Taken from: My FanFiction
|Writing done by artist of composition.|
“and we promise that this is the end of all terrorism from the Joker and his allies.”
The phone rang and the television tuned out as Doctor Harleen switched the ‘off’ button at the top of the remote. “Hello?”
“He’s coming up. We’re assured that all the other patients have been discharged to other places. Commissioner’s orders,” the voice on the other end of the line echoed.
“Mmm...” she dropped a pencil onto the desk that she had been brandishing in her hand for around an hour. “There’s two more left to be released but they’ve been taken on by the senior staff. I was put onto the Joker’s case.”
“Buzz us in, then.”
She placed the phone back onto it’s resting place and stood up, straightening out her red pleated skirt and white medical coat. As she walked, she picked up the pin badge from the side of the desk and pinned it onto her coat – DR H. QUINZEL.
The lights all flickered along the sides of the stair well as her heels clicked down them. By the time she reached ground floor, she could already see a media city outside the gates of Arkham Asylum, and The Joker concealed behind a collection of guards. Arkham Asylum was heavily restricted with budgets, and staff had recently had to be laid off due to the inmates getting transferred. Going into the room that was once owned by the receptionist, she pressed the small blue button and the two large doors buzzed open, and the group of guards entered with The Joker strapped to an upright gurney with a muzzle.
“We’re under orders to confine him. At no point is he to be completely unstrapped,” Harleen said, pointing down the hall of open doors. “Take him all the way down there, to section B and into room B-twelve. It’s our largest room, it should be enough.”
They each nodded and carried out the request as Harleen looked into the small mirror on the inside wall of the reception. Primping her yellow-blonde hair a little, she turned sharply and followed down the hall, tapping her walkie-talkie that was connected to the security guard, the warden, and the senior leader.
Outside the room stood two armed guards in black and blue SWAT uniforms, nodding at her as she entered. Inside the room sat The Joker. No longer donning his custom purple and green suit, he was forced into a white straight jacket and brown pants. His left ankle was shackled to the floor, and on the opposite side of the room was a bench and desk, that had only just been set up for Harleen to treat The Joker... and find out who he was, and what he wanted.
His muzzle was on the desk, and three armed guards stood next to him, and two behind Harleen’s desk. “Has he spoke?” She asked.
“No, ma’am,” Officer Ridley spoke.
“Right.” As she walked to her desk she grew ever more enchanted by his sly Chelsea grin, pale face and green hair. Initially she got the impression he didn’t care, and only when she stood infront of the desk, with her hips slung forward to the one side, did he look even slightly interested in what was happening. “So, wanna tell me who you are?”
He didn’t reply. The air in the cell was stagnant. “No,” he finally said, his hoarse voice breaking slightly, probably from dehydration.
“I guessed as much.” She walked behind the desk and sat in the wooden chair, opening a notebook with the words ‘JOKER CASE’ wrote in upper case letters. “Let’s get to know each other, then. I’m Harleen Quinzel. I’ll be your main therapist until they decide what to do with you. So we should probably get real comfy with each other. You’re gonna be here for a long time.”
“I know,” he said. His voice was deep and gravelly.
“Mind telling me something about yourself?”
She was met with a wall of silence. A silence that lasted five minutes before one of the guards had to break the silence. “We’ve been called in, they found Morello.”
The five guards on the inside sighed, with the eldest sighing. “Doc, we need to go. Remember what we said and where the emergency buzzers are. The main ones send messages directly to myself and my team. Get this sick bastard into shape.”
“I will, Ridley, I will.” They smiled at eachother before he left the room, with the others trailing behind him. The cell door closed behind them. “So, wanna tell me anything now?”
“You seem too... pre-occupied with things not worth your time, doc. Being here is a waste of your time, isn’t it? When every moment you waste here someone out there could be killing someone you love.” His face had dropped a little and his gaze seemed foreboding, with a sense of challenge. Quinzel seemed all the more interested.
“I have no one out there I love. And idle threats won’t work. You’re bound to this room for the rest of your life, or until they put you on death row. And it’s up to you whether you talk or not. But things would get easier. So let me start. Where did you grow up?”
“That’s a very cryptic answer.”
“Look,” she sighed, moving to the front of the desk, resting herself on the edge of it. “I’m in here most of my time. I have nothing better to do other than sit in my office and watch television. The more you talk to us, the more privileges you get.”
“You know, somethin’, doc? You are very beautiful,” he purred. “I don’t get why you’re even here.”
She began to laugh. “It’s my job. You don’t have one. We have nothing on you, Joker, but we need something.”
“Oh well, if you’re here all night...” he cooed, narrowing his eyes and smiling.