|Agent of Chaos
Author: XFauxAfflictionX PM
Batman managed to successfully incarcerate The Joker in Arkham Asylam approximately one month after the events that took place in "The Dark Knight." Now, the Joker must manage to seduce his new shrink, Harleen Quinzel, into helping him escape.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Sci-Fi - Joker - Chapters: 8 - Words: 12,877 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 12-16-08 - Published: 12-14-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4717538
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It wasn't difficult to get out of that final door. With no one guarding it, we could just slip out. We walked about halfway into the foyer of Arkham, when Joker stopped, pulling on my hand to make me do the same.
"What?" I said, turning to him. "We need to get outta here before more guards show up."
"I know," he said, turning toward the offices. "I've just had an epiphany."
He walked into the offices, found Gordon's, and entered. It made me wonder where Gordon was. And Bricker, for that matter.
The Joker flipped on the lights, and started rummaging through Gordon's desk drawers.
"What are you looking for?" I said hastily, beckoning him to leave.
"Ah ha!" he declared, and pulled the box of cigars from Gordon's top drawer. He bit off the end, spit it onto Gordon's desk, and retrieved a pack of matches from the bottom of the box. He lit it, and took a long drag.
"Come on, we don't have time for this," I said, bouncing on my heels.
"Ah ah ah," he said, waving a finger at me like a parent would do to a naughty child.
He lit another match, picked up a few of Gordon's papers, and held it under them. They caught quickly, and he threw them onto the desk, where they began to slowly ignite the others. He smiled.
"Now we can go," he said merrily, and took my hand again.
I led him outside to my car, where he graciously opened the door for me, blowing a ring of smoke around my face.
"Thanks, puddin'," I said, using a nickname that I would come to adopt for him in the coming years.
As I drove down the long driveway of Arkham, approaching the bridge at the bottom, I thought about my house. I couldn't go back there, ever. That guard would tell the authorities that it was me, and they would raid it. I thought about the letter I'd written before I'd gone to bed that night before the breakout. My mother would cry when they let her read it:
To my friends and family:
You were right to warn me against this job. I wonder now if you knew something I didn't. I'm glad I got to say goodbye, because the truth is, I won't see you again. Somehow, someway, I've fallen in love with him. He got under my skin, and I let him. But the truth is, I wanted him to. For years, I've been waiting, begging for someone to release me from this mundane, repetitive life. I've spent years listening to other people's problems. But not once did anyone stop to listen to mine. I suppose everyone thought I was a successful businesswoman and I couldn't possibly have any problems. Well I did, and he can fix them. He makes me feel right, like I belong with him. And that's how it's going to stay. Just know that I love you, always have, and always will.
I never referred to myself as Harleen again. I didn't even recognize her. She must have died that night in her sleep, and only Harley Quinn woke up.
I trashed all those thoughts as I reached the end of the bridge, and pulled over. I got out of the car, and looked back at Arkham. It was smoking now, and bright orange flames could be seen crawling out the windows. The Joker looked at me questioningly.
"I thought you wanted to get out of here?" he said past the cigar as he got out of the car with me.
I walked over to the stone bridge, and crawled around to the lower side of it. He followed and watched me intently.
"Um," I began. "Hey babe, can I have your cigar?"
"Aw, I just lit it," he complained, but handed it to me.
That pit stop I made on my way here this morning. Yeah, I loaded the underside of the bridge with fifty pounds of TNT. And I used the cherry of the cigar to light the fuse.
"You might wanna stand back," I said, and scurried past him.
As we reached about thirty feet back from the bridge, I noticed at least twenty patrol cars coming down the driveway, Gordon's black Cadillac in the lead.
I grinned, counting down on my fingers.
Five, four, three, two…
The blast was so powerful that my hearing went silent for a few seconds. The earth beneath us shook, and bricks sprayed everywhere. The patrol cars across the bridge slammed on their brakes just before they reached it, and the flames could be seen dancing in the reflections of their windshields.
Later on, news reports would declare that bricks were found several miles away, and that the people in the neighborhood below, called Gotham Heights, all heard the blast and smelled the smoke for hours.
The Joker and I stood, admiring the flames for only a little while. We knew Gordon would call for reinforcements, and that their only way in was our only way out. But we admired them nonetheless.
I leaned against the Joker, snaking my arms around him, my right went under his trench coat in the front, my other wound around his back. I held him close and he didn't seem to mind. He laughed as he watched Commissioner Gordon, pacing on the opposite side of the now demolished bridge, cursing at the two of us.
"Toto," he said, stroking my head.
"Yes," I replied, somehow knowing he was talking to me.
"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."FIN