The Killing Joke

Chapter 1: A Doctor and A Joker Walk Into an Insane Asylum...

Arkham Asylum, a wretched hive of madness, home to the people that are too crazy for prison, too violent for the streets and too unpredictable to be under the watchful eye of the police. So they get put here. A building that is the symbol of insanity. For three months now the asylum has been evaluating a very remarkable patient. He has no name, no background, no fingerprints. If he wasn't sitting there, if he didn't have any fame or criminal record behind him from the persona he'd taken. To the world he just wouldn't exist. Sitting in a straight jacket, in a glass walled cell. Greasy green hair. Usually found with clown make-up on his face though the Asylum won't allow him to have it. Though even with a plain face he strikes fear into the staff, due to the scars so precisely cut on his face it makes a permanent smile. Patient J, or The Joker as he'd been come to known by the world, more specifically by Gotham City.

Today he was quite excited, a new doctor was coming to see him. He'd a list of doctors who'd tried to treat him, some of them dead. Some of them injured. One went insane. He thought this one would probably end up the same way, depending on his impression of the person. He turned to the guards as they entered his cell and smiled, standing up for them as they guided him to the interview room.
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"So, Doctor Quinzel. Welcome to Arkham." A man in a black suit, a smirk on his face, a warm, welcoming look. Though a bit confident, with a badge stating his name. Jerimiah Arkham. "We try to make ourselves an honourable institute, and offer ALL of our patients a chance of rehabilitation...no matter how hard they fight it." He sighed, leading her down a long loop of dull grey corridors. "I must warn you about the patient you've decided to make your first study. He is...very unpredictable. He's the ONLY patient I'd say that couldn't be rehabilitated."
"I've heard all the stories about him Doctor Arkham. I've learned that with patience and the right treatment and therapy. Even he can become a working member of today's society." Doctor Quinzel replied quite quirkiness. She stood, 5'9 in her long white doctors outfit. Blonde hair tied up neatly in a bun and thin framed glasses over her bright blue eyes. She looked to be in her twenties, still young. To many still a girl in a grown up world and she had decided to take on a task people thought to be impossible. Doctor Arkham sighed, leading her to the interview room.
"Don't say I didn't warn you..." He told her, opening the door and letting her in. Quickly closing the door behind her.
The doctor saw her patient already sitting behind the desk. Freed from his straight jacket. Licking his lips as he looked at her, smiling and motioning to the chair before her.
"Well?" He asked as he pointed to the chair. "You're the doctor aren't you supposed to be starting this thing?"
Quinzel nodded and went over to the chair, laying down a tape recorder on the table, along with The Joker's file. She sorted herself out before hitting the record button.
"Doctor Harlene Quinzel, sitting with Patient J for the...fifth attempt of Therapy from Arkham Asylum. First time with patient, so I'll be starting with the basics."
"Harlene Quinzel?" Joker asked with a raised eyebrow
"Yes, that's my name." Harlene responded quite formally " And as we're on the topic of name's, I'd like to ask yours."
"I don't have a name." Joker responded simply "People lkike to give me names. This very Asylum calls me Patient J. This city calls me The Joker. I've never given myself a name. Name's just kind of...come with what I do." He cracked his neck as he eased into his chair, tapping the table with his fingers
"And what is it you do?" Harlene asked
"Joker let out a small chuckle "Read the papers much? Watch the news? Am I really not that memorable without the makeup?" He asked gritting his teeth
"I'd like you to tell me yourself what it is you do." Harlene retorte,d keeping her formal attitude
"Open minded. I like that." Joker stopped and thought a moment for the best way describe, what he did "I suppose in many ways you could say I'm like a normal criminal. I rob, I kill, I...blow things up. Though, the thing that separates me...from them. Is, I don't have a motive..."
"What do you mean by that?" Harlene lost her tone slightly, as she raised her eyebrow at Joker.
"Police work 101 states that every crime has a motive and therefore every criminal has a motive. Revenge, money, sex, religion. Every possible little thing they could think of to make a motive. Though, they didn't take people like me into account. I don't want revenge on anybody. I don't need money. The money I robbed I burned or threw away, and as for sex. Do you really think a girl is going to go for a guy with these?" He pointed to the scars on his face "If I tried to force myself on somebody, I'm sure with my looks. They'd manage to get away." He laughed quite manically, rocking in his chair, licking his lips once more.
" You're ashamed of the way you look?" Harlene leant forward with interest as she made notes on his behaviour.
"Not really. I was first, when I got them. As any person would be...but after a while. I started seeing the funny side to things...I started realising these scars, were a gift. Nobody can smile as much as I can." He raised his eyebrows as if to make a point before relaxing back in his chair.
" So...how did you get them?" Harlene dared to ask, a large sick grin forming on The Joker's face.
" How did I get these scars?" He asked himself chuckling "Now THAT'S a story. Well, I was young. I was desperate for money, I had a girlfriend, pregnant. Ready for marriage...and between you and me she thought I was great in the sack." Joker smirked once more as he leant towards Harlene "The one thing I wanted to do, was make people laugh. I loved the sound of laughter,r made me feel...like no matter how bad things got, laughter always showed that things could get better." His stare seemed to become distant as he reminisced false memories. Memories he liked to make up and seem real. Though Harlene didn't know this. "So I find a comedy club and I start working there...and people thought I was TERRIBLE" He snarled out the last word, anger forming on his face. Though the smile from his scars remained. " I got no money, no job. Nobody found me funny except my girlfriend...and I became desperate, I went to the mob. Begging for help, for money. Of course, that got me in trouble when I couldn't pay them back. So they decide to make me pay." He formed his hands into fists, he was making this look very realistic. Somewhere in his twisted mind, he thought it was real too. " One night, I come back from the comedy club...I hear screaming. My house is burning, my girlfriend is dying inside it...and the mob, the mob is LAUGHING as she burns. That's where I saw the irony in my mind, in my plans about life. That's when something just...broke. I began crying, I didn't know why. I just couldn't contain it after everything I went through. The mob, seeing me crying. Comes up to me, one of has a knife. He sticks it in my mouth...and he says...You really should smile more often." Joker was silent for a moment then began laughing uncontrollably, resting his head on the table.
"Though enough about me and my troubles...what about you Harlene Quinzel" He punctuated her name, trying to get used to it. He'd been looking at her with interest the whole time.
"D-don't you want to talk more about the incident?" Harlene asked surprised.
"Nah, the story changes every time. Sometimes it's my dad. Sometimes it's me. Sometimes it's a french girl who just couldn't let go. That's the thing about my past. It's multichoice."
Harlene was silent. She didn't know how to respond to that. "I'm...I'm ending this session now."
"Oh but we just met, I was hoping to get my make up for being such a good boy!" Joker chuckled
Harlene didn't respond, ending the recording and leaving the room as Joker watched her leave.
"Goodbye..." He whispered waving as the guards entered. "My little Harley Quinn."