War Paint, Part 01/?
I am undecided as to whether or not I want this to be a chaptered fic, or if I want to leave it at that.
War Paint
Batman; Gen; Joker-Centric; PG-13
Armed with a cup of coffee, Doctor Clyde Reese sits opposite a man referred to as "The Joker." Reese had heard tales of the nature of the man, but hadn't thought much of it. (Boy, I'm in for a day.) He had slipped on his coat and pinned on the mandatory Arkham Asylum name badge and left for the day without a second thought.
"So you're called the Joker, eh?"
"I don't see why it matters."
The other man was a sight to see. Makeup accentuating his facial scars, stringy green hair. Not something you would see very often apart from a rebellious teenager.
"I suppose not. I suppose not," Reese mumbled. "Tell me about you so I can see what I'm working with."
"Doc, what you're working with? I'm not a problem." His tongue flicked at the Doctor.
"Just...work with me please."
"I don't like hamburgers. Is that relevant enough? What does that say about me? That I...that I differentiate from the norm? Really? What else can you tell me, Doc? Nothing I couldn't tell myself."
"Hamburgers don't mean anything. You like what you like."
Doctor Reese had dealt with difficult patients before, but this clown was was a whole different breed.
The Joker eyed the round man. "I'm guessing you like hamburgers," he pursed his lips. "Doctor, how did you get to work today?"
"I drove."
"What if I told you that tomorrow your car would blow up? What would you say?"
"I would think you were full of shit. There's no way you could get out of here and, even if you could, you don't know what car I drive."
The Joker laughed. "Let's say I did."
"I wouldn't drive to work tomorrow. I would carpool. I'd put your ass in jail."
An elderly man entered the room with a phone. "It's your wife, she said she tried your cell phone but you didn't answer."
"I'm in the middle of something," the Doctor sighed.
"She said it's urgent. You know I wouldn't bother you otherwise."
"Be my guest, doc," the Joker smiled.
---
"Fuck you!" Reese kicked his chair towards the Joker.
"Oh?" smile still in place.
"My daughter was in a car accident. Her car blew up!" Reese was fuming.
"And why on earth would that be my problem? After all, I don't know what kind of car you drive...or she drives. And besides, I could never get out of here."
"I know it was you and, if she dies, it's on you."
The Joker clicked his tongue. "It really sucks to be me then, doesn't it?"
The Doctor glared at him.
"Cheer up doc, smile! On the bright side, with your car already blown up and all, you can drive to work tomorrow with no fear!"
"You little shit. I don't have a car to drive in!"
"That is quite...a...predicament. Should've listened to me, eh?" a mock remorseful look crossed the Joker's face.
"It's funny isn't it? You think you're so protected...so sheltered from everything. You and your car and your keys and your job and helping people. But it doesn't really matter, does it? Because you're just as vulnerable as everyone else."
"Damn hilarious," Reese inhaled deeply, trying not to do anything that would cause death and loss of a job (but mostly loss of his job, he needed the money to pay the newfound medical bills.)
"You know, I wanted to put my daughter through college. I wanted her to have a good life. And someone like you is trying to screw it all up."
"Someone has an ego," the Joker sing-songed. "Thinking someone like me would waste all my precious time on sabotaging someone like you. I only have time for the Batman!"
"The Batman will put you away for good, buddy," Reese clenched his teeth. "Mark my words."
The Joker laughed as Reese left. (He didn't know it at the time, but that would be Reese's last day at Arkham Asylum.)
---
The Joker layed back in his chair, feet kicked up on the table. A woman dressed in the same attire as Reese, but with a name tag reading "Harleen Quinzel" entered.
"Where's the other guy?" The Joker inquired. "I kinda liked him."
"Gone. He was fired technically, but they said he could hold on to some pride and claim he resigned. I'm your new Doctor."
"What kind of name is Harleen?"
"What kind of name is the Joker?"
"Ha Ha Ha."
"Let's pick up where Reese left off." Doctor Quinzel pulled out a clipboard and a pen and scribbled a name at the top. (She would tell you it read Mr. Joker, he would say it didn't matter.)
"How did you get to work today?"
"I'm not answering that," she didn't look up. "Now Mr. J, tell me about some of the things you like."
