Part I: Rebecca Robinson is left to face Gotham's worst Halloween ever. One ex-Robin and one dead-Robin are running loose in Gotham with their own goals and agendas. Rebecca's mind isn't the ideal one to begin with and with a history like she has... Will she be able to survive without loosing her sanity or her life? What will happen when Clown Prince of Crime wants his toys back and even Scarecrow can't stop him? Will Rebecca end up just being a toy to dead man's legacy?
Chapter 4 - Joke is rated M
Romance will be slow burn. (And I do mean slow.)
Contains detailed description of graphic violence, strong language and descriptions of mental illnesses and self-harming.
Broken Toys
Chapter 6 - Ghost
Ghost: (noun) An apparition of a dead person which is believed to appear or become manifest to the living, typically as a nebulous imagine.
"Ex Bird-boy." I note.
"Rebecca, what were you thinking? Have you become suicidal again?" Nightwing worries just seconds after stopping me from falling. I giggle at him.
"Oh, it's Punchline." He sighs. It annoys me how disappointed he sounds. Must be Rebecca in me. He saved her ages ago so she feels the childish need to please him.
"In the flesh." I say as Nightwing lands softly on a rooftop near the Stagg's airships.
"She was doing so well." He sounds disappointed. I can't allow that.
"People change."
"What? No bad punchline?"
"Very funny. Jokes are my thing." I cross my arms like a child.
"Not in this scenario." He takes some gadget and while holding me he starts to move building to building. The gadget looks what I would imagine grappling hooks looking like so it must be that.
"What has happened in here?" I ask looking down to the streets. I only see gang members destroying everything what they can, having miniature riots and shooting guns to the air. It looks fun.
"Scarecrow threatened to fill the whole city with his newest fear toxin. After the whole city was evacuated, apart from police and fire fighters and of course criminals decided to stay, including some big names, the tanks came."
Rebecca's memories are always little cloudy but I'm able to recall the mayhem in Pauli's diner. Even foggier memory reminds me how my original kidnappers were talking about tanks. Seems like their plan worked.
"Everybody who are somebody in this city's underworld are here, Penguin, Two-Face, obviously Scarecrow, even Firefly has returned from his slumber and Riddler is podcasting nearly as often as Crane is. Even some new enemy called Arkham Knight has arrived to Gotham."
Him I could remember quite easily. The memory makes me involuntarily shudder.
"That's what happened in a nutshell." Nightwing informs.
"Why you are here? Aren't you supposed to be in Blüdhaven?"
"I was tracking Penguin. Now I'm helping Batman to take out the trash."
"How is he doing by the way? Must be hard for him to share custody of his baby." I comment waving my hand at the city below us.
"He is working on it." As an answer, a nearby tank blows up and I see dark figure destroying its way through the streets.
"What the fuck is that?" I ask pointing at the moving figure that blows up another tank.
"Batmobile, I see it's been updated." Nightwing observes. I see him frowning at the sight.
"It doesn't even look like a fucking car. It's blowing up tanks and shooting shit." The not-car stops suddenly shooting smaller black figure to the night sky who soon disappears out of my sight.
I was making my way through the Intensive Treatment building. Finally I was alone and not babysat by some random doctor in Arkham. The long suffering working inside penitentiary had come with a prize. The loonies there were yelling all the time making my ears ring and head hurt so the silence inside Intensive Treatment was welcomed. Not to mention the perks of this location. Previously I was able to only secretly read some of the inmate's files. Now I had full access to see them in person. Of course some of the calmer criminals I had seen before but the really messed up cases were locked inside the deepest, darkest and the most secure location in the asylum. And now I had the chance to distribute their medication.
I had already done most of my round. I still hadn't seen the man who I was looking for but he had to be here. Probably in the deepest hole that this place could provide. Guards were everywhere but most of them didn't seem to focus on their job. I passed Frank Boyles, a man that I always disliked. I was not surprised to smell liquor in his breathing. He left me alone for once, maybe remembering the last time that we met.
I almost lost my job because of him. He had grabbed my ass and I, like any other normal teenager had twisted his wrist and told him I'm a minor and way out of his league. He had not took kindly to that. I had no doubt he could beat me then and there, he was a big guy and I've seen him beating up the inmates plenty of times, but out there in the streets was a different story. Those who have patience will always get their revenge. The only reason that Boles didn't hit me was that my boss, Whistler witnessed what happened and even he isn't that stupid. Whistler spoke for me to the warden allowing me to keep my job. Boles didn't get any punishment of course but maybe the look in my eyes warned him to back off.
