Mask: consequences

TITLE: Mask   

4 - consequences

He woke to someone repeatedly slapping him across the face. Back and forth, over and over. It was making him dizzy, the light was making him dizzy, the voice yelling at him to wake up was annoying him.

"Shut up." he groaned. He felt a hand grip his jaw.

"You little fucker, get up or I’m gonna kick you in the balls as hard as I can." That got his attention. He was a man after all, and no man wanted that. But his eyelids seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each. He groaned as he tried to force them open, his head tossed weakly. He receive another stinging slap. That seemed to help and his eyelids fluttered and slowly slid open.

"There he is. We got a present for you, clown." A familiar looking orderly with light brown hair and a short beard said. "You see, that girl you just fucked, remember her?" He remembered all right, a lazy smile spread across his face. If he played it right he could manipulate her into doing anything. Any depraved sex act, or maybe she could really be useful and be a human shield for him when he got a chance to escape. There were many possibilities...

"He remembers.. He’s lucky those dentists bothered to scrape all the nasty shit off his teeth when they gave him x-rays- otherwise she wouldn’t have touched you- even with that face. At least the part that isn’t mutilated." There was laughter and his hazy vision slowly cleared. They were in the showers. He tensed. The showers were a good place to beat the shit out of someone, cleaning up blood was a snap. He curled his hands into fists and it was then that he realized his hands were cuffed behind his back. He tried to sit up and a boot slammed into his mid section. The air rushed out of his lungs and for several long moments all he could do was lay there gasping and choking.

"Well we have all been trying to get between those thighs, and you manage to do it in ten seconds. And then we realized that even with the scars, women seem to like you- at least, now that your cleaned up. And since we’re not allowed to let you skip showers, and all residents get dental visits- especially a criminal like you with no previous records- we decided we’ll just have to try and make you regret touching her."

"Jealousy is an ugly thing, boys." Joker crowed triumphantly.

"You see, we like things to be a certain way around here." he continued as if the Joker had said nothing. "There are rules that even scum bags like you have to follow. And when these rules are broken, we like to deliver punishment in a certain way. ‘ If a man put out the eye of another man, his eye shall be put out.

"So, are you gonna fuck me, then?" There was scattered laughter and a few groans of disgust.

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?"

 

*****

 

They removed his cuffs. Perhaps to give him the illusion that he had a fair shot. Then they were on him like a tidal wave. And it seemed like they were all aiming for his back or his stomach. He tackled one and grabbed his throat with his left hand and began to punch with the right. He only got in a few shots before he was pulled off and kicked in the stomach. The air rushed from his lungs and for a moment all he could do was curl into a ball to protect himself as his lungs sought oxygen. Several boots slammed into his back. He rolled over and caught one as it came near and he sank his teeth into the man’s leg. He heard a howl of pain, and sank his teeth deeper until he tasted blood.

Then it seemed he was the dance floor and the orderlies were performing a scene from ‘Stomp’. They pulled him off the one he’d bitten, and blows rained upon him. He tasted blood and he wasn’t sure if it was the orderlies or his own. He could barley breathe. The pain was coming in fierce bursts, he wasn’t sure if it was from being hit or if it was just from the blows they’d already landed. Several more boots connected with his back and he choked in agony as he felt a bone ... shift.. Or break. The pain made the distinction irrelevant.

After that breathing was nearly impossible. Each rapid burst of air he managed to suck in was torture. Each foot that connected was just making each injury that much worse. If they didn’t kill him accidentally he would be unable to move for days at best. His head was spinning slowly as he failed to draw in the necessary amount of oxygen.

Another foot hit him just under his belly button and he choked. Suddenly the white tile floor in front of him was bright red.

"Alright, enough." someone said. For a long time all he could hear was their breathing and a pitiable moan that never seemed to end. It took him a moment to realize he was the one crying in pain. "I think he might grasp the situation a little better now."

