequences. But I was in disbelief. Crane hadn't exactly told me this when he was Crane. Crane had told me this when he was Scarecrow. So I laughed it off, hoping that the words he said were just another attempt to scare me witless.
"All the more reason to escape whilst I still have part of my mind intact!" I argued, using his words against him.
Crane just shook him head.
"Listen," I began again. "If you want to stay here all snug, protected from the B-man himself, then that's fine with me. But at least tell me how to get out."
"Now, why would I do that?"
"Because I'm going to help you with whatever you need me for. It's part of the deal."
"The deal is, you will help me with something and in return you get the chance to stay alive." He stated.
Chance? That did not sound good.
"Oh yeah, then what happens when I've finished with this 'something'?"
"You're a vaguely intelligent girl, I'm sure you can work it out."
Ergo, after I had fulfilled my uses, I was dog meat. My soul felt deflated. I was going to die here.
"Don't look so shocked. We're in Arkham, remember. Human decency gets left at the gates" He reasoned mockingly. "Besides I'm sure that even if I told you the way out of here, you wouldn't manage. The last inmate who had the most chances of being free, and staying free, got caught."
My soul rose again with hope, "Someone nearly escaped?"
"I'd hardly call them a person." His eyes rolled, bored.
I ignored him, already agitated at him for yet again not trying to help my petition to stay breathing. "Well. Where are they? You're deal sucks. I'm in need of a new partner."
He chuckled lowly, "Yeah, good luck with that. He'd eat you for breakfast."
I froze hesitantly, "What, he a paedophile or something?"
Crane scoffed, "If 'something' includes the category of life-sized lizards with the appetite for human flesh. Then yes, he surely is something."
"Bull-shit!"
Crane shrugged nonchalantly, and explained his words further, "His alias is Killer Croc, real name's Waylon Jones, but he lost the right of a real name when he started to devour the bones of his enemies. Of course, his alias is far more fitting. He was born with scales for skin."
"Killer Croc? You couldn't come up with anything more imaginative?" I snorted in disbelief. "So if there really is this 'lizard person' in Arkham, how come none of Gotham knows about him?"
"The people of Gotham had the Mob to worry about, then they also had me, closely followed by the Joker. You really think they could've coped sleeping at night if they knew that in the depths of Arkham, lay a monster who would be more than willing to eat them for dinner and their children for dessert?"
I laughed sarcastically, "You are so full of shit. Listen, for whatever the reason, you want me around. You obviously aren't wanting to leave since you're scared shitless of the Batman. Kinda ironic, don't you think- the Scarecrow has a fear?"
His icy eyes, froze over. I stiffened in my seat, at my slip. I knew who was coming out next.
"We are beginning to wonder why he ever kept you around." His spoke, his voice contorted.
I gulped, wishing I had kept my big mouth shut. I never learn.
But before another situation arose between the Scarecrow and I, a hard calloused hand clenched my shoulder roughly, painfully pulled me out of my seat, and pushed me towards the door, directing me to walk slowly and not try anything idiotic. I knew before he spoke that it was Boles.
Although it was completely unintentional on his behalf, I never would have thought in a million years the person to save me from Scarecrow's wrath would be Frank.
"Apparently the big man himself wants to see you, ain't you the lucky one?" He chuckled darkly.
It was out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Quincy Sharp's office was decadent to say the least, the room was six times the size of my cell and rather than smell like dampness and rot, like the rest of the Asylum, it smelt of polish which emanated from his fancy desk and the extravagant bookcase full of leather bound original copies. It seemed more like a library than an office. Instead of metal filing cabinets, Quincy used mahogany chest of drawers. There was no computer on his desk, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he signed his papers with a quill instead of a pen.
"Well, it's clear where Arkham's budget went." I said aloud, looking around the room.
Boles rose his arm to backhand me, but Sharp's words stopped him.
"That'll be all Frank, I'll take it from here. I trust you are enjoying your position as the newest member of the Head Guard Squadron."
"Very much, sir."
"Well back to work then. We wouldn't want any mishaps to occur from your dillydallying."
Ouch.
Boles nodded curtly trying not to show insult, looked down to check my handcuffs were tight enough, and left in a haste to please his Boss.
Quincy Sharp was a fat man, whose figure over spilled in his plush leather chair. He suffered from the misfortune of both being fat and bald, which resulted in him looking like a shaved pug, an appearance which was greatly aided by the frown lines that were permanently etched onto his face.
"Alice it says here the only medication you are on is morphine." He said reading from my file, which consisted of one side of an A4 piece of paper, that wasn't yet even half full.
"They put me back on morphine after my original incident with Crane." I explained, trying not to shudder as I remembered the feeling of his finger nails tearing apart my stitches.
"That was nearly a week ago, however."
"There was another incident," I tried raising my bandaged hand above the table top to show him the evidence, but the handcuffs made it impossible. "Hurts like a bitch when I'm not on it."
"Still, we can't have you on morphine for much longer. It might," he paused. "Interfere, with your other treatments."
I felt a bead on sweat drip down the back of my neck as I thought of a life with no morphine. I had no idea how I had managed life without it, morphine made me feel weightless and free.
"Sir, with all due respect, I'm fine. Morphine truly helps. So long as I'm on it I won't cause anyone issues. I'll stay out of everybody's way. You won't even know I'm here!" I spoke rapidly, my voice going up a pitch from my desperate plea.
