Mask: 2

TITLE: Mask 

 

A/N: 4ofCups this is for u!

 

 

 

M to the A to the S to the K,
Put the mask up on the face just to make the next day.
Brothers be gaming, Ladies be claiming.
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity.
My posse Uptown wear the mask.
My crew in the Queens wear the mask.
Stick up kids with the Tommy Hil wear the mask.
Yeah everybody wear the mask but how long will it last?
 

 

 

 

 

He was shoveling food into his mouth so fast he’d already choked several times. Hunger had brushed off what manners he did bother to observe. He had abandoned the plastic cutlery and used his hands, actually biting a few fingers when his teeth snapped quicker than the digits could withdraw. He hummed quietly as he ate. Finally released from at least one pain, his mood had improved greatly. No sooner had he finished before the door opened again and two orderlies entered. His first inclination was to spring to his feet and charge, biting and clawing. But he was still held down by the ankle-cuffs and the thick leather strap across his waist. So instead he chugged his milk, one eye one them as they entered.

"Ah!" he said, smacking his lips in satisfaction. As the taller orderly went to grab his tray he swatted it off his lap and onto the floor. The men didn’t react other than slight surprise and continued as they’d been, reaching to undo his restraints.

"The doctors want to speak to you." the short one said, grabbing one of his wrists firmly and snapping a hand cuff around it.

"Yes, ok." he snapped back automatically. The men eyed each other in confusion at his severe composure. His face seemed set in stone. They secured ankle cuffs and a chain around his waist and cuffed his other hand. They each grabbed an elbow and led him down the hall.

He scowled in anger. He did not want to be poked and prodded by doctors. He did not want to answer their questions. They would want to know his real name, what his family had been like- every stupid detail of his worthless and unmemorable past. Wouldn’t they be pissed when they realized he didn’t know any more than they did? He hoped so.

He couldn’t help but try to look at the other inmates through their tiny windows, but only caught glimpses. The cries he heard were muted. He grit his teeth in annoyance as they took him to the elevator. On the next floor down they reached their destination. A rather large room with a long fold up table with several chairs on one side of it. Another chair sat across the room. The guards led him to it and pushed him down into the seat. They quickly secured his waist chain with another chain that was bolted to the floor. They then retreated to stand on either side of the door.

After only a few minutes the doctors began to enter in groups. Soon there were eight in all seated behind the long table.

"We estimate your date of birth to be around 1977 and 1981, is this correct?" The man was in his late thirties at the least, he wore thick, square glasses, and his ash blonde hair was parted to the side. Each doctor, both male and female, peered at him with keen fascination. His tongue slowly slid across his upper lip and one eyebrow rose.

"Maybe."

"We need a yes or no answer, please." they seemed at once amused as a group. So they already anticipated his lack of cooperation.

"Oh, yeah, well I want my makeup.." he snarled, shaking his chains.

"We can’t do that." One of the elder women said, looking repulsed as she studied him carefully. His eyes locked with hers immediately and he noted with pleasure that her pallor lightened considerably as he smiled at her and winked salaciously.

"Well then, why should I tell you anything?" One of the youngest men at the table snorted in amusement.

"We have drugs that will have you spilling your guts in minutes." The Joker chuckled quietly.

"Do it then." The older woman who had glared at him before waved dismissively at the younger doctor.

"There are few circumstances in which the use of those drugs is sanctioned by law. This is not one of them."

"We can however put you in solitary confinement until you feel more cooperative." The man with the ash blonde hair said, his expression carefully neutral. "But before we do that, let’s try again, shall we?" he did not wait for the scarred patient to respond. "How about you tell us your real name?"

"The Joker is my real name." The man’s eyebrow rose in incredulity, similar expressions of annoyance and unease graced the other doctor’s faces as well.

"All right let’s try this then, what is the name on your birth certificate?" He shrugged, his tongue darting out of his mouth to swipe his lips.

"I can’t remember. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s dead, pfft, gone, bye-bye."

