Stop, Drop and Kill

Disclaimer: Don't own Batman or Joker or Scarecrow or anyone else I might throw in here that you recognize. I only own my OC.

I went insane on a Wednesday morning. There was nothing special about that day. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Everything in my carefully structured life was perfect. I woke up and got ready for work. I had some fruit for breakfast and bought a coffee on the way to work. I entered the bank through the front doors, greeted the doorman, had a few short conversations with a few clerks that I was on a first-name basis with and then made my way to my office. My assistant, Laura, brought me my second cup of coffee and offered me a blueberry muffin.

Such a sweet kid.

She gave me my schedule, which was crammed with back-to-back meetings, but that wasn't uncommon. I was a busy woman.

I ate my muffin and sipped my coffee slowly, savoring the taste. I can still taste the French vanilla. Five minutes later, I headed into a board meeting, fought with several arrogant men and a nasty bitch of a secretary. Then I had a private meeting with the President of the bank, who had always been a sexist pig. He was displeased with how I had handled the previous meeting and threatened to fire me on the spot.

When he left, I sat behind my desk and just stared at the closed door he'd disappeared behind. I held a sleek, silver pen with the bank logo on the side in my hand, tapping it on my desk calendar, which was covered with scribbles and post-its.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

My heart started beating a little faster, matching the fast tapping of my pen. Thoughts swirled in my head so fast it created a white haze over my eyes for a brief moment.

Suddenly, I stopped tapping the pen, everything around me and inside of me freezing. My heart seemed to halt in that instant, standing still, my blood freezing in my veins as one viciously angry thought surged to the front of my brain.

I hate this fucking place!

And then…nothing. I don't remember what happened after that. My last memory is thinking that thought. I can sometimes still feel the cool metal of that silver pen in my hands, that hideous bank logo glaring up at me. I can still taste my last coffee and my last blueberry muffin, which quite frankly, tasted like shit. The blueberries had been sour and the muffin had been dry and bitter.

Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when I woke up in Arkham Asylum, strapped to a bed in the infirmary. I wasn't frightened or even much confused. I was amused. I couldn't sit up because of the straps, but I could turn my head. The room was white. There's really no other way to describe it. It was white, but not a pretty white. It was a dirty white with age stains on the walls and a bit of mold in the corners. The room was wide and long, filled with many hospital beds. The beds and sheets were white, of course. White, white, white.

I also noticed, upon raising my head the few inches the straps allowed to look down at myself, that the jumpsuit that I wore was white.

I've never been a fan of white…

The infirmary was surprisingly empty. The curtains were drawn around the bed immediately to my right so I guessed someone was there. And three beds to my left lay a weeping man with fiery red hair. I really didn't want to know what he was weeping about.

The dirty white doors at the end of the infirmary suddenly swung open and a tall woman wearing a lab coat and a very blank expression came waltzing in.

She smiled, her expression softening, when she saw that I was awake. "Miss Williams, you're awake!" she exclaimed.

"Apparently," I retorted dully, raising an eyebrow at her. I didn't like her smile. It seemed so…fake.

"How are you feeling?" she said, now at my side with her back to the curtain. She pulled a thin flashlight from the pocket of her lab coat and flashed it in my eyes. "Feel any dizziness? Nausea? Experiencing any headaches?"

I narrowed my eyes at her, suddenly suspicious. "No," I growled. "Why?"

Her flashlight, which was silver and reminded me of my pen, hesitated over my face and her expression turned curious. She pulled her arm back and pocketed the flashlight.

"Miss Williams, do you know where you are?" she asked slowly, carefully.

My eyes flickered around the room again. I took a guess. "A hospital? If so, you really should look into getting that mold removed. It's unhealthy."

Her small frown told me I was wrong. About the hospital part, at least. "Miss Williams, this isn't exactly a hospital. This room here is the infirmary. We're in the maximum-security ward in Arkham Asylum. You were admitted seven days ago."

My jaw dropped a couple fractions and I gaped at her for a moment before snapping my jaw shut again. "Arkham. Maximum-security. Admitted seven days ago? I've been out that long?"

