Hey, everyone! This story is my first story for the Batman comics, although I've been meaning to write one for a while. Taken from the idea of my best friend's (Kureno Sohma) fic "Why So Serious?", this story is a high school tale of Gotham's favorite civilians. It's from the Joker's, or Jack Napier's, point of view and involves his childhood as well as his high school life. I'm not quite sure where this will go, meaning towards if he will be paired with someone, etc, etc, but it does show some homosexual views, as with Bruce, and some abuse things, and also some statutory-type things, so if that kind of thing offends you, I advice you not to read. This fic is pretty dark, but there will be some humor involved, and it shows how Jack came to be the Joker. (I'm a strong believer that chemicals can't change your personality along with your looks. Remember what happened when he fell into that vat of chemicals? He started laughing his head off, as if he suddenly became insane. This story leads up into how he became the insane person that he is.) With that, here it is- Primrose Path.
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman™, DC, or any of the characters. Arkham High, the Joker's parents, and anything else that doesn't fit the real story, all belong to me.
Dedication: I dedicate this entire story to my very best friend, Andie, AKA Kureno Sohma. She is the greatest! I love her so much! She's been there for me when I have problems, and makes me laugh even when my entire day was crap! Thanks for being there! GIRL BUDDIES!"Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water," Shakespeare.
I think this phrase from Shakespeare's Henry VIII really goes to heart with the Joker. How I conceive this phrase is that we all see the bad side of people, but their good side is hidden. The Joker's bad intentions everyone is aware of, but what we can't see, the part that's hidden in the water, are the things he values, the good in him. Please take this to heart as you read my story. This is the story that includes the Joker's values, the Joker's good side. Here it is, Primrose Path.
"Would you like to tell me how you got those cuts, Mr. Napier?" The ticking of the clock, the smell of dry-erase markers, all of the things fit the mood in that little room they call the school shrink's office. A wood color-painted plastic table was the only thing that separated us, in a physical state. Mentally, well, that was a different story.
"You look good today, Ms. Quinzel," I told her flatly, looking her in those bright, blue eyes of hers, the one's that were hidden by a pair of black-rimmed circular glasses. "You should wear your hair down more often." At the compliment, she started to fidget with the locks of golden blonde hair that were strewn across her shoulders.
By the look on her face, I could tell she wanted to say, "you really think so?", but her mindset told her otherwise, for that would have been unprofessional, blah, blah, blah.
"Thank you, Mr. Napier, but that's not what we're here to discuss." Smart choice of words, Ms. Quinzel. You're getting better at this.
She was a fairly new doctor- straight out of college. Why she wanted to be a school psychologist was beyond me. Sure, Arkham High was filled with wackos, but not nearly as many as, say, an asylum would be. That's the thing that psychologists were attracted to, I presumed; the insane people. Maybe she just wasn't up for the task, though. Or maybe she really liked this job. Whatever the reason, she was here, and that was that.
Principal Gordon had sent me down to her office countless times- whether it be for the fights that broke out with Bruce Wayne; of course, being the gazillionaire that he was, he didn't have to actually go, or if I exited a classroom just because I felt like it, or even if I had a few cuts and bruises on my face; I'd always have to go. And Ms. Quinzel was quite acquainted with me in more ways than one, if you get my drift.
No, I hadn't instigated any of it- believe me, it was all her, but I believe the term is called statutory rape. Although we hadn't quite gotten that far, I believe some of her intentions might have been in that jurisdiction.
Anyway, no matter what I did, she flirted and prodded at my mind, trying to get answers out of me. I think that's why she did it. She was simply curious.
"Tell me, Mr. Napier," she said as she stood from her spot to walk over to me. "Tell me how you got those scars." She stood ahead of me, hands at her hips as she waited for an answer. Obviously, I wasn't going to give her one, but it was as if just then that she realized it, for she bent down to me – and when she did so, she was a fair bit shorter, I might add, - to look me in the eye.
"Would you tell me in a more... secluded area?" With that, she reached into her shirt and took out a slip of paper. Had she been planning this? She put it into my palm, smiling as she tucked my fingers over-top of it. It was probably her address or her phone number or something, but whatever it was, I was going to throw it away the minute I left that room.
"I'm going to go to lunch, Ms. Quinzel," I told her, standing up. She stood as well, grabbing my hand to hold me back.
"I didn't dismiss you, yet," she said. I rolled my eyes and turned to her. She had pressed her lips against mine the instant I turned around.