"I think it would be best to administer a polygraph-" A middle-aged balding doctor said. "He’s clearly being evasive." Several of the psychiatrists began to babble at once and he felt the first stirring of displeasure in his gut. He wanted out of the room. He detested them all. He knew what was going on inside their feeble little minds. They wanted all his secrets laid out before them to dissect. They didn’t want to help him, and he certainly didn’t want their help. "Help" consisted of drugging him until he was a drooling idiot with no more personality and will than a coma victim. They wanted to brain wash him into thinking there was something wrong with him, but the reality was that he was perfect as he was. He wanted out, back to his cell and solitary confinement if that was what they really thought necessary. He didn’t care. He just wanted away from the fools. Immediately.

"I want- I want to go now." he said just loud enough for the guards to hear. They began to creep closer which only served to make him more edgy. He began to tug his chains violently, the sound cut through the conversation and the doctors all turned as one to stare at him. "Let me go back now." he snarled, surging to his feet, the chair falling backwards behind him. "NOW! I want to go, NOW!" he roared and as soon as he felt the guards put their hands on him he went wild. He couldn’t lash out at them, but he could scream and bite and head butt. As they tackled him he began to writhe madly, screaming at the top of his lungs.

A sea of bodies descended upon him and in moments he was being crushed under their weight. It was becoming almost routine. He felt the sting of a needle and he gasped in panic.

"No! No! No more!" but it was too late. His body went limp underneath the pile of guards and orderlies.

 

He awoke in his room. He was again shackled to the bed. The room was spinning slowly. His stomach was rolling uneasily, but it was nothing compared to last time. He tugged each restraint, praying they were loose. They weren’t.

 

He stayed up until dawn. When the sun had set he had though of many things to amuse himself and had laughed until he choked. Then he began to sing in his boredom what songs he did know. Many were dirty and humourous to him. He began to grow restless and tried to escape his restraints but it seemed the more he pulled the tighter they got. Eventually his hands felt like balloons that were about to pop and he gave up with a groan. He grew tired then, but just when it seemed he would drift off to sleep his eyes snapped open. It continued for what seemed like hours and soon he was slamming his head back into the mattress in the vain hope he would knock himself out. After another slow stretch of time he noticed he could see just a bit more clearly. The sky outside was a faint bluish gray. Finally weariness settled over him and he was nearly asleep when he heard keys sliding into the lock in his door. He moaned pitifully.

"God DAMN it!" he bellowed as soon as the door opened. "I just fell asleep! All night I can’t sleep and you come in now!"

"You slept for two days." the tall one informed him, his voice flat. His face clouded in confusion briefly but he did not continue his tirade. Instead he contented himself with muttering angrily about the orderlies and their IQ’s as they led him to another room one flight up.

Inside was a nicely furnished office with the big, fancy wooden desk and the leather couch that probably cost something ridiculous. The orderlies shoved him onto the couch and chained him to the floor. He couldn’t stand without ending up in a rather shameful position. The ash-haired doctor with the thick, square glasses entered and sat behind the desk as the Joker scanned the room with his eyes for anything useful as a weapon.

"Mr.. Uh.. Joker."

"Joker is fine, if you please." he said with a disconcerting smirk. The doctor began to write. Joker sat up straight, craning his neck to try and see, but he was too far away.

"Joker, my name is Dr. Jeremiah Arkham-" he was interrupted by a sharp gasp from the younger man.

"Really? Is it true your aunt and cousin were raped and murdered here? And that your uncle went crazy and was committed here?" His expression was at once alight with genuine interest. The older man’s eyebrow jerked upward in annoyance.

"Yes, unfortunately-" he was again cut off by the Joker.

"Wow, your pretty lucky." he said enunciating the last two words precisely.

"How is that?" Arkham asked, seemingly unperturbed by the suggestion.

"If I had aunts and cousins I would probably want them to be raped and mutilated too." He smothered a smile as he saw the man writing furiously.

"Why is that?" he seemed a tad eager, the Joker licked his upper lip.

