Mask: greasepaint and monkey brains

TITLE: MaskAnd as for the toys, well, me and my brother own them- still. Hehe.and the lyrics are from Marilyn Manson’s ‘Man that you fear’I have it all and I have no choice but to I'll make everyone pay and you will see you can kill yourself now because you're dead in my mind the boy that you loved is the monster you fear  

 

He was bored already. Questions, questions, questions. What were his parents like? Oh, that isn’t what you told us earlier.. Bla bla bla. He wanted to puke. He wanted to snap his chains and slice them all to pieces. His hands clenched as he thought about strangling them.

Them. The doctors. And not just any doctors, the bigwigs, the rich, educated, impeccable, prying, nosy, arrogant, insufferable bastards. The lot of them. He was trussed up before them, shackled and chained to the floor. Two orderlies stood on either side of him as he again sat in a chair before the panel. They were shooting questions at him, one after another- hoping, praying he would let something slip. All the while they were all scribbling madly on papers before them.

"Were you ever abused as a child?" His tongue shot out of his mouth and dragged across his upper lip.

"Mm, yes, my mother wanted a little girl so she bought me ‘Barbie’ and ‘my little pony’ and ‘care bears’ instead of ‘transformers’ and ‘G.I. Joe’s’ when I was a kid. Look what happened!" he cried, his hands thrown in the air in mock horror. Laughter burst from him for a moment.

"What was your father like?"

"Hitler."

"Did you ever experience bed wetting problems as a child?" he couldn’t contain a snicker at that one.

"I don’t think of it as a problem- some chicks like it." he guffawed, slapping his knee.

"Are you capable of answering a question truthfully?"

"Yes. No. I don’t know! Um. Ah. Yes?" he jingled his chains.

"Do you ever feel anxiety or nervousness?" he shrugged.

"No, never. Well, maybe sometimes, but don’t tell anyone or I’ll chop your tits off." The woman who’d questioned him didn’t appear fazed by the comment. It irritated him, he needed to put the fear of Joker into all of them.

"Does any one in your family have a history of mental illness?"

"Yup."

"Were they a direct relation?"

"Perrr-haps."

"Do you ever have trouble sleeping?" he snorted in disgust.

"Not since I got here."

"So you did before." it wasn’t a question.

"I’m too busy sometimes, people to blow up, you know." he waved a hand dismissively.

"Do you ever feel bad for all the people you hurt?" his sneer widened to a full-blown grin.

"Never."

"Have you ever become violent as a result of boredom?"

"Sure." he seemed pleased at that, if his smile was any indication.

"Have you ever sustained any severe injuries as a result of carelessness?"

"Maybe, a bit."

"Your facial scarring-"

"You want to know how I got my scars?" he perked up a bit.

"Of course- if your willing-"

"My mom got remarried to this man who hadn’t a decent bone in his body. I saw him shoot a man in our kitchen when I was maybe seven years old. He used to beat up my mom a lot when he got drunk. I didn’t like it, so one night I tried to stop him. Now- he was a pretty big guy, built like a brick shit house, you know? He picked me up and tossed me at the wall like a football. I remember waking up to him hovering over me with a knife. I opened my mouth to scream and he popped the knife right into my open mouth and sliced this side." he raised his cuffed hands to trace the low, curved slice on the right side of his face. "On this side-" he indicated the puckered scars on the left. "He stabbed that side first and began to saw it a bit." a few faces looked green, with the exception of Dr. Arkham who was watching him intently. He smiled brightly at him, offering a wink.

"That isn’t what you told me the other day, I believe you claimed it was your stepmother." Dr. Arkham said, the Joker just shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Whatever- it’s confused- doesn’t matter anyway.." The last part was mumbled.

"What was that-?" Dr. Arkham pressed.

"It- doesn’t- matter." he said, louder.

"And why is that?"

"I’m not that person anymore. At all."

"Physically-" Joker snorted.

"In every aspect."

"Have you ever been in a relationship for a year or more?" he shrugged again.

"Maybe." he appeared annoyed by the question.

"Have you engaged in sexual intercourse with ten or more different partners in twelve months or less?"

"Heh, are you calling me a whore or something?" his tongue darted out to prod a scar.

"Of course not, we’re asking a simple question."