 

*****

 

They dragged him down the hall to an unfamiliar room. His head was swimming from lack of oxygen. His whole torso was covered in bruises, he knew. A rib was cracked at least, he was certain of that too. He couldn’t breathe right, it hurt too much. Each exhale was a wheezing groan or a pained whimper. Each inhale was hitched and broken as he drew in small gasps. Coppery blood coated his teeth and tongue, he could feel it dribbling down his chin as well.

They dropped him on the floor and he noted with surprise that it wasn’t concrete. But it still hurt terribly when he hit it. The door slammed shut behind him. One eye slid open. He was in a padded room. He slowly curled up into a ball, his body protesting with each movement.

It had been years since he’d received a beating of this magnitude. Last time he’d been thrown into his bedroom in a similar state. He knew what to expect. The shortness of breath might make him black out a few times before the pain faded. He wasn’t sure the rib was broken or merely cracked. He couldn’t lift his arm and the thought of touching the area made him cringe.

Perhaps a half hour had passed before the door opened. He heard a gasp, but couldn’t move to see who it was. He felt hands on his shoulder trying to turn him onto his back..

"No." he rasped weakly.

"Why are you in here? You need medical attention! Who did this?" The voice was vaguely familiar. He opened his eyes and saw the middle-aged doctor with the thick, square glasses.

"Go... away." he moaned. The instant the man touched him a new wave of torment flooded him. He hated it, he hated to be the one suffering. He wanted other people to hurt. Pain wasn’t something he shied from, unless it was completely incapacitating. And at the moment he couldn’t force himself to move if his life depended on it. He felt the doctor’s hand gently touch him and he gasped at the immediate, intense agony.

"Nurse, get a stretcher." he heard someone mumble a ‘yes, sir.’ and depart.

"I’m.. Fine." he ground out, the man snorted in amusement.

"No, you are not." he felt the doctor lift the back of his shirt, he attempted to pull away, but as soon as his muscles tensed to carry out the act, the pain intensified. "Jesus." he muttered. "Who did this?"

"My.. Name is.. Joker." he murmured and cringed as he heard the stretcher squeaking down the hall. The doctor chuckled quietly for a moment. "Very amusing, but I need to know who to fire."

"I’ll.. Take care of them.. Later." he ground out, growing angry.

"No." the doctor all but shouted. "You must not think like that. It is wrong-"

"Shut up!" Joker screeched, then moaned softly as even raising his voice caused pain.

"We’ll have to put you in a straight jacket if we even think your going to attempt some sort of retaliation. Is that what you want?" Joker’s response was a cry of pain as he was picked up and dropped onto the stretcher. "Gently!" the doctor barked. "He’s damaged enough- is this your handiwork?"

"No, sir." someone responded with an amused undercurrent to his voice. His back spasmed in agony and his eyes snapped shut. He felt a needle enter his flesh, and for once, he didn’t protest. The pain was suddenly replaced by numbness and he sighed in relief as he felt the world drift away.

*****

 

He awoke in the asylum’s infirmary, strapped to a bed. His whole body was sore and he could feel thick bandages wrapped around his torso. It made breathing difficult for a different reason, but the pain was a lot less intense then it had been.

He felt a slow burning anger building up within him. He had to heal. Then he had to escape. If the orderlies were fired, he would have to find someone to hack into their database, because he had no clue where to look. The place was too big to be searching for an office full of files while trying to escape. He would find out where each one of them lived later and pay them a nice visit.

But first, he was going to have to behave, as humiliating as it was. Perhaps they would keep him in his room until he was better. Perhaps he should refuse to leave it until he was ready. That way he could avoid temptation altogether. He knew he would react like a rabid dog the moment anyone came near him. A good ass-kicking usually did that to him. After a month or so he would calm down and return to his normal state.

It wasn’t fear that motivated him, but pure fury. Those who hurt him must be repaid ten-fold. It was his most strictly obeyed rule. Until he got his revenge he was possessed with hatred, unable to be his usual capricious self.

