Humans. Monsters. Heroes. Villains.

Chapter 3: Yelling Lady

I will give them nightmares to haunt their dreams long after I'm gone.
- Laini Taylor

* * *

*2 weeks later*
The Joker didn't think he could keep this up much longer.

Three weeks. He'd been pulling off this goody-goody act for three weeks, and they still kept him locked up every moment of every day and night.

If they didn't decide to just let him out for meals again already, he might lose it. And that was not gonna be pretty. He wondered what one of the pencils they were always using would look like jammed into someone's skull.

It would probably look very nice. But, you know, that was just his opinion.

"What," he mumbled to himself in frustration as he once again sat leaning against the wall and thinking, "has a guy got to do around here to get a little freedom?"

Oops. He probably shouldn't have said that out loud, since he was being monitored right now. There were microphones in his cell with people listening day and night, just in case he said anything interesting. Which he just had.

Oddly enough, no voices crackled through the air to ask him questions. Puzzled, the Joker tilted his head to the side, listening.

Silence.

Wait, no. Not silence. There was the faint sound of voices crackling through the speakers, but quietly.

The Joker listened closely, trying to catch the strains of conversation as it drifted through the air in bursts of static.

It sounded like two people arguing heatedly.

A woman's voice. "I need to talk to this psycho and have a strong word with him before anyone even thinks about letting him out of that cell even once."

"Look, miss, unless you have a pass saying he's your client -"

"I'm the head of his freaking department!"

"Yes, miss, I'm aware of that, but you still need an official pass to see him. Plus, we would have to escort him to the conference room to ensure your safety."

"Oh, believe me, I don't need a conference room to keep that freak from hurting me," snapped the woman's voice.

The Joker sneered. She shouldn't be so sure about that.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you can't see him."

There was what sounded like a growl of frustration. "Who's he the client of?"

"Oliver Fer-"

It seemed that the woman had stalked away before the guard had even finished his sentence. Silence resumed.

A few minutes later, the guard finally realized that the microphone had been on for that entire conversation. There was some colorful swearing, then complete silence as the microphone was shut off.

The Joker pondered this new information. Someone certainly didn't want him let out of his cell - at all. Not even just for meals.

She must really not like him. What a pity.

He wondered why she had a particular problem with him. That was what he a assumed had happened, unless this lady had a fit every time an inmate was let out of his cell.

If that was the case, they should probably fire her. Weren't the workers here supposed to be "kind" and try to "respectfully inquire and learn" about the inmate's situations and motivations and junk? The Joker was pretty sure he'd read that in some booklet or brochure when he first got here.