"Well I’m sick of answering. I’m bored."

"Just a few more-"

"And what do I get out of it, huh?" he snarled, the guttural roar freezing the assembly of doctors in their places for a moment as a chill of terror raced up their spines. "Give me my makeup back!"

"Patients are not allowed-"

"Fuck you then! And fuck your god damn questions!" he roared, his temper exploding. He bolted to his feet and began to struggle with his chains. The orderlies immediately shoved him back into his seat. He kicked as much as he was able and tried repeatedly to hit them until they both grabbed a wrist and held him. He growled and spat and cursed until two more orderlies came in bearing a straight jacket.

The moment he was uncuffed he used all his strength to try and pull free, but the men maintained their grip. He howled in fury as they put the straight jacket on. He wriggled and bucked wildly but all four of them were holding him and Dr. Arkham began to buckle him in.

"I hate you! I fuckin hate you, mother fuckers!" he screamed.

"Take him to the violent ward. I’ve heard enough."

"Fuck You!!" he shrieked as they uncuffed him. He began to kick until the men caught his legs fast. They carried him out as he continued to wail.

 

*****

 

They tossed him in a padded cell. For hours he struggled with the straight jacket. Pausing only when his gasps for air grew painful. At least they were providing him a workout. And he was positive he would escape the jacket, it wasn’t impossible. He just... didn’t know how. He was jubilant when he got his left wrist over his elbow, but he couldn’t move much more so he began to tug with the right sleeve as hard as he could. After several minutes of struggling he gave up and lie still, panting in exhaustion. He was covered in sweat. He wriggled uncomfortably when the strap between his legs felt like it was jammed up his ass. When his breathing slowed he began to struggle again.

Soon he realized he couldn’t get the damn thing off. He was tired and sweaty and out of breath.

"I hate this place." he said aloud, his voice sounding weak and strange in his ears. "When I get out of here the bat and I are going to have quite a bit to discuss."

He didn’t give up for what seemed like hours. He hadn’t loosened the damn thing a bit. His frustration was quickly boiling over to rage. He couldn’t remember feeling quite so helpless. A horrible feeling of anguish filled him and he felt his throat constrict and his eyes begin to fill with moisture.

"No," he moaned softly. Pathetic tears were the last thing he needed. The doctors were bent on humiliating him into compliance it seemed. Anger filled him and his tears dried before they fell. He slammed the back of his head into the floor. No pain, no release from the agonizing feelings. He was alone with nothing to distract him. It was hell. He thought of the bat, thought of wehat he would do to him when they finally met again. No complicated schemes would be involved. He was going to escape and go on a rampage until the bat came to stop him. And when he did, Joker was going to do everything in his power to carve him a matching smile.

The thought made him smile, then a giggle escaped his lips which grew until he was laughing hysterically, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"We’ll be twins!" he cried amidst his laughter. "BFF’s" his laughter grew to a roar. Finally his laughter began to die down and he realized his stomach was aching. And he realized he was exhausted, he finally closed his eyes and slept.

 

*****

 

He was awoken by guards standing above him. Before he was fully coherent they hauled him to his feet, supporting him as he yawned and blinked wearily.

"Wha-?" He mumbled.

"Dr. Arkham wants to speak to you."

"Hooray for me." he muttered.

Soon he was seated in a familiar office, his stomach roared loudly and for a moment the good Doctor looked up from the papers piled on his desk and smiled. Joker growled, showing his teeth.

"Are you feeling a little better this morning?" Joker snarled and struggled in vain with his straight jacket. "If you can behave yourself I can have it removed. It seemed a better option after your violent reaction to the Seroquel."

"So, what’s up, doc?" he spat, his expression annoyed.

"It is the finding of the panel that you suffer from antisocial personality and malignant narcissistic behavioral disorders-"

"Are you saying I’m a psycho?"

"The term is ‘antisocial personality disorder’-"

"So..."

"Insane and psychopath are no longer much used clinical terms-"

"But your saying I’m messed up-" he tapped a temple.

"I would never say something like that-"

"So, what would you say?"

"I’d say your stay here will be indefinite, the board will go before a judge tomorrow. You are incompetent to stand trial-" a short bark of laughter erupted from the Joker. Dr. Arkham sighed. "You need the treatment we will provide, and any medication we give you will also be necessary-"

"Bullshit!" he snarled.