He closed his eyes, wearily. He was so tired, but he’d just woken up. He had an assortment of tubes sticking out of his body at various places and he wondered how long he’d been asleep. He heard someone coming closer and was shocked that he was too exhausted to even look annoyed. She almost walked right past him, but suddenly did a double-take and gasped.

"Your awake!" she exclaimed. He rolled his eyes and his mouth twisted into a frown. "How do you feel?" she asked and he studied her a moment. Medium height, with dark hair and tan skin, small boobs, big ass, average- but cute face.. But most important- fear, trepidation in her eyes. He shrugged, suddenly relieved that he could do that at least without pain.

"I’m thirsty." he croaked, his throat aching. She nodded and disappeared, returning moments later with a glass of water with a straw. She stopped at his bedside and pushed a button, lifting the back of the mattress so he was sitting upright. The sudden shift in weight made him cringe in pain. The nurse placed a tube with a button on the end within his reach.

"For pain," she said, he pressed the button several times in a row. "It’s set to a timer. You can only use it once every four hours." she held the cup of water and the straw to lips that were already opening to protest. He greedily sucked down the contents of the small cup, sighing in relief. He tensed for a moment, expecting pain, then realized the drugs...

 

*****

The nurse smiled as she watched the pain and anger melt from his face. His eyelids began to droop and he yawned. "Get some rest.." she said, but he was already almost out. She put the bed flat and stared at him a moment longer. "He’s... so young." she commented in amazement. She had been afraid to check on him until she’d found out that several orderlies had taken him into the showers and beat him within an inch of his life. He was utterly helpless at the moment, it was the only reason she’d agreed.

Now she stared at him, fascinated. He was much younger than she’d assumed, given the horrible things he’d done. They had spoken of maturity, of years of spiraling madness that had culminated in horribly tragic events. She had seen him with his makeup on, and she had been terrified when she’d found out he was coming to Arkham. He was a monster, a demon, something vile and twisted and completely corrupt.

It was difficult to believe he was so evil at the moment. The terrible scars marred an otherwise gorgeous face. It was a shame, really. In her mind it was obvious that he was a product of horrible abuse. She was no psychiatrist, but she had seen the tragic results many times in the ten years she’d worked with the mentally ill. Those scars went deep and never really went away. But it had to be easier to deal with when you didn’t have to stare at them every time you looked in a mirror.

 

*****

 

By the next day they set his drug supply to every six hours. He had begun to shout, but cringed moments later. His features twisted into a pout when the pain slowly abated, but he did not complain after that. He said very little, he spent most of his time drifting in and out of a drug haze and consciousness.

Days went by in this manner. At the end of the week his ‘stash’ as he’d called it, was gone. He was annoyed, but not altogether displeased. He wanted to heal after all. He needed to get away from this place and the pain it had caused him. The better he felt, the more anxious he grew. As the ache faded from his body he began to try to slip his restraints. He’d lost weight, he’d been lying in bed forever it seemed. The thought of trying to rise and failing made his gut clench.

There was only one way to get out of his restraints. His face immediately soured at the idea, but he would never escape if he was strapped in bed every day. He was going to have to behave... And he was going to have to be convincing. He didn’t have to cower like a whipped dog, but he had to control his temper at all times- enough to convince them that he didn’t have to be chained up all day.

It would take enormous will power and some pretty amazing acting skills. But if he succeeded..

"Hehehe.." he giggled quietly.

 

*****

 

When he heard someone approaching he sat up, face eager. It was the doctor who had found him in the padded room.

"You look much better." he said, smiling. And it was true, his eyes were lit up, no longer clouded with pain and drugs. But he’d lost weight, and his skin was still discolored with fading bruises.

"I want to get up." he said quickly, eager to blow off idle chit-chat. The doctor seemed surprised.

