Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC Comics.
A/N: Written for the "Symbol" theme at http://batfic-contest(dot)livejournal(dot)com.
A Cell With a View
This would not do.
This would not do at all.
The cell was dank, dark, dusty, cold, and had the distinct lingering odor of vomit and blood and perhaps something else.
Joker quite liked that part.
No, the problem was the cell was located in the interior wing of the asylum.
Green eyes flashed from one blank, stony wall to the next, to the other.
Not a window in sight.
Wearing a look of profound hurt, Joker turned to the guard, a large, dull fellow with absolutely no sense of humor who had escorted him to the cell, and sighed.
This would not do at all…
Evidence had to be taken and bloodstains had to be removed when the doctors discovered their newest patient sitting calmly in one corner of the cell, Frank's body in the other.
A temporary cell was needed.
Joker was moved during the daytime, and everyone breathed a secret sigh of relief when all appeared ordinary. He had taken to the new cell at once, sitting patiently by the window until nightfall, for what reason, no one knew.
When the day shift guard came in at dawn to relieve the one on night duty, he was irked to find Larry nowhere in sight. With a growing sense of disquiet, he unlocked the cell door, and discovered the mess.
A crumpled mass that was once called Larry was in the corner.
Joker frowned blankly at the guard's look of horror and said by way of explanation, "The window faces north."
Panic was starting to spread throughout the hospital staff.
Everyone was afraid. No one wanted the maniac in their sector.
Much arguing ensued amongst the staff and administrators, but once again, the paperwork was filled, and Joker found himself in yet another cell that night on the opposite side of the asylum.
There was a window, he noted with grave concern. So far, so good.
He rooted himself next to it and pressed his face up against the bars eagerly, like a little boy at a zoo waiting for the lion to come out of his den.
Several hours passed, and Joker began to worry. But then, he saw it.
He saw it.
Lighting up the sky to the south was his precious beacon, the one the G.C.P.D. had so kindly installed, seemingly for his benefit alone, the one symbol Joker had hoped to see.
For the first time since arriving at Arkham, Joker smiled, so widely that his face began to hurt. He didn't care.
The Batman was out there—waiting for him.
He sighed blissfully, and caressed the beloved bars that had brought him so great a view.
Time to put on a show.