Batman Dark Utopia Chapter 3

                                                                                     CHAPTER Ill- A JOKER IN THE DECK

            Batman and Commissioner Gordon wandered through the halls of Arkham. Two guards accompanied them. One of the guards hid his young face beneath a black helmet and face mask, only his eyes were revealed. He was curious to know more about Batman. “So you are real.” He said to Batman, “The guys are not gonna believe this!   So why bats, huh?” No response came from Batman as they marched down the long echoing hallway.

            “He ain’t the type for talking, son.” Said the commissioner. They came to a door with a hatch. One of the guards inserted a key into the heavy metal door and with a great strain, turned the hatch and thrust the door open.

            The guard went first, followed by Batman. It was a dark and empty room. The concrete walls were far spaced apart and the lights didn’t reach as far as the sealing which seemed to loom in the far off abyss. In the middle of the room was a small, polished metal table. And there sat the Joker, hands folded, legs together. He bowed his head letting shadows crawl across his face. He smiled, his eyes were yellow slits.

            Batman pulled out his chair and took a seat. He lay his hands flat on the table, Joker had his folded in a polite manor. Batman leaned toward the Joker. “What are you trying to pull this time, Joker?” said Batman. Joker chuckled and suddenly his face became dopy and depressed, “I just want to be normal, bats. I want to change!” he said in a whiny tone, “All those senseless beatings you gave me finally opened my eyes.”

            Batman leaned back into the shadows, stroking his chin. “And what happened to the Joker who thought normality was a joke? A disguise for the true freaks?” Joker waved his hand in rejection, “That Joker is long gone. I want to change! Why is that so hard to believe?” Joker flashed Batman an attempted wide-eyed adorable smile; the kind a dog gives its master when he’s torn up a piece of furniture.

            “Probably because the last one you said that to was Harley.” He answered. Joker’s eyes went narrow and his smile vanished, locks of his stained green hair hung in front of his eyes. He leapt forward, nearly clawing at Batman’s face. “WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DECIDE IF I CAN BE HUMAN AGAIN?!” he shouted. Without flinching, Batman took a handful of his hair and slammed his head against the table, then drove the blades on his forearm into the table right in front of the Joker’s face. “You promise me you aren’t working an angle?” He asked in a deeply serious monotone voice. The Joker looked up, or rather sideways, due to his position, and nodded, “Uh-huh.”

            Batman wrenched the blades free of the table and let go of the Joker. “Good.” Joker crawled back into his seat and adjusted his neck, he looked at Batman, “Batsy, you complete me.” He whispered.

            Without a word, Batman got up from his chair and walked to the door where the guard awaited him. “Let’s see where this goes.” He said to the guard before leaving.

            Commissioner Gordon awaited him in the hallway. “You’re gonna give ‘im a chance?” he asked. Batman continued walking, “What choice do we have?” said Batman. Gordon rushed after him. “But you of all people should know when he’s trying to work us over!” he shouted. “There’s no way of knowing if Joker’s lying or telling the truth.” Said Batman, “We just have to wait and see.”

            They went out the front Gate. Jim’s Cadillac sat parked next to the sleek and glorious Batmobile. Batman clicked a button on his belt and the canopy roof slid across the hood, exposing the seat and steering wheel. Gordon stepped in front of Batman. “What if he’s got some new trick up his sleeve?” Batman passed Gordon and jumped up atop the Batmobile. “I’m counting on it.”

            He ducked inside of the Batmobile. The roof and windshield zoomed over his head and the car sped away.

            Dr. Lonna Kofka sat at her desk in Arkham. The shades cast a slotted shadow across the room, stopping at the book case. She took a last glance at the Joker’s file before they she heard the buzz of the front desk. “Send them in!” she shouted into the white buzzer on her desk and in moments, two Arkham guards escorted the Joker in wearing a straight jacket.

            They roughly shoved him into the chair in front of Dr. Kofka’s desk. “Watch it boys!” proclaimed the Joker, “I’ve got a nice suit under here!” The guards left, slamming the door behind them.

Lonna folded her hands and glanced at the Joker through her glasses. “So you’re the Joker.” She said. Joker scoffed, “Please, toots, don’t act so nonchalant with me. From the day you walked in here, you’ve dreamt of treating me! Every doctor in this godforsaken joint has! You want your name in all the journals. So don’t pretend that we’re just casually meeting for the first time. Show me what you know!” he laughed.