"Maybe in a few days-" he went silent at the look of disappointment on the Joker’s face.

"Please?" he said softly, his eyes dropping in embarrassment.

"Uh.. I guess it would be alright for a little bit." The bespeckled man mumbled, shocked. "I’ll call an orderly.." he trailed off again as a wince passed over the Joker’s face.

"I don’t really think I can run." he muttered, his expression sullen. The doctor laughed quietly.

"I’m sure you can’t, this is for your safety, not mine. Your still healing, and this is too soon in my opinion. I’m willing to bet you get dizzy within five minutes, and I can’t carry you back here if you faint." he said, his expression amused. The younger man seethed inwardly, yet his expression was slightly baffled and almost... wounded. "I know you might have... reservations about the orderlies..." he paused as color flushed the Joker’s pale skin. "ButI can assure you, those men have been fired and are currently awaiting their court dates at Gotham County-" he broke off when the Joker’s eyes bulged and his breathing rapidly accelerated.

The fools were in prison- how in the hell was he going to get to them in there? And worse yet- they would tell other inmates what they did to him...

He felt a hand on the back of his neck, forcing his head between his knees and he suddenly realized he was hyperventilating. He couldn’t think, the room was buzzing around him and the edges of his vision were going gray. He felt someone petting his curly locks again and again.

"Calm down, just calm down.." someone kept saying. A part of him was detached, as if observing from outside. He was slightly shocked at his own reaction, maybe he really was losing his mind.

Finally his breathing began to slow until it was coming in short, jagged bursts. The dizziness was fading, his sight was clearing. He realized more than one set of hands was on him and he wanted to recoil from their touch, but he was as limp as a de-boned fish. He had exhausted himself, he couldn’t see himself standing for a moment much less walking anywhere.

When his breathing finally calmed the hands pushed him back until he was lying flat again. His eyelids fluttered shut instantly and soon he was asleep.

 

*****

 

Dr. Arkham, the nurse, and the orderly all exchanged shocked glances.

"What would cause him to have a panic attack?" Nurse Swanson asked, her voice emphasizing the shock they all felt.

"He wanted revenge... That’s all I can think of, but to become that upset over it... Lower his dosage, we need to speak to him, and he’s been in and out of consciousness for too long."

"But, doctor-" Jerry Hain, the orderly, began.

"We’ll keep him in restraints, even the straight jacket if necessary." Arkham continued as he left the room.

 

*****

 

He awoke in his cell. But for once there was a difference. He was lying on his side. He hadn’t been able to lie on his side since he’d come to Arkham. He was in a different bed, he was not restrained in any way. His hands rose to hover in front of him as he stared in amazement, then rose of their own accord as he stretched. He sighed in satisfaction when his back cracked and he felt no pain. He sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He wobbled unsteadily for a moment when he stood, and a brief bout of dizziness hit him, but he ignored it.

He began to pace his cell, it was a habit he had formed years ago when boredom struck. After a half hour he stopped and slid under his bed, there were metal cross bars underneath that could be used as weapons if he could unscrew them. He scrambled to his feet and trotted to the door to peek out his small window. The hall seemed empty and he went back to his bed and lay underneath, trying to get a grip on a bolt and twist it free. Every one was stuck in place rather well and after an hour of struggling he’d come no closer to dislodging any of them. His fingertips ached from the strain. He scowled furiously as he stood, but another idea struck him as he eyed the metal frame.

He had no time to act on it though as he heard a key slide into the metal lock. The door opened and two orderlies stood outside. One carrying a straight-jacket, the other, a taser. He forced a smile and held his empty hands up, it was time to start behaving.

 

 

TBC

 

A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the reviews, especially you, 4ofcups!

If he break another man's bone, his bone shall be broken.’ You get the idea?"

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable): Joker/OC (non-con)

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

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: Ok so the first few days have begun to add up to a bit more so: Joker’s first stay 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.