CHAPTER VIII
The repetitive schedule of Arkham had bored the Joker for a while, and he felt like he would die of boredom if something out of the ordinary didn't happen. One day at lunch, something happened that was exactly what he wanted. The Joker was eating with Smiley, Kami, and Chester (as they were now called), as usual, waiting for the grind of the day to begin again. There had been something that was bothering the Joker. There was a guard that day that seemed…different than the others. As far as anyone could tell, he was there all day. Strange, the Joker thought.
The Joker had been watching this guard since he got up that morning, and he noticed that the guard was also watching him. The Joker had several theories. The one that was most bothersome, however, was one that suggested that the guard was sent here to kill him. Whenever he voiced his suspicions, Smiley, Kami, and Chester just said he was paranoid. But the Joker was still convinced, keeping his gaze in the guard's general direction. The Joker had begun drumming his fingers on the table when the guard walked up to him. "See there, gents?" said the Joker, "I told you this guy was here to whack me." "What?" said the guard, "I don't…ah, forget about it. What've you been watching me for?"
The Joker was puzzled. "So…you weren't sent here to kill me?" he asked. "No!" said the guard, appalled, "Why would you think that?" "Well, I don't know, maybe it's because you happen to be the creepiest guard I've ever had the displeasure to lay eyes on!" said the Joker in one breath. "Well, you're the creepiest criminal I've ever seen!" said the guard, "I've been taking an all-day shift to make sure you don't try anything!" "Oh," said the Joker, "I suppose that makes more sense." "Yeah," said the guard.
Hey, it was something out of the ordinary, exactly what the Joker wanted. There was no mention of it being something like breaking out, or anything. In fact, the Joker did like one or two aspects of Arkham. One was the fighting in the yard. The other was the place's library. It had many different books of many different subjects, and in reading, the Joker found relative solace, and it helped him think. And thinking was something that the Joker found to be very beneficial. And so, in a couple of months, the Joker had had just the right amount of thinking to help him out a bit.
He had fun with it. He started with some basic analyzing, like making the simple deduction that the reason Killer Croc fought everyone was because he was self-conscious about his scaly skin, much like a teenager with bad acne. He also figured out the motives behind Poison Ivy's killing of several land developers. She probably ran some kind of garden in Gotham which was destroyed, leading her to see the developers as criminals deserving of the death sentence. The Joker asked Ivy about it, and she promptly slapped him. Yep, it would seem that the Joker was right about that one. Life was starting to get better for him.
I had seen all the reports on Batman's daring escapades, as well as interviews with ordinary citizens on what they thought of "The Dark Knight". As far as I could see, it was about fifty-fifty. Some thought I was a good man trying to help. Some thought I was a glory-seeking lunatic. But the police, I couldn't get a bead on. Jim Gordon had no comment. Huh. I decided to personally ask him.
I know, it seems like a dumb idea, but I went forward with it. I entered the same way I did the last time I was at the police station. Jim didn't move. Instead, he said, "If you're trying to give me a heart attack, it isn't working." I froze and said, "I was going to ask you what you thought of me." "I don't know," said Gordon, "I mean, I gather you're trying to help, and you're certainly doing what the police aren't." "So, do you think I'm helping or hurting?" I asked. Gordon sighed and said, "I guess. You took down Hugo Strange, there's points for you. Of course, I wasn't very happy when you knocked me unconscious." I laughed awkwardly.
"But," continued Gordon, "I suppose, overall, you're helping." "Well, now that I know that," I said, "do you think you could set up a meeting with the Joker?" Gordon turned around, eyebrows raised. "Just like that, you think that I'd do that?" he said. "Uh, a little bit," I said. Gordon wrestled with the decision for a few seconds. Then he walked to his door, opened it, and told everybody else they could go home, except for two officers. "Why are they staying here?" I asked. "To make sure you don't do anything to the Joker," he replied.