"Now just tell me one thing," she said into my ear. "Will you take me up on that offer?" I hesitated, then said right back,
"Goodbye, Ms. Quinzel." I turned and walked out of there, throwing her little note in the trash. Women were sick, disgusting, and vile creatures. I couldn't tell anyone about her, though- what would they do, call my parents? They weren't any better. When Mother wasn't urging on Father as he used me as a human punching bag, she'd be bribing me with my own dinner, and if everything wasn't her way, I'd get no supper, nor would I get breakfast. Sometimes she'd even treat me to horrid things which she'd forcibly shove down my throat, such as minor things from cat litter to pieces of paper- anything that wouldn't kill me but wouldn't be that great going down.
Now that I'd gotten older, though- I was about 17, I could resist these things, so she got a little worse. She'd shove me outside in the blistering heat, or on the coldest night in winter, sometimes just for kicks. Other times she'd come at me with a knife, just to scare me, or just to scratch me up a bit. Father used more... violent methods, such as resorting to stabbing me in the arm, or breaking my nose like he did when I was nine.
Sometimes I'd just lay there on the broken down cot they call a bed, shivering in the basement's coldness, plotting my parents' demise. How I enjoyed to imagine the look on my mother's face as I tore apart her jaw, her form still twitching with life as she couldn't even emit a scream. Then I'd find whatever I could and shove it down her throat. Sharp things, though, like tacks, pins, maybe even tooth picks- things that wouldn't kill her, but wouldn't be that great going down. And I'd laugh... I'd laugh in her face!
And Father... Oh, the things I'd do to him. First I'd cut him up, see how he'd like that. Then I'd punch him, over and over and over again until he lie there in a bloody pulp. Then I'd--
-- Doink! Something hard hit me in the back of the head as I made my way past the lunch tables. I turned and saw who? None other than Bruce Wayne and his annoying little buddies. There was his girlfriend Rachel- pretty girl, but incredibly stupid, and then there was Dent, Harvey Two-Face Dent, aka burn victim. His house burnt down last year along with his parents, but he made it out of there with half his face gone. Didn't know whether to call the guy lucky or unlucky.
Those three just sat there, laughing at me, giving Bruce a high five. It looks like he was the one who threw the... and now I saw it, apple, at me. The half-eaten fruit roll back and fourth on the ground until it came to a stop near a pillar.
I walked up to the group rather calmly, and when I approached them they all stopped laughing.
"If you have something to say, Wayne," I began, pointing my finger right at Bruce. "Then say it to my face."
"Can't you take a joke?" he asked, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. "It was all in good fun, Napier." I took his vulnerable position into notice and slugged him right in the face. He fell flat on his back, only to try to get up. But I was already on him. As I bashed his head in, I couldn't help but think of my Father. I'd laugh in his face!
"Stop it, you two!" I heard someone scream. It was Rachel. She tried to pry me off of him, but as soon as she did, her little boyfriend took it to his advantage to kick me right where it counts. I winced but barely gave him the chance to do it again before I kneed his solar plexus.
"Cut it out!" People were starting to make a commotion now, and teachers began to rush over to us. Mr. Gordon himself pried me off of him, Ms. Quinzel standing in between us. And of course, in the position we were in, it looked as if Bruce were the innocent one. Sure, the guy throws an apple at me and kicks me in the junk, but no, I was the bad one.
"What were you THINKING?!" Mr. Gordon scolded me as he pushed me to the side. I was bleeding, but not as bad as perfect little Bruce, I might add.
"Does it matter? No one takes my opinion into perspective, anyway."
"You know what?" Mr. Gordon said, prodding my in the chest with his index finger. "I am sick and tired of this, Napier! I really don't want to expel you, really, I don't, but if you keep this up, I'll have no choice!" I gave a long, endearing sigh at this one. Of course he wanted to expel me. He just felt sorry for me. Even though he did, he still could care less at what I thought. But oh well. Being expelled wasn't the highest point on my worry list.
"Mr. Gordon, do you want me to talk with him again?" I heard Ms. Quinzel say from behind me. Mr. Gordon shook his head.
"Harleen, I'm sure your a fine psychologist, but whatever you're saying just isn't getting through to him. We'll have to go to... higher resorts." Well, at least I wouldn't have to talk to the coquettish shrink again, but what could these "higher resorts" really be? Please don't say...
"Come on, Jack. We're going to call your parents."
There it is, you guys! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! The only thing I really had trouble with was the fact that Harley was older than the Joker... Oh well! I thought being a school psychiatrist would be a good job for her – fitting, don't you think? (Another thing was the fact that she took advantage of him instead of the other way around.) Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!