She hesitated. "Er, no. Not exactly. Technically, you've only been out for three days. You were mostly conscious before that."

My eyebrows shot up in surprised and I laughed in shock. "Seriously? I don't remember any of it." She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "May I ask what I've been admitted for? And who the hell are you?"

Her posture straightened as she introduced herself. "I'm Emily Morgans. I work as a nurse here." She hesitated before answering my other question. "Miss Williams, you had a bit of a mental breakdown last Wednesday…"

"And…?" I prodded, slightly amused. Me? Mental breakdown?

"And you killed six people." she said shortly, her expression blank again. Her dull blue eyes gave her away, though. They were dark with apprehension.

I stared at her for a moment, letting this information process. After a second, I felt some kind of pressure building in my chest, clawing its way up my throat.

I laughed. I laughed hard, my sides burning with it. I clenched my eyes shut against the tears that leaked from the corners of my eyes. The straps held me firmly in place as my whole body shook with violent laughter.

"Miss Williams! What is so funny?" Emily demanded, her hands on her hips and anger seeping into her features.

I laughed harder, unable to control myself.

A very pissed off and disgusted Emily Morgans turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, chased away by my psychotic laughter.

"Why are you here, Karma?" Dr. Arkham asked, his voice a low drawl.

I shot him my best innocent smile and raised my shackled hands to point at the thick file in his lap. "You have my file, you tell me."

He sighed impatiently. "Miss Williams—" he began, but I cut him off by asking, "You're too impatient, Doc. You have to be a patient person to be a shrink, don't ya?"

He looked about to roll his eyes, but managed to catch himself. "Miss Williams, do you remember you're last day at work? Do you remember what happened before you broke down?"

I yawned and leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs out in front of me. "Sure I remember. How could I forget? I ate the most disgusting blueberry muffin ever! I can still taste it in my mouth." I glared at him menacingly. "The food here is not much better, Doc. Maybe you should do something about that."

He completely ignored most of what I'd said. "What do you remember, Karma?"

I sighed. "Meetings. I had a couple meetings, I think. Yeah, one with the board and one with that sexist prick, Michaels. Fucking asshole is what he is!"

"What happened during these meetings?" Arkham asked calmly, scribbling notes on a legal pad.

I glared at the pen in his hands, annoyed by the scratching sound it made as it moved across paper. "Just boring meeting stuff. It was a waste of time, really. Anyway, Michaels wasn't happy about my attitude and during our private meeting in my office, he told me he'd fire me on the spot if I acted that way again." A thoughtful expression crossed my face. "Hmm, I vaguely remember him calling me a whore, too. Maybe not."

More notes. "Then what?"

I thought about it for a moment. "The pen. I had a pen in my hand. It was a silver pen with the bank logo on it." I snarled, "I hated that fucking pen!"

Arkham paused in his notes and looked up at me for a moment. Then he returned to his notes. I narrowed my eyes at him, but said nothing.

"Was it the pen that set you off?" he asked after a few more notes.

I shrugged. "Maybe," I muttered, shifting in the uncomfortable metal chair, my gaze drifting around the small cell. It wasn't my cell. My cell was much smaller than this. The walls were white, but looked rather yellow due to the dim yellow light overhead.

"Tell me what you remember." Arkham said, finally looking up at me. His expression was blank, but his eyes were calculating.

"I started tapping the pen on my desk. I remember thinking that I hated that fucking bank and then…nothing. I don't remember anything else." Quickly, I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees. "What was it about the pen that sparked your interest, Doc?" Surprise flittered across his face and I sneered at him. "I'm pretty observant myself, Doc."

He hesitated, seeming to ponder whether or not he should tell me. "The pen—your pen—was found embedded in Richard Michael's left eye after your breakdown. You went into his office and beat his head in with a glass paperweight before stabbing him with the pen."

That now familiar pressure built up in my chest again, but I managed to restrain my laughter. I couldn't prevent my lips from quirking into a smirk. "Oh really? Then what did I do?"