Sharp's dead eyes looked at me from behind his own pair of thick rimmed glasses- it seemed him and Crane shared an optician.
"Alice, with all due respect, you are an inmate. It is our job, within the Asylum, to try and regain some sanity within your head, to have you functioning as close to a normal civilian as possible. Now wouldn't you like to be seen as a common member of society, instead of looked down upon and feared?"
"I'd like my morphine." I answered truthfully.
"Tsk, tsk. You disappoint me Alice." He continued to inspect my file, "It says here on your hospital record, you have no first point of contact."
I didn't reply.
"No close friends, family, acquaintances? The Joker, of course doesn't count." He prodded, as I remained quiet. Something about him was causing me to be on edge, but I had reasoned that it was because he was the only person who stood between me and a lifetime supply of free morphine.
"Not that he hasn't asked about you," Quincy continued. "You know in nearly all his sessions he brings you up? You must've made quite the impression, pity that it has to be so fleeting."
"'Has to'?" I repeated, alarm bells were ringing in my mind.
"Alice, you tried to kill yourself. Twice, apparently. You have no family left, no friends to fight your corner, you didn't even have a job. Just another worthless lowlife from The Narrows without enough money to her name to buy a Happy Meal. You may be completely expendable, but the research we gather from you will be indispensable. "
"I don't know anything about the Joker, if that's what you're asking." I stated.
Quincy laughed, a full belly laugh.
"Oh no, Alice, not at all." He closed my file, and leaned forward, holding his hands together on top of the desk. "You see, I'm giving you an option, the same one I give all the worthless and unmemorable inmates who enter my office. You can either be put on an experimental drug trial, or I can hand you over to the very capable hands of Professor Hugo Strange."
So Crane hadn't been lying. Well shit.
"Dr Strange?"
"Professor." Quincy corrected, "A great friend of mine, who shares a very common interest- Power. Strange is working on a technique to control the human mind, however so far his experimentations have been less than successful. Luckily, nobody blinks twice when an inmate dies in Arkham. However, families proposing inquiries or attempting to sue can be such a pain, which is why we quickly learnt to use the unwanted patients.
"See, Alice. What I am doing is allowing you to do something useful, for once in your life. I'm allowing you to be a part of something so much bigger, that your pathetic life may restore some of its meaning, after all."
I butted into his monologue, "So what you're essentially saying is that me choosing to sacrifice either my life or brain, is actually you doing me a favour?"
"Precisely!" He clapped his hands together enthusiastically, happy that I could see it all from his perspective. "So Alice, what do you say?"
"I say that the staff here are crazier than their patients!" I barked. "Yeah, I think I'll take my chances with the drug trial, thank you very much."
Quincy Sharp's face hardened into stone, "Yet again you disappoint me Alice."
"I'd like to return to my cell now, if you please." I glared back at him, furious that I was to become some sort of lab rat.
"That is not possible." He stated.
"What? What the hell do you mean?" I asked, getting flustered. Panic gripping my nerves.
Quincy sat back and slouched within his seat, "I lied when I said you had a choice. Professor Strange is on his way here to start his program."
"What?!" I tried to jump up but the handcuffs were bound to the chair, so instead I spat straight into his face. He wiped the spit off with his pocket handkerchief, unsurprised at my reaction, another inmate must've done the same thing in the past.
"Now, now Alice. You may not have much to offer the world, but at least hold onto your dignity for whatever remaining time you have left." He patronised me.
"You evil fuck! I'll kill you!" My wrist bruised against the metal as I attempted to break the shackles, but I didn't care. In that moment, I only had one thing on my mind. Cold blooded murder.
The door behind opened up and in walked in another bald man who was so tall and thin, he resembled a grasshopper. It was Professor Strange.
"Greetings Strange! Perfect timing, I was just explaining to dear Alice what is away to happen to her. She seems to be taking it better than our last unfortunate." Quincy smiled.
"You ignoramus bastard! I'll fucking kill you!" I yelled in fury, trying to muster up some more spit but my mouth had gone dry from fear.
"We can't experiment on her." Was all I heard Strange say.
"Well, why on Earth not?"
Strange walked his lanky body over to the fat slob that was Sharp and whispered something into his ear, I watched as Quincy froze rigid and looked at me in horror.
"No, of course we can't. I'll find a replacement for tomorrow. Apologies for this inconvenience. Can you find a guard to take her back to her cell?" Sharp said in reply.
Strange nodded, and left.
Quincy gulped and looked at me but not meeting my eyes, "Looks like somebody as a Guardian Angel. I'll find you a psychiatrist to begin your treatment program tomorrow."
"No drug tests?" I asked warily, confused by this sudden shift of events.
"No drug tests." He clarified with a nod. "Alice, let's keep this incident on the down-low. Wouldn't want to worry any of the other inmates."
If I was to be silent about this, he could damn well pay for it.
"So my morphine?" I prodded.
"Will remain as is."
"No," I declared. "My morphine will be doubled."
"If you so wish."
The stupid bastard hadn't even realised I hadn't agreed to shutting my trap.
After I had been taken back to my cell I flopped down on my rock solid bed in triumph. But I felt something squish underneath me. I sprung up, and looked down. It was a piece of cake. Or at least had been until my body demonised it. Scrawled on its paper plate were the words 'You're welcome' and a picture of a smiley face.
My laugh was so loud it, in no doubt, could've been heard from the other side of the Asylum where they thought they had him securely locked up. And I'm sure he was laughing along too.