I was doing my job and putting correct medicine in the correct lockers. Occasionally I peeked inside the cells to have a look at the inmates but only for a moment. I saw many familiar faces but not the one I was hoping to find.
"Hey! A new one!" I heard Harley Quinn's high pitched voice. I placed her medicine in her locker resisting the urge to look her in the eyes.
"Don't bother sweetie. I don't eat those anyway." She said while trying to read me behind the bars.
I remember the order about no talking unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Are you a shy one? Don't worry. I don't bite." Her smile was actually surprisingly friendly. She even looked friendlier than my actual friends like Miranda and Jack. It was hard to remember that she was psychotic killer and not some friendly stranger.
I allowed myself one look, just one. My deep green eyes met her bright blue ones through the bars. She is younger than I thought. Must be under thirty or then she just looked really young. I would estimate her age to be around twenty five but she must be older, I thought remembering her working in the asylum before her transformation from Harleen Quinzel to Harley Quinn.
She seemed taller than me but not by much. She was very pretty, no wonder that the Joker chose her. Even in ugly orange inmate clothes and with messy hair and without makeup she seemed bright, bubbly and very sweet. I had to constantly remind myself that she is a known psychopath.
"It's okay if you don't talk. We really need more of those in here." She was right behind the bars now. "Take Eddie for example. He just can't shut up." By Eddie she probably meant E. Nygma aka Riddler. I've read his casefiles, even seen him once before he escaped leaving his old cell filled with riddles. Most seemed to think he was harmless but I've heard few worrying stories about the true nature of his mind games. If one failed to answer correctly, the Riddler would find a new imaginative way to brutally murder them for their mistake.
"Who are you talking to Harley?" I heard a new very distinguishable voice. It was him, it has to be, the Joker. I turned to face him completely forgetting Harley. He has captured every fiber of my being with a single question.
"New guy. She brought our meds." Harley answered.
"Don't be shy." The Joker's face peaked through his cell's window. He wasn't wearing his signature red lipstick but otherwise up close he looked exactly I had seen him on television. Same bleached white skin, same bright green hair and eyes but the cameras didn't do justice for his energy and aura. He seemed to fill the room just by standing there and doing nothing.
I automatically stepped closer. The moment seemed unreal. The man who had effected so much of my life was finally so close to me that I could touch him if I wanted.
"Good girl. What's your name?" He asked, smiling.
I never didn't like the stupid rules anyway so I answer to his question. "Rebecca." I had the sense to give him only my first name.
"Becky sounds better to me." The Joker thought.
I chose his medicines out of all the pills which was a job because the doctors seemed to lost hope and just try anything that might work. I fumbled around, trying to pick the right bottles to put into his locker, seemingly losing my ability to form words. The moment just didn't feel real. It all felt like a dream.
"You don't need to do that. Really. Strange's tricks don't work on me anymore. Try Hatter. When somebody is madder than hatter you are in big trouble." The Joker laughed. I was so awestruck that it took me a moment to process what he was actually saying.
Try Hatter? As in Mad Hatter aka Jervis Tetch, fellow lover level inmate at Arkham. If my memory served me correctly I thought he was transferred to be one of Strange's patients some time ago. Was that what the Joker meant by Strange's tricks?
Maybe a curiosity didn't kill the cat but it certainly got them into trouble.
"Why are we going to some old movie studios? There isn't anything good even playing right now. You know, with the mass evacuation and all." I protest, waving my arms dramatically.
"You are not safe out there in the streets. And you are not safe or sane to be left alone either." Nightwing explains.
"So who is at the movie studios then to babysit me? And is there any gum?" I ask.
"You'll see." He answers annoyingly.
"So there will be gum?" I ask smiling, trying to push his buttons.
Nightwing only sighs. He lands safely on top of Panessa Studios building and gently puts me down. It feels nice to walk on a solid ground. Or actually a roof. Whatever. No-one is around to threaten to kill or poison me unless Nightwing has changed his tactics drastically, which I doubt. He is sort of Rebecca's friend and wouldn't lay a finger on her, thus on me. Besides he is supposed to be a hero. Heroes don't hurt defenseless damsels in distress.
"Open." He says when he reaches the door. Safety comes off and he opens the door revealing a gloomy elevator behind it. He pushes the only button and the elevator starts to go down carrying me and Nightwing with it.
"One last thing before we enter. Do not freak out." He says his voice serious.
