Arkham (Closed for Scarlettnuit)

When the guards came for him, he was hanging upside down in his cage. A normal cell did not permit the level of examination that the doctors desired.

“I’m a bat,” he crooned. “Flap flap flap.”

“Get the fuck down from there,” growled Jenkins, the most abusive of the guards. He was the Joker’s favorite.

A setup, grab, and release, and he had somersaulted down in front of the cage door. The guards recoiled in fear. All except Jenkins.

The Joker blew him a kiss. Jenkins stabbed him in the stomach with his nightstick. The Joker laughed in glee. “That’s why I like you, Jenk. You’re a man of action, rather than a man of thought.”

“Get dressed, sleaze ball.”

The Joker looked down, noticing for the first time that he was naked. He frowned. “Where did my clothes go?”

Jenkins sighed and put his head in his hand for a moment. “They were covered in blood. And brains.”

The Joker snapped his fingers. “Right, right, Smith. He shouldn’t have said those things.”

“The other inmates deny he said anything.”

The Joker pushed his face against the bars. “It’s all in the eyes, Jenkins. The eyes tell everything.”

Jenkins frowned. “Are you ready to tell us where his other eye went?”

The Joker laughed merrily again, and turned away to dress in the grey jumpsuit the prison had provided. Finally, the guards bound him in manacles, attached them in an X from wrist to foot, and led him away, cackling.

Dr. Quinn waited in her office for her newest patient. All of the files and clippings she had read about him were fascinating and she was eager to delve into his psyche. She was hoping that she would be the one to solve the puzzle of the Joker and prayed not to open Pandora’s box in the process. It was a risk she was willing to take and one that would pave a path to success as psychiatrist. Maybe after this she could get out of this stinking prison and work with people who might actually appreciate her help.

She stood up and looked at reflection in the glass of the window. It had wire running through it and bars on the outside, but it still served to bring some light into her office. She had dressed sensibly, a black business suit with a sensible skirt that came down to her knees, a tightly buttoned white blouse, with sensible black pumps. Her blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her make-up was lightly applied. She slipped on her white doctor’s coat, adjusted her black rimmed glasses and prepared for her most challenging client.

She jumped a little as three loud knocks sounded on her office door. She adjusted her glasses again and walked towards the door. She opened it and stood to the side as they wheeled the Joker in. She had negotiated that he be attached to a metal table and chair which were also bolted to the floor. She hoped this would give some semblance of normalcy to their sessions, hopefully earn a little trust.

She was still standing by the door as they moved him and then re-secured his restraints, a chain around his waist that attached to the chair, and his hand handcuffed to a bar that was welded to the top of the table. The guards gave her several looks as she motioned her hand for them to stand outside the door. While no one had particularly approved of her seeing him alone, she knew this was vital to process. This was the best she could negotiate.

Once the guards passed through the door she closed it behind them and then grabbed a file and a legal pad from her desk and then moved to the table to sit across from the Joker. She pulled a pen out of the chest pocket of her lab coat and clicked the nib down before resting her hands on the legal pad.

“Hello Mr. Joker, my name is Dr. Quinn. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been asked to evaluate and treat you,” she smiled softly. “I apologize for not being able to make you more comfortable, but this was the best I could negotiate,” She offered.

She did her best to look him in the eyes but there was something about them that made her look away. She had been told he was mad, and a psychopath, none of which she doubted, but there also seemed to be a sharp intellect behind his eyes, something that made him see through her which made it more difficult to control her nerves.

“Let us begin,” She started, trying to remain pleasant and professional, “What do you hope to get out of sessions Mr. Joker?” She asked, pen at the ready to take notes.

He licked his lips as the guards pushed him into the room. An instinctive move to brush his hair, thwarted by the manacles, left him off balance. While he staggered to his chair, he took stock of the newbie.

Trim, professionally dressed, sexy. A white blouse that would look so much better untucked, or maybe torn. Hair that longed for freedom. Glasses that failed to hide the desire for knowledge behind them. Seeing him as a puzzle, a problem to be solved.

He smiled. She wasn't the first, and probably wouldn't be the last.

He maintained his dignity as they fastened him to the table. So untrusting. Well, perhaps he had given them cause. A laugh bubbled out of him, and he followed it with a wide grin for the Doc, who had spoken.

"Mister Joker. Mister Joker. Respectful, considerate. You have the makings of a fine doctor, Doctor. Quinn, you say. Doctor Quinn. It has a nice ring to it. Perhaps you have a first name? I did, once, or so they tell me. But it's lost. Gone! Never to return."

He leaned back and regarded her. There was more in her eyes, more than a lust for knowledge. Something deeper, darker. Something that spoke to him in tones of blood red.

"Get out of sessions, doctor? I would hope to get out of here, of course. I am most cruelly imprisoned. Even my clothes, taken away. Do you know that?" His voice turned insinuating. "Perhaps at your request? Have you been watching me, Doctor Quinn? To what end? Are you just another admirer? I get letters, you know. Marriage proposals."

He leaned back, satisfied, and smiled at her. The non-threatening one. Well, as non-threatening as he could manage.

She studied him as he was brought in and stood proud and strong as his eyes roved over her, no doubt, taking measure. She sat now and studied his movements, his reactions to everything, taking mental notes to write down later.

When he responded to her question, she merely raised her right eyebrow a bit and smiled slightly in amusement.

“I’m sure you’re very sought after,” She said in a way that was meant to appease and nothing more, “and do you respond to them?” she asked, avoiding the question about her first name. “Perhaps you will also take into consideration that the more you cooperate with our sessions, the more I will be able to negotiate things for you, perhaps even some of your clothes, if that will make you more comfortable.”

This was mostly true as she was required to record their sessions and she knew that the warden would probably jack off to any kind of information she was able to get from the man that sat across from her. Where she felt her predecessors had failed was in their tone and approach. She hoped that talking to him and treating him as if he were just another human being would help her cause. Only time would tell.