I waited to enter the room, instead watching the Joker as they led him in. As he walked in, he said, "So, who is it?" he assumed an expression of mock exhilaration and continued, "Is it a secret admirer? That's sweet, but you'll have to tell her that I'm taken. You see, there's a nice blonde over in Arkham, so…" I walked in at that moment and said, "Not exactly." "Whoa," said the Joker, "Okay, notice how I said 'her'. I'm sorry, I'm sure you're a nice guy, it's just…" "Enough with the jokes," I interrupted.
The Joker laughed and leaned forward, saying, "Uh, Joker here? I'm not sure you understand the situation." I had to resist punching this guy. I slightly tightened my fist, and the Joker's eyes flashed towards it and back to me. "Ooh, am I annoying you?" he asked, "Yay!" He began rapidly clapping. I sighed heavily, trying to calm down, and said, "I wanted to ask you a question. When you were still the Red Hood, why didn't you go after larger targets? It seemed you had the skill." "Ah, therein lies the rub," said the Joker, "The guy who hired us…though we never saw him or knew his name, he always told us to go for smaller targets, and he would pay us twice what we scored. If we went for a bigger one…well, more than our contract would be terminated."
I was puzzled. I said, "I still don't get it." The Joker said, "Alright, then. I suspect that the guy who made me…also hired the Red Hood and his gang. I suppose the whole thing was like starving Cujo and then letting him off the leash. Course, this city was thrown to the dogs a long time ago. You want to know what else?" "What?" I asked. "Well, sometimes," began the Joker, "when I was bored, I would peruse old records, just randomly seeing what kind of crimes caught my eye. And I saw Joe Chill's murder of the Thomas and Martha Wayne." I tried to keep to together, not to give anything away.
Apparently, it didn't work. "What's wrong?" asked the Joker, "Were they, like, friends of your parents, or something?" "Uh, yeah, yes, they were," I said. "Too bad," continued the Joker, "Well, anyway, I think the guy who hired me hired Chill." "What makes you say that?" I asked. "Ah, somebody's INTERESTED!" said the Joker gleefully, "Here's what I gleaned. One: the murder weapon was a Magnum. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think a homeless guywould be able to afford something like that on his own unless he was willing to die of starvation. Two: the statement given by little Bruce said that Chill looked over his shoulder at somebody who was standing just outside the alley. The guy who orchestrated that seems like the kind of guy who would turn someone like the Red Hood into someone like me."
I had already figured this out sometime ago, but I was surprised that the Joker was able to pick up on it. This was a development that would influence future events, but I wanted to ask the Joker one last question: "You said Gotham had been thrown to the dogs. What did you mean?" The Joker laughed. He looked downwards as the laughter intensified. Eventually, he stopped and said, "Whoo! Good times. Well, I assume that the "protector" of the city would've grown up in it, right?" I nodded. He laughed again and continued, "Man, you're really not familiar with this place, are you?" "What?" I asked. He went on, "You know how most places on a map are marked with a red pin?"
I stayed silent. "Well," he kept going, "this place should have a black pin. It's practically the crime capital of America! You have any idea what Gotham does to a person? In fact, do you know what happened to Amadeus Arkham, the founder of Arkham Asylum?" I shook my head. He rubbed his hands together and began, "Well, he, as you would expect, was a psychiatrist for the criminally insane. He was so devoted to his line of work that his house was turned into the asylum! But, more than his work, he loved his daughter. Now, there was a criminal at the time who had a penchant for beheading minors." My stomach crawled up my throat, anticipating what was coming.
The Joker continued, grinning, "One day, Amadeus discovered his house had been broken into. He explored his entire house, eventually discovering the intruder had entered through his daughter's room. He didn't find her, and who knows for what reason, he decides to look in her dollhouse. You know what he finds?" I gulped. "Yep," said the Joker, "As you can imagine, this experience leaves Amadeus rattled, and about a month later he electrocutes the killer. Then a week later he kills himself. That is what I meant. Would you like me to continue my dissertation?" I figured he would do it anyway, so I, in spite of myself, nodded.