The Last Laugh
The cops escorted him inside and led him to one of the emptier holding cells with his hands tightly handcuffed behind his back. He didn't say anything; he had no urge to, especially considering how jumpy they were. Really, was it all really necessary? Shoving him bodily inside, they freed his arms and, with one final push of the shoulder, slammed the door behind him.
Ah, prison. He'd missed it. His two other cell mates stared at him as he casually walked by and sat himself in the middle of the bench running the length of what was, more or less, his cage. And it was his as long as he was there. He ignored the cat calls from behind him and the uneasy glances of the officers milling around in front of him.
He'd suddenly become an exhibition for all to see and they did little to hide their curiosity... or their nerves. But the Joker didn't respond to any of this. He stared ahead, his expression its usual twisted grin of amusement, keeping an eye on the door through which he'd just arrived. Now, this. This would be an interesting night.
He was surprised to be here at all really. It wasn't like him to allow for such fatal errors that could result in his capture. He wasn't that idiotic but, if he were honest with himself, he'd been fooled. Gordon had really had him convinced. Of course, there was still room to correct the oversight. But first...
Eyes that seemed black against the harsh whiteness of his make-up watched as Gordon entered and he made sure to catch the Lieutenant's eye. I'm coming, he promised him, his smile seeming to stretch even longer across his painted face. I'm coming for ya. You'll see.
"Commissioner Gordon!" The applause at the Joker's expense seemed to turn his eyes darker, his smile all the more dangerous. He joined in, applauding the man who had so brilliantly tricked him and with all the promise that, eventually, he would even the score.
The Joker would have the last laugh.