Those calculating eyes raked over my face, probing mine as he tried to figure something out. He dropped his pen onto the legal pad and closed the folder, tossing it onto the table.

"You found Michaels' handgun in a desk drawer. When a security guard came into the office to see what was happening, you shot him in the head. Another guard immediately followed him. You killed your assistant, Laura, on your way back to your office; shot her twice in the head. You killed one more guard on your way out and the doorman."

I frowned. "Laura? Really?" Arkham nodded. "That's too bad. She was a good kid. I think she wanted to be some kind of actress. And the doorman? Frank? Shit. He was good company." My tone was dull, not really remorseful. Just…dull.

I stared at the floor and Arkham stared at me, waiting. When I finally raised my eyes to his, I lost it. The laughter bubbled up from my chest, crazy and high-pitched. I'd never been one to laugh often. I guess I was making up for lost time.

When my laughter finally subsided, I grinned at Arkham.

"What's so amusing, Karma?" he asked calmly. He hadn't moved an inch during my fit of laughter. He hadn't flinched or anything. He'd remained calm.

I shrugged. "Guess I never thought I had it in me."

He waited one more minute before asking, "Do you feel any remorse for those people?"

I thought about it for a moment. "No. That's sounds bad, but no. I know I should, but I just don't." My grin widened. "I've never shot a gun before. Before Wednesday, anyway. Not once in my entire life. I must be a natural or something."

That's when he slipped up. His eyes hardened into a glare. I just managed to glimpse it before he regained control.

"What the fuck is your problem, Doc?" I snarled, glaring at him.

Before he could answer, the timer on his desk went off, signaling the end of our session.

"Time's up. I'll take you back to your cell now." He stood up, leaving the folder on the table. He turned to the door behind him and knocked twice. A second later, a guard unlocked the door and pulled it open. Two guards came in and unlocked the chains that had held me to the chair. They hauled me up and lead me out into the corridor.

Suddenly, a voice was heard throughout the Asylum. "Dr. Arkham to the lobby, please. Dr. Arkham to the lobby."

We were headed in that direction anyway. We had to pass by the lobby to get into the elevator, which lead up to maximum-security.

Arkham mumbled something under his breath, leading the way. I grinned at his back and cooed, "Somebody's popular."

He ignored me as we climbed some stairs up to the next floor. Arkham lead the way down the dimly lit hallway, but instead of going straight, towards the elevator, he took a sharp right, opening a set of double doors that lead into the lobby.

Maniacal laughter pierced the air when the doors opened. I stopped in front of the doors, peering into the room.

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor when I recognized the figure dressed in a purple suit trying to break free of the guards' grasps. His greasy green hair shined in the brighter lights of the lobby, his face paint smeared across his face, the black around his eyes running down his face, along with the red that covered his lips and scars.

The Joker.

My heart pounded hard in my chest with excitement as the Joker was restrained and dragged forward toward the doors. I glimpsed Arkham standing off to the side, talking to a bespectacled man that looked slightly familiar.

After a moment of thought, I remembered his name. Jim Gordon or Commissioner Gordon, the man who'd "risen from the grave". Everyone had thought him dead, but he'd only been in hiding for a while.

The laughter reached a surprisingly high pitch, shocking me a little. He's almost as loud as me! I thought with a grin. I could feel my own maniacal laughter building up again.

I smiled widely, shifting from foot to foot excitedly. I giggled as the Joker continued to thrash against the guards.

Just as he reached the door, he spotted me. I'd backed away to give him and the guards room to pass, but they all paused when they saw me.

"Well, well, well," Joker grinned at me, his eyes giving me a quick onceover. "What have we here?"

I returned his grin, walking right up to him. "The name's Karma." I said, bowing low. I smirked up at him. "I'm a bitch."

He barked a laugh. "So I hear."

(A/N: For anyone who didn't pick up on this, I'm referring to the well-known phrase "Karma's a bitch.")

As I stood up straight again, he gave me another onceover, this one slower. I blushed. To cover it up, I turned to the guard on Joker's right. "Brian! Long time no see! How's your dick?"