"What are you talking about? I'm calm as fuck. I just need some gum." I complain rolling my eyes to oblivion.
"I'm serious, Punch. You'll understand when we get there." Nightwing shakes his head.
"That's sounds promising." I huff.
The elevator stops opening its doors. We step out into a short corridor that leaves into a huge room. The two spaces are separated by iron rack but I guess Nightwing will open it for me so I walk forward, not waiting for him to follow.
"Robin? We have a visitor." Nightwing calls out.
"Nightwing! So great to see you! Why you here?" The rack opens and in steps the man I know to be Robin. He looks bulkier than I remember and he has shaved his head but main parts of the costume are still the same. You can't miss the bright yellow R slapped to his chest.
"Bringing her in. And helping the old man with his bird problem." Nightwing explains. As he points at me I take a step forward, bow theatrically with a big smile on my face.
"Why?" Robin looks puzzled.
"She is Rebecca Robinson."
Robin catches up immediately. His puzzled look morphs into mix of pity and curiosity. I don't like either of those options but pity is something that Rebecca and I absolutely despise.
"Do you have any gum?" I ask trying to remove the pity from his face.
"Punchline, her other personality, has taken over her. I don't know why yet. Either the stress or skipping her daily dose. Maybe both." Nightwing explains ignoring me.
I walk closer to the room's center passing them both. There are five cells and one big computer with bat symbols. Must be the Batcomputer or otherwise Batman sucks naming at shit.
"Don't touch anything." Robin warns as he hurries next to me.
"Relax, Bird-Brain. I am not interested with your science-y stuff. What are the cells for? I thought Batman doesn't take prisoners. Or at least he doesn't keep them." Even though the cell doors are see-through I can't see what they are storing because of the strong steam covering their inmates.
"Robin, you can show them to her. If she is going to be here, she needs to see them at some point." Nightwing puts his hands to my shoulders keeping me still.
Steam disappears revealing one cell at a time. When I'm able to see first inmate I scream out of panic. My back bumps into Nightwing who keeps me on my feet with steady hands.
"Calm down. It's not him." He whispers to my ear with a soothing voice. He is probably trying his best to calm me down but what he is saying isn't adding up with his tone. Of course I know it's not him. It doesn't make me feel any more safe or better in anyway.
"It sure looks like him." I breathe heavily. I need to take it easy. I can't panic. I look down only to my feet never turning my gaze from the ground while counting slowly to ten.
"This is Christina Bell. She killed 11 board members of the Queen Industries." Robin says introducing the green haired woman smiling behind the glass.
"Who is this wannabe, Fake-Bats? Is she joining our little marching band? I'm afraid to tell you but we are full." Christina Bell looks very different than I but she still hits too close to home.
"Shut up, Bell." Robin commands. He is clearly used to these sort of conversations. Seems like Bell pulls her act constantly.
"Don't worry. You are not like them." Nightwing tries to comfort me.
"Them? There is more than one?" I ask weakly.
I was not supposed to be here. This was against nearly every rule I could think of and if I get caught I would most certainly get fired. Or worse. I had my suspicions of Strange and the amount of disappearing low-level inmates was worrying.
The thing was, the Joker's words just didn't leave me alone. I had to know what he meant when he told me about Mad Hatter and Strange's tricks. I just had to.
I had broken into the room that stored patient's and staff's personal files. I was trying to locate Mad Hatter's folder but it was nowhere to be found. That itself raised even more questions because every single file, folder and tape should be stored in this room. I ran my fingers through section T again but no Tetch. Instead my fingers stopped when I read "TITAN".
"TITAN?" I mumbled. The file was just left there like it was forgotten. I picked up the file and saw a red classified-text stamped over the front cover.
"Oh, now I got to read this." I took my phone out from my pocket and took pictures of all the pages. I would read them after work when I wasn't in danger to get caught. I put the folder back to its place just in time. Closing footsteps warned me to back off before Dr. Young arrived to the small room.
"What are you doing here?" She seemed stressed. Dark under eyes, slightly messy hair and worried expression gave it all away. The work was getting into her. Like a shark, she attacked for the file that I just couple seconds earlier took pictures of. Young fished it with her long fingers and closed it tightly against her chest as if to protect it.
"Dr. Whistler asked me to get her Zsasz's earlier records." I lied smoothly.
"Well go on then." Young snapped not moving from where she was standing
"Umm…" I faked being uncertain and embarrassed. "I don't remember where the patient records are stored. Could you please help me?"