Lonna removed her glasses and slid them to the end of the desk. She took a deep breath in, “The Joker, a psychopathic, schizophrenic, in denial jester. In love with himself almost as much as he is with the thought of destruction. Murderous, outgoing, manipulative and highly self involved. His list of aliases is nearly as big as his ego and his murders consist of comical gags that tie deeply to dementia caused  most likely by a traumatic and misogynistic environment as a child.” A pompous smile slowly stretched across her face.

Joker leaned back in his chair. “So Dr. Kofka has done her homework.” He whispered. Dr. Kofka had studied the Joker intensively since her days in school. She was sure she would be the one to finally cure him. “So you say you’re finally willing to renounce your ways?” she said to him.

Joker crossed his legs. “Yes, I want to give up the rat race, or is it bat race?” he said, “Anyway, I’m done! The murder game’s been good to me, but I’m ready to try and fit in. I want to get a job and settle down with Harley.” Dr. Kofka tapped her pencil on the desk, analyzing the Joker’s words. “Harleen Quinzel? The psychiatrist you drove mad five years ago and has been your lapdog ever since?” she asked, pointing the pen at the Joker.

“What can I say? Harley knows how to pick ‘em!” said the Joker, “She’s no nutcase. She’ll do what I say. And if I say we stop killing people, then she’ll stop!”

After a long silence, Joker shook out his sleeve and pulled out a deck of cards. He straitened them against the desk. “I want to play a little game.” He said, “Is that alright with you?” Lonna nodded to him and he spread the cards out in an arch across the desk face down.

            Lonna pinched a card and turned it around to see that it was the joker of the deck. She threw the card. It sped through the air and with a metallic clang, it dug into the wooden wall. Dr. Kofka smirked at the Joker. “You don’t think I find you predictable?” she said. Joker stirred in his chair. Lonna leaned in towards him, “Now let’s get started, shall we?” she whispered, “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

Days passed as Dr. Kofka treated the Joker. Her notes showed that he was taking great strides and that he was truly on the verge of a breakthrough. Two months passed. Croc’s execution was drawing near, and it had been announced that it would be televised. Poison Ivy was being prepped for the vaccine to turn her back to normal and Batman’s shadow still loomed over Gotham.

Joker shuffled in his chair. He was restless and curious to see what Dr. Kofka had in store for him today.

The sun glowed behind Lonna’s head, casting a majestic halo of light through the outer strands of her silky brown hair. She sat a box on her desk and lifted the lid off. “I want to try something new today, Joker.” She said to him, “A trust exercise. Is that alright with you?” he nodded. His twisted red lips twitched with excitement.

She dug her hand into the box and stirred things around inside. “You’ve really been coming along lately and I’m very proud of you.” She said to him in a condescending manor, “So I’ve decided to see how you react when I give you back one of your old props.” She unveiled the shining steel handle of one of his old butterfly knives. Joker’s eyes went wide and he extended his hands to take it from her.

She dropped it into his palms and Joker felt like a piece of him long lost was now returned to him. He coupled it in his hand, then let it slip. The handle broke in two and he pinched one half, letting the other swing freely on a hinge. Twirling it around with beautiful form, he swung the two halves of the handle back together, revealing the blade. He let the knife grow comfortable in his hand. The form of the steel mold fit him perfectly as he held it to the shining sun.

Lonna looked at him with eager eyes. “How do you feel?” she asked. Joker was looking attentively down at the knife when his head slowly turned towards Lonna at a slant. His grim smile grew and his face became tense with excitement. “Oh, Dr. Kofka,” he whispered, “You just made me the happiest man on earth!”

Joker burst through the door holding Dr. Kofka. He slid the blade across her skin as she struggled to break free. The other doctors and orderlies dropped what they were doing. “Stand back ladies and gentlemen!” cried the Joker, “The Great Joker is about to show you a magic trick and make all the blood in Little Ms. Doctor here disappear!”

Lonna jerked around but Joker only squeezed his arm tighter around her neck. Joker kept his back against the wall and the knife fixed on her neck. Lonna struggled to speak. “You’re despicable!” she hissed. Joker laughed his sadistic laugh. “Oh, Dr. Kofka, you of all people should have seen this coming!” he cackled, amused by himself, “Why else would I put up with your psychobabble prattling for so long? You really thought you could change me? HA! That makes me want to laugh! … Well, everything does, really.”

The people in the hallway gathered around the scene. A few guards pushed their way through the building crowd. They inched toward the Joker but he straightened himself against the wall, pulling Lonna closer, a single thin stream of dark red ran down the side of her neck. “Up-up-up! One step closer and I spill her all over the floor!”