"I like hamburgers."
War Paint
Batman; Gen; Joker-Centric; PG-13
Armed with a cup of coffee, Doctor Clyde Reese sits opposite a man referred to as "The Joker." Reese had heard tales of the nature of the man, but hadn't thought much of it. (Boy, I'm in for a day.) He had slipped on his coat and pinned on the mandatory Arkham Asylum name badge and left for the day without a second thought.
"So you're called the Joker, eh?"
"I don't see why it matters."
The other man was a sight to see. Makeup accentuating his facial scars, stringy green hair. Not something you would see very often apart from a rebellious teenager.
"I suppose not. I suppose not," Reese mumbled. "Tell me about you so I can see what I'm working with."
"Doc, what you're working with? I'm not a problem." His tongue flicked at the Doctor.
"Just...work with me please."
"I don't like hamburgers. Is that relevant enough? What does that say about me? That I...that I differentiate from the norm? Really? What else can you tell me, Doc? Nothing I couldn't tell myself."
"Hamburgers don't mean anything. You like what you like."
Doctor Reese had dealt with difficult patients before, but this clown was was a whole different breed.
The Joker eyed the round man. "I'm guessing you like hamburgers," he pursed his lips. "Doctor, how did you get to work today?"
"I drove."
"What if I told you that tomorrow your car would blow up? What would you say?"
"I would think you were full of shit. There's no way you could get out of here and, even if you could, you don't know what car I drive."
The Joker laughed. "Let's say I did."
"I wouldn't drive to work tomorrow. I would carpool. I'd put your ass in jail."
An elderly man entered the room with a phone. "It's your wife, she said she tried your cell phone but you didn't answer."
"I'm in the middle of something," the Doctor sighed.
"She said it's urgent. You know I wouldn't bother you otherwise."
"Be my guest, doc," the Joker smiled.
---
"Fuck you!" Reese kicked his chair towards the Joker.
"Oh?" smile still in place.
"My daughter was in a car accident. Her car blew up!" Reese was fuming.
"And why on earth would that be my problem? After all, I don't know what kind of car you drive...or she drives. And besides, I could never get out of here."
"I know it was you and, if she dies, it's on you."
The Joker clicked his tongue. "It really sucks to be me then, doesn't it?"
The Doctor glared at him.
"Cheer up doc, smile! On the bright side, with your car already blown up and all, you can drive to work tomorrow with no fear!"
"You little shit. I don't have a car to drive in!"
"That is quite...a...predicament. Should've listened to me, eh?" a mock remorseful look crossed the Joker's face.
"It's funny isn't it? You think you're so protected...so sheltered from everything. You and your car and your keys and your job and helping people. But it doesn't really matter, does it? Because you're just as vulnerable as everyone else."
"Damn hilarious," Reese inhaled deeply, trying not to do anything that would cause death and loss of a job (but mostly loss of his job, he needed the money to pay the newfound medical bills.)
"You know, I wanted to put my daughter through college. I wanted her to have a good life. And someone like you is trying to screw it all up."
"Someone has an ego," the Joker sing-songed. "Thinking someone like me would waste all my precious time on sabotaging someone like you. I only have time for the Batman!"
"The Batman will put you away for good, buddy," Reese clenched his teeth. "Mark my words."
The Joker laughed as Reese left. (He didn't know it at the time, but that would be Reese's last day at Arkham Asylum.)
---
The Joker layed back in his chair, feet kicked up on the table. A woman dressed in the same attire as Reese, but with a name tag reading "Harleen Quinzel" entered.
"Where's the other guy?" The Joker inquired. "I kinda liked him."
"Gone. He was fired technically, but they said he could hold on to some pride and claim he resigned. I'm your new Doctor."
"What kind of name is Harleen?"
"What kind of name is the Joker?"
"Ha Ha Ha."
"Let's pick up where Reese left off." Doctor Quinzel pulled out a clipboard and a pen and scribbled a name at the top. (She would tell you it read Mr. Joker, he would say it didn't matter.)
"How did you get to work today?"
"I'm not answering that," she didn't look up. "Now Mr. J, tell me about some of the things you like."
"I like hamburgers."