Who: The Joker and OTA Arkham Staff What: The Joker stops in for his daily therapy session. Fun is had by all. Where: Arkham Asylum, Gotham City When: August 2nd 2011 Rating: Pg-13 Status: Incomplete.
The guards were rough. Needlessly so. As if a few seconds of pain would have deterred their prisoner from his usual brand of torment and merriment. Simple fools trying to control their world using the only thing available to them: Their fists. It took a real man of power to influence those with a word, a gesture, even an expression. Or maybe just a monster.
The man, known only as The Joker to the citizens of gotham, was "escorted" to his daily therapy session and tensions were high. Two guards flanked the the madman, with an arm hooked through the spaces of his sleeveless coat while a third brought up the rear. The leg bindings the madman wore danced merrily across the concrete floor as he was dragged down yet another bland, white washed corridor. The Joker hung limply in their grasp and could have been mistaken for a corpse.
A pair of heavy security doors grew larger at the end of this hall. The next security check point loomed above the quartet of men. Words were exchanged with someone sitting in the guard room beside the check point. For the first time since his beating, The Joker showed signs of life. His tall, gangly form slithered like a snake in the guards arms and they hurried to tighten their grip. His feet found the ground and the clown turned his head to peer through the bulletproof glass. Cold eyes locked on the dumpy nurse who sat there, manning the station.
"Hi Fran." Joker stretched that last syllable longer than was natural. He spoke in a voice that was all honey. "How're the kids?" Honey laced with Arsenic. "And dear old Frank?" The color drainded from the woman's face at the mention of her husband and kids. Some of the many victims of Joker's rampage. Soft, brown eyes darted to a picture on the wall and began to tear up. A hint of anger flashed behind her eyes as she pushed the clear button. The high pitched electric buzz of the security door allowed them clearance and drowned out the first chorus of Joker's mad laughter. A guard slammed a knee into the clown's side and the pair dragged him through the checkpoint more forcefully than before.
Joker continued to giggle incessantly as the quartet wound through the bowels of Arkham Asylum. The demented clown twitched here and there and a chuckle escaped every now and then. The clown's journey ended at yet another large and all too familiar door. The security guard in back moved around to open the exam room's door. The escorts carried onward into the room and forced the Joker into a steel chair facing the door. His chair wobbled ever so slightly back and forth. A table of stainless steel sat before him, reflecting the light of the lamp directly over head. The guards turned away and left him alone in the room.
The clown inhaled the lingering stench of disenfectants and gave a snort of derision. Long lank hair hung down to obscur his scarred (and ultimately make-up-less) visage. The brown strands were streaked a seaweed green color that seemed to have faded away with time. Dark, malevolent eyes glittered from reflected light and scanned the room slowly. They moved to the door as it opened and presented him a view of the hallway beyond. The clown idly ran his tongue along his lips and considered the person who entered his domain. A new playmate. What fun!