The guard glared at me and did not respond. He glanced over his shoulder at Arkham, who he was apparently waiting for.

As Joker watched with fascination, I stepped closer to Brian. "Oh, come one, Brian. Don't be such a sourpuss." I turned back to the Joker, who raised a quizzical brow. I sighed. "He grabbed me, I kicked him. Maybe a little too hard." I smirked wickedly. "He went down in a second. I thought he was going to cry."

The slap came out of nowhere. I seriously wasn't expecting it. Brian's hand came out fast, backhanding me so hard that I crashed into the wall behind me.

I gave my head a little shake, turning my wide-eyes unto Brian, who was red in the face with rage. I stared at him for a second before I doubled over, howling with insane laughter.

"Crazy bitch!" I heard Brian snarl.

I halted in my laughter to flash him a toothy grin. "One of a kind!" Then I dissolved into laughter again.

When I realized I wasn't the only one laughing, I started to calm down, my attention turning back to the Joker, who was now doubled over. I stared at him in awe before giggling along with his insane and somewhat scary laughter.

I was starting to realize just how my own laughter affected others. And I was also starting to realize that the Joker and I had quite a bit in common. We've both killed people and didn't care about it. We both laughed a lot, though no one laughed with us and we saw humor in things others would never deem as humorous.

Our kind of psychosis is rare, though quite enjoyable.

Finally, Arkham was done with his chat with the commissioner. He appeared behind the Joker, his low drawl breaking through the laughter. "Come on, Joker, we've got a new cell for you."

The Joker snapped his head around, staring at Arkham like he was seeing him for the first time. Then he looked back at me and grinned. "Oh, you are going to be fun!"

I smirked, though a part of me was certain I should be just a tad afraid. I wasn't. Fear wasn't something I often felt these days. I was quite content laughing at everything and nothing.

The Joker was taken to a cell on one of the lower levels first and that confused me a bit. When he was finally brought up to my level—in some sense, brought down—I realized they'd only taken him down there to question him. Or whatever.

As luck would have it, they placed Joker in the cell right across from mine. I was standing in front of my door, which is mostly made of thick glass, when they brought him up. Excitement burned inside me and I was absolutely euphoric when they shoved him roughly into cell 726.

When he turned and caught sight of me behind my glass door, he howled with laughter, causing me to giggle in return.

"Evening, Joker," I said with my best smile. There were small openings in all the doors, at eye level, so you could talk through them.

He flashed his yellow teeth at me. "Evening, Karma." he drawled.

I yawned and turned my back to him. I lowered myself onto my cot, lying on my back. I watched him through the glass door as a guard removed his shackles. This was when I noticed he wasn't wearing his purple suit anymore and his makeup was gone, only a few traces of the white along his hairline.

I frowned. "Such a shame." I muttered.

He'd been keeping his eye on the guard, but at my words, he looked at me questioningly.

I grinned and looked up at the ceiling. "You look much better in the suit." My grin widened as I added, "Not that you don't pull off the white jumpsuit."

He chuckled lowly, staring at me in surprise. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, watched as the guard yelled out orders for the Joker's cell to be closed.

As the door slammed shut, I closed my eyes and smiled to myself. I chuckled quietly when I felt the Joker's eyes watching me, burning into my skin. I kept my eyes closed, drumming my fingers against my stomach, knowing that things were about to get very interesting.

Tell me what you think. This will most likely just be a one-shot, but if I get enough reviews, I might continue with it. I have some ideas and I think I know where this could go, but if I don't get enough reviews, I probably won't bother.

Damn it, this was the rough draft. I uploaded and deleted the wrong ones. Shit. Oh well, sorry if this is full of mistakes. My bad. It's been a long day…

Well, this gives me the opportunity to tell you that if I do end up continuing with this, the chapters won't be so long. Also, I feel I should tell you that I'm very fascinated with the human mind and how it works. I don't know a lot, but when it comes to the brain, ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE. I've seen proof of this. For some reason, I felt I should tell you that. Maybe I'm hinting at what is to come. That is, if I get enough reviews to motivate and urge me to continue!

REVIEW!