The guards tried to calm him down. “It’s okay!” said one of the guards, “Just tell us what you want!” Joker smiled, “Shut down all the power in Intensive Treatment!” he shouted.

The guard scoffed at the Joker, “That’s crazy!” he said. “Calling a madman’s plan crazy isn’t much of a demotion now do it or Dr. Kofka dies! How hard is that to understand?!” shouted the Joker. The guards backed off. “Okay.” Said the guard, “We’re working on it! Just sit tight!”

From beneath Lonna’s glasses came a single tear streaking her face. Joker smeared it with his thumb. “Now, now. No tears.” He whispered, “You played a huge role in the grandest riot of all time! I thank you for your foolishness!”

Joker shuffled his feet, inching sideways as he came to a window. He looked out and saw across the courtyard, the lights flickering and at last, giving out. The roars of the ravenous inmates echoed through the thick walls and above them all, came the roar of Killer Croc.

The guards rushed back to the Joker. “Okay, it’s done.” Said the guard, “Now hand her over.” Wave after wave of guards rushed into Intensive Treatment but hope of containing the inmates was slim. “Oh, you’ll get her back, gentlemen.” He stood directly in front of the window. “Right after I teach her to fly!” With the handle of his knife, he shattered the glass and leapt out of the window, throwing Lonna in front of him. Her shriek was heard amidst the chaos as she toppled down five stories, Joker right behind her.

She smacked against the pavement, cushioning the Joker’s fall. He crawled off of her, straightened his clothes and walked away. He snickered as the world around him was beginning to crumble. The great Arkham riot had begun.

Joker first broke into the room containing patients’ personal items to be returned to them on the day that they were deemed sane and released. So the only way Joker could get his items back was to break in and steal them. He looked through the boxes on the shelves by name. “Riddler, Ivy, Penguin, Freeze, Zasz, Croc…” their real names were written on the boxes but Joker still read them by alias. He ran his fingers across the boxes until coming to the end of the shelf. “AHA! Joker!” he shouted. He threw the other boxes aside and ripped off the lid of his box. “Oh babies! I’ve missed you so!” He scooped up an armful of items and held them close to his chest like he was hugging them. He took his other butterfly knife, a well disguised canister of Joker Toxin (the guards thought it was a tennis ball) and a copy of Rocky Horror Picture Show. And beneath it all was his pinstripe suit. Neatly folded tattered purple overcoat, yellow shirt, purple necktie, pinstripe pants to match the coat, and of course, his stained white gloves.

He threw off the Arkham uniform and dressed himself respectively. As he straightened his suit, three Arkham guards busted down the door and pointed their pistols at him. “Don’t move, clown!” they commanded. Joker chuckled and slowly raised his hands. “Good work, gentlemen, you got me!” he said, “And as a reward…” he took the tennis ball and tossed it to them. One of the guards caught it and clutched it tightly in his hand, releasing the gas inside.

Green fumes leaked from the ball. The guard dropped it immediately but the Joker Toxin was already in the air. The guards gasped and began to cough, choking on the gas. They couldn’t breathe and slowly began to chuckle, then fully and uncontrollably laugh. Their eyes were filled with pain and fear but their forced smiles only grew, their gums became exposed as their teeth clenched tighter.

As their smiles grew, the corners of their lips began to tear and bleed. Joker knelt and laughed with one of them, not noticing that another guard desperately crawled out of the room and grabbed on to a red box on the wall, hoisting himself up. The glass on the box said BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY. The guard quickly shattered the glass and took the syringe inside, driving it into his thigh and injecting the fluid into his bloodstream.

His laughter began to subside and was finally silenced. His smile slowly faded although it still left heavy marks on his face. He separated the thick fog of toxin with his hand and looked on in horror as his counterparts dropped to the floor dead.

Joker stepped over the pile of bodies and looked down at the surviving guard, then moved his eyes down to the empty syringe. “Oh, that’s right. Batman made an antidote. Why does batsy always have to ruin my fun?!” The guard panted deeply, trying to catch his breath, but between fear and recovery from the gas, was unable to. Joker quietly chuckled in his throat. “No matter.” He said, pulling one of his butterfly knives from his pocket, twirling the handle and catching it, exposing the blade, “Fortunately, I know more than one way to put a smile on your face.”

He tapped one foot on the floor, the guard’s heart skipped a beat, the other, the guard looked up, petrified, unable to speak. As Joker drew closer, the guard struggled to open his chapped and strained lips, but could not scream.

That was AWESOME!! AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME!!!!

ARKHAM RIOT!  Joker is a treacherous bastard.