"You posses many of the traits, and, I’m sorry to tell you this-"

"Your lying! There’s nothing wrong with me-" Dr. Arkham said nothing for a moment, only studied the younger man’s face as denial shone out in his eyes. It seemed a few examples were necessary, not that he thought it would make a difference.

"You show a complete lack of remorse or guilt for any of your actions that led to your incarceration. You murdered people! And you don’t care at all. You don’t think there’s any reason not to murder innocent-"

"I did them a favor-"Joker cut in, his face darkening with anger.

"Your grandiose sense of self-worth, you’re cunning and extremely manipulative. Let’s see, you’ve shown criminal versatility, aggressive and violent tendencies with a sever lack of empathy- In my opinion you have no conscience whatsoever. You show a reckless disregard for the safety of yourself and others. You clearly display impulse control problems and an inability to tolerate boredom. You also have shown symptoms of malignant narcissism- demonstrations of joyful cruelty and sadism, paranoia, aggression, a need for power- and the lying! The constant story telling! These are all tell-tale signs. We’re putting you on a course of drugs and therapy, and if your condition deteriorates further, we have the means to deal with it, rest assured."

"I hate your fucking guts." he snapped.

"Anger is a common response. Your denial is as well-"

"This is bull shit." Joker muttered, shaking his head.

"Do you enjoy being locked in your room at all times?" Dr. Arkham asked, the young man didn’t respond, but his expression hardened, he might have well just said ‘no’. "The drugs will help you calm down."

"I don’t want any." he snapped, his hands clenched into fists.

"You already know we can force you to take them. Why fight constantly? You don’t have to."

"Why not? I said no! It’s a great reason!"

"Do you like being so angry all the time?" the younger man snorted and smiled briefly.

"I guess I do. How can I not be angry? I hate it here. I want out." the last three words were growled out menacingly.

"You actions have put you here. No one forced you to do all those terrible things." A condescending smirk appeared on the Joker’s face, he began to giggle wildly.

"That was a masterpiece! You ignorant fool!" he began to laugh again as the doctor’s eyes widened in disbelief. "That was the best thing I’ve done so far! Look what I did to Dent! That was.." he licked his lips, his smile was exultant.

"That man didn’t deserve-"

"But the best part was when he flipped a coin to decide whether or not to kill me, then I knew he was finally seeing things my way!" he gushed, bouncing in his seat, and giggling again. "That wasn’t half as fun as Batman though! The fool never wavered in his beliefs, which I find so... Endearing. Hm." he broke into another peal of laughter. "For a moment I thought he really meant to kill me..." his tongue darted out to prod a scar. "It was so much fun.." he all but purred. The whole memory seemed to calm him immensely. But the joy quickly faded from his face as he turned his attention back to Arkham. "This place is sucking the fun right out of me. I can’t deny it. But I have my ways as well. And you’ll never beat me. Ever."

"We’re not-"

"I want to go back to my room now." he announced loudly.

"Very well."

 

 

*****

 

He’d done it. He’d torn the canvas of the straight-jacket. He was drenched in sweat and breathless from the struggle, but there was now a small tear just beneath a buckle attached to his sleeve. The orderlies had given him his dinner, let him use the bathroom, and then had strapped him right back in the damned thing. He hated it. It made it difficult to take a deep breath, he had a perpetual wedgie, it was torture. A fairly mild form, but torture none the less.

The moment they had shoved him in his room he began to struggle with the thing, snarling and spitting as he tugged and twisted. He threw himself at the padded walls a few times in his frustration. But then he’d gotten an idea. He knew it was likely stupid and would prove ineffectual, but he was willing to try anything. He forced his arms as far away from his body and wedged his knee between his chest and his arms and began to push with all his might. When he was sure his wrists or forearms would snap he heard a faint sound of cloth ripping.

After several minutes of lying in a sweaty heap he began to tug with all his might. The tear began to widen.

 

 

 

TBC..

A/N: all the diagnoses are bullshit- I know nothing. Although I must admit this is the first fanfic I’ve ever done research for. I hope it helped!

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable): Joker/OC

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.

 

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