Young huffed annoyed but dropped the file to her bag and moved to show me where the old records were held. I stole a glimpse of the insides of the bag and saw the Joker's file and her phone alarming of a new email from someone named Jack White. Then I was forced to move my attention back to Young.
"Here all old interview tapes. They are in alphabetical order. The dates are marked there. Got it?" Young asked sharply.
"Thank you so much." I bended down pretending to look for the correct tape. I chose one randomly and stood back up.
Young eyed me up and down suspiciously but led the matter be. I hurried past her, my phone safe inside my bra just to be safe and the tape in my hand. When I had escaped to penitentiary I dumped the tape to a random table as if some doctor had forgotten it there accidentally. Rest of the work day fled by anxiously.
When I finally got into my apartment, my parents called. They were worried about my job. Metropolis had heard of the infamous asylum. It was late when I finally managed to get off the phone. My mom was concerned about me not leaving me go easily. I had said thousand times that I was okay but she wasn't convinced. Kept insisting something about mother's instinct.
I changed into my pajamas and fell to my bed. I went straight to my phone's gallery to check the images. For a second I was scared that the photos had somehow disappeared during the day but they were still safe and sound. I loaded the photos to my computer to double check them.
As I worked my way through the pictures the mystery got some new disturbing imaginary. "What the fuck?"
"Why are they here?" I ask when I find my voice. There is three more Jokers in the cells in front of me. The fourth cell holds some random old man and the fifth cell is empty but not for long, I bet.
"Remember back at the Arkham City when the Joker poisoned Gotham's hospitals with his blood?" Robin asks. He and Nightwing are looking at me like I'm about to pass out or break down into tears.
"Yeah! It was my birthday if I remember correctly." I say sounding more relaxed than I feel. "I think I was pre-occupied during that time."
Nightwing's face changes for a second when he realizes their mistake. Technically Rebecca was born in 6th of January but I was born around last year's November.
"Anyway, I though you guys got all the blood out. B's doc told us so." I continue.
"There was some doses that we missed. Unofficial blood transfusion, hospital errors and so on. These four got infected." Robin explains.
"So?"
"First we thought that you were infected as well." Robin says.
"But that makes no sense. He didn't want me to die. He wanted to make me his backup plan. That what he told us." I say trying to block my memories. These ones I can see clear as day. Not that I want to remember those events.
"Are you sure?" Robin says raising his eyebrows skeptically.
"His blood would have killed me. He only messed up B's head. He created me. Unfortunately to him it backfired." I smile widely crushing my flashbacks.
"Not if he created new successful backup plans." Nightwing points out. "Plus do you really think he was telling the truth to you?"
"Don't be a party pooper." My smile fades. "What about the grandpa-one? He doesn't look like the Joker to me."
"He doesn't have shown any symptoms so far but we aren't any closer to find cure for this sickness." Robin looks at Nightwing, both clearly worried.
I stand up smoothly with one move. For a moment I swing slightly on my toes looking around the big room, anywhere else than inside the cells.
"So, it was nice to see you and all but gotta run. Don't wanna hang around to mix up your nerdy brainstorming or anything." Or have anything to do with this new wave of clown princes of crime.
"Funny." The way Robin speaks indicates that he, in fact, doesn't think I was funny. Instead he seizes me and locks me up inside the fifth cell.
"Not again." I cry and kick the glass.
"Sorry." Nightwing says without looking like he means it. What a dick.
"Lier." I cross my hands over my chest.
"You look like a four year old." He chuckles. And now who is the bigger person.
"Fuck you." I say and turn my head away, pouting.
Silence.
"Is there any gum left?" I finally ask.
A/N: Bad news, Rebecca is going to stay separate from Jason for some time now. Don't worry, we will see him soon just without Rebecca. Please leave a review maybe?
Knockout: I'm sorry. Hopefully I cleared that up now.
Morro: Thanks, here it is. Hope you'll like it.
Prinzessin Mia: Thank you. Sorry I don't update more often. I'm aiming once a week currently. Hopefully you still want to read this.
akoslows: The Joker isn't in control. By torturing Rebecca, he created Punchline. She is Rebecca's mind response to the extreme torture and psychological manipulation that she went through. To answer to your other question: Punchline is in total control now. For how long is a different story.
xXSherlockianGirlXx: You're welcome. Inspiring others is maybe the best compliment that a writer can get.
angeles372: Thanks. It's my goal at least. Hope you like it.