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Part Ten: Chapter 58: The Dr. Strange Exchange

The Joker awoke the next morning in a cold sweat on the floor of his cell in solitary confinement. His clothes were drenched all the way through from a cold sweat. His head was pounding with a debilitating headache. It felt as if someone was literally trying to drive a railroad spike into his brain. His entire body felt stiff and ached, as if someone came into his cell and beat the hell out of him while he slept. Chills shoot down his arms, and his teeth threaten to chatter. He's unsure as to why he was sweating. Maybe the pain of the headache was causing it. He couldn't really explain his condition any other way.

The Joker opens his eyes, knowing that the only light he would see was a thin strip at the bottom of the solid steel door on his cell. Nausea sweeps him the second he moves to get off the floor, and he dry heaves. He could feel the throbbing in his head all the way to his feet. The nausea suddenly grows and he knows he better make it to the commode fast. He feels around in the dark for the toilet. He finds it and falls to his knees in front of it just as the vomit starts pouring out of his mouth. Maybe the Arkham cuisine was disagreeing with him.

The Joker tries to regain his composure. He turns on the sink and splashes water on his face. His guts churn and he dry heaves a few more times, his stomach now empty. He doesn't recall ever feeling this sick before. He can feel the sweat trickle down his face from the edges of his hairline. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. He feels his way over to the door and finds the entercom button. Maybe he would feel less miserable in some dry clothes.

"What do you want Joker?" A voice comes across the intercom speaker.

"I'm not feeling well. I'm all sweaty. I need a dry uniform," he says as he hunched over and cradled his stomach.

There was no answer back so the Joker doesn't know if his request will be filled or not. He lays down on his bunk because he starts to feel dizzy. His body felt as if the room was spinning, wether he could see it or not. He feels the urge to dry heave again. Dry heaving was so much worse than actually throwing up. He wipes the sweat from his forehead. A shiver shoots up his spine and goosebumps form all over him. He rolls onto his side and curls into fetal position, cold, wet, and shivering.

Two hours later his cell door finally opens. Two guards stand there. One is pointing a taxed at the Joker. The other is holding a dry uniform across his arm as his hand is readied over his tazer. They take one look at the Joker and furrow their brows at one another. The Joker can tell that the guards sensed that something is awry. Not that they think he's sick, but that they didn't trust that the Joker wasn't pulling a stunt as a means to escape. Or kill, depending on how bored he might be.

"Maybe we should take him to the infirmary," the guard with the tazer says to the other as he watches as the Joker shivers in a cold sweat.

The guard holding the uniform reaches up to his radio on his shoulder. "We need a straight jacket at the Joker's cell for transport to the infirmary. Over."

A third guard shows up and hesitantly walks into the Joker's cell as the other two cover him. Normally the Joker would jump at any opportunity for amusement, but he's trying to be on his best behavior. Plus, he felt awful, too awful to put up a fight. He gladly sits up on his bunk and sticks out his arms. The Joker could feel the guard shaking almost as bad as he was. When the Joker stands the room starts to spin out of control. He stumbled and fell into the guard.

"Damn, did somebody drug the clown? He's burning up. Oh god I hope he's not contagious," the guard says as he steadied the Joker.

He helps the Joker out of his cell and let's him walk ahead of them. The Joker only gets a quarter of the way down the hall before he has to lean into the wall for support. The Joker had to ask himself if he had been drugged. He can't exactly trust his own memory to always be reliable. Then it dawned on him, maybe it was whatever Dr. Strange shoved into his neck. It figures that something that felt that good had a terrible downside to it.