Batman fic: Pratfall

[xt1me]

What's this?
2 fics in one week? I almost feel productive.

 

It was a dark night in Arkham Asylum.

It was always dark in Arkham.
Even during the day, shadows seemed to cling to its walls.

Money that was spent on Arkham went to security and other necessities (or was embezzled) not towards brightening up the place. Even when new, state of the art equipment was brought in. New bulbs always flicker since they were connected to old wiring. Shiny metal soon corroded under the damp air from the sea. No matter how sturdy, nothing lasted when it was built on old bones. And Arkham’s bones were as old and rotting as they come.

 

In a dark lonely corridor lay one the Asylum’s more infamous residents.

The corridor was sparsely populated. No one wanted to give him new playmates to torment so the cells on either side and across from him were empty. It wouldn’t last of course. Someday soon overcrowding would force others in close proximity again. Maybe even a roommate to twist and turn as he pleased. Just a little something to pass away the time between more interesting pursuits. Never let it be said that the Joker didn’t like to keep himself busy.

But for now he was alone.

Or he was.

The Jokers laugh echoed down the hall as he noticed the light from the camera pointing to his cell turn off.

“Oh, who could be visiting little old me?” the Joker crooned, “Batsy, is that you? Have you missed me?”

A figure moved silently into the small pool of illumination from the faded blub in his cell. Behind the bars the figure may have loomed like the Bat, but was dressed distinctly different.

The man was wearing a crimson helmet, featureless save for its white lensed eyes. Heavy body armor under a leather jacket made it clear this man was a fighter.

“Oh, you’re new,” Joker said delighted, “who might you be?”

“Red Hood.” The synthesized voice betrayed no emotion.

“Well, well, well, that name’s familiar.” Joker made a show of looking like he was thinking, “Why, I do believe that used to be my name.” He spread his arms wide, “Are you a fan?”

“Not quite.”

The Red Hood held up something in his gloved hand, Joker had just enough time to recognize it before it was tossed lazily into his cell. He caught the object; it was one of his old joy buzzers. Not one of the electric ones, one of the ones that delivered Joker Venom. He cackled even as the pin pricked his hand, he was immune to it of course.

“Oh, another blast from the past,” he crowed, “now I am curious.”

 Red Hood just stood there.

“Not much of a talker are you,” Joker shook his head, “well that something we can work on. Now tell me, why should I let you come work for me.”

Still nothing from the man.

“Now, now don’t be shy,” Joker’s voice turned dark, “We wouldn’t want t-” Jokers threat cut off as a numbness spread throughout his body.

“-ack” Suddenly unable to move, all he could do was watch as the door to his cell finally opened.

“It’s a fast-acting neurotoxin,” Red Hood explained, stepping inside. “It’s just a paralytic, it dissipates in about an hour. Maybe less for you. I know some things haven’t affected you since your little chemical dip. But I won’t need that long.”

Hood moved passed and started doing something to the bed. Joker couldn’t turn his head to see.

“I had plans you know? Grand plans. Involving Batman and everything. You would have loved it. Of course, that’s the problem,” Hood stepped back to look at the Joker, “you would have loved it.”

Grabbing Joker with one hand Red Hood looked into his wide-open eyes.

“Besides, I was being selfish. Every second you’re alive is another second you can use to torment more people. Someone should have put you down the moment they realized you would never change. Batman should have done it years ago. But that’s what you want, isn’t it.

Well, I don’t care what you want.
Maybe I could have gotten though his thick head that we would have all been better off without you. Maybe not. But I can’t stomach the thought of you getting the last laugh like that.

So let me tell you what’s going to happen.

You’re going to die here. All alone in your cell. The cops will rule it an accident. You somehow managed to trip and fall, banging your head and cracking it open.
What an ignoble end to the so called Clown Prince of Crime.

Sure, the papers will have a field day for a bit. ‘Joker’s final Pratfall’, ‘City Finally Laughs at Clown’, ‘Harley’s ex-boyfriend Gets His Comeuppance’ I don’t know, I’m not a reporter. I’m sure they’ll come up with something.

And the entire city will breathe a bit easier. Maybe they’ll even be a party.

But’s that’s all.

Batman will close his case on you and concentrate on other things. Other Rogues will take people’s attention. Everyone will have more important things to think about.

Maybe one day someone look back on old Gotham criminals and ask, hey, wasn’t there one that had a circus gimmick? What ever happened to that guy? And that’s all you’ll be. Some name on a list somewhere, only put in for completions sake.

No one’s going to miss you.

No one’s going to fear you.

You’ll be forgotten.”

Hood picked up a pillow and gently placed in on the Joker’s face so as not to leave any hand shaped bruises. He ignored the fast breaths coming from the clown, lungs the only thing he was able to move. Carefully he positioned himself to get the proper leverage.

“How’s that for a joke?”

He slammed the Joker’s head on the corner of the metal frame of the bed. The cold stone walls echoing in the sound down the corridor. But, of course, nobody came.

Tossing the pillow back on the bed, the man stood there silently. A preset timer counting down until the toxin dissolved. The looming presence simply watched. He moved only once, to step away from the slowing expanding pool of blood. The breathing had long since stopped when the timer finish.

A lone figure moved like a ghost away from Arkham Asylum.

One silent corridor was left undisturbed until morning.