"You would always have an interesting story to tell. And it makes you sort of famous. I mean, I knew who you’re related to didn’t I, and we’ve only just met." He noted with pleasure that the man was a bit crestfallen by his answer. The good doctor wanted the real dirt. Well, even if he could remember more than bits and pieces (and they were terribly fucked up bits and pieces) they could torture him and he wouldn’t tell. He would never tell anyone, ever.

"This is true, but tell me, you are aware that we cannot help you unless you tell us what is wrong, what has happened-"

"There isn’t anything wrong with me." he said with a smile. Arkham wrote on his yellow note pad, the younger man wanted to snatch the pen out of his hand and bury it in his eyeball. And rip up the yellow note pad, crumple up the pages, and jam them down the man’s throat until he choked. His tongue slid out of his mouth an prodded a scar. He saw the doctors eyes lock on them. "Are you looking at my scars?" he kept his expression bland as Arkham’s eyes swiftly rose to meet his and the end of his pen quivered in anticipation. "Do you want to know how I got them?"

"If your willing to-"

"My father was a weak-willed man, and he seemed to enjoy being bossed around I guess. Because he was always bringing these mean, crazed women home. When I was twelve or thirteen he uh, married one of these skanks. And well, he didn’t know it, but she had a bit of a drug problem. I woke one night when my father was out of town, he was always out of town on business, and I found her blowing lines of coke with a bunch of men- in my kitchen. She threatened me and told me to go to bed, but I couldn’t. I wanted to know what they were doing. I heard strange noises much later and when I went to see what it was, hm, she had, ah, heheh." he stopped for a moment, his shoulders quivering with suppressed laughter. "She had a cock in every orifice, hehe. I was sort of stunned, I’d not even seen a woman naked yet, and it seemed kind silly to me. Actually-" he broke off laughing for a moment. "I found it so funny I almost pissed myself I was laughing so hard. And these idiots all came at me, naked, coked-up. ‘He isn’t laughing now is he?’ the one guy said. ‘You think this is funny? This is a joke to you?’ that slut said- or something like it. The biggest guy had an idea and decided to teach me a lesson. He decided I needed to learn. My. Place. I was going to be the one they laughed at, so he started to cut my face. And the little cuts he made weren’t enough so they found other knives, different utensils, and they tore out chunks of flesh. You know-" he paused for a moment, sitting back. "Actors can’t scream like that." he said, watching the pen flutter rapidly. "You watch a movie and you know their faking it. When it really hurts, and you really scream, the difference is incredible." he all but moaned the last word. It was possible he was reminiscing about someone he had hurt, someone’s screams he had listened to. The silence in the room was deafening. He realized the pen had stopped scratching, his eyes rose to meet Arkham’s. The man looked like he was trying very hard to remain composed and calm, but he could just see the excitement in his eyes. Got ya, sucker! Joker thought, stifling a giggle.

"My father, or course, was horrified. But he was afraid of taking the blame and never took me to get stitches. He didn’t break down until they got infected and I had a fever. I started hallucinating. I don’t remember much else. I never saw him after that. I was put in a foster home." he stared at the ground, trying his hardest not to grin like an idiot. He heard the pen scratching softly.

"How did your foster family treat you?"

"I ran away the first night I was there."

"Where did you go?"

"I hitched a ride with a truck driver. When we got to a rest stop, he pulled his dick out and I ran away. I spent the night in a barn." he shrugged. "I’m bored, this is boring." he said.

"That’s fine. We can stop now. Since you’ve been cooperative you can listen to the radio or watch tv for an hour tonight after dinner." He was disgusted when he realized the idea actually appealed to him. This place was going to drive him nuts. But the thought of all the lies he had just spun to Arkham made his smile return, and by time he was back in his room he was laughing hysterically.

 

 

TBC..

 

I still have more in mind, but I just wanted to post this NOW! Lol

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable):

NOTES: NOLAN-VERSE I simply adore Heath Ledger’s Joker. So should you... :D

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: The Joker’s first few days at Arkham

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, I make no money from writing this, so don’t be a douche and sue me or something. The lyrics belong to Fugees