A Three Jokers Orgin story. So there's been a lot of Joker in the news lately. Lots of debate about giving him an origin story. Should he have one? Should it be multiple choice? Should it be a mystery? Well I'm curious by nature. I love the origin s...
The sound of the cells opening for breakfast woke me. I had apparently fallen asleep at Mistah J's side, holding his hand in mine. I raise my head up off the side of the bed. I can feel his hand lightly twitch in mine. I smile as I look at the peaceful look on his face, despite his stitched forehead and all the bruises. His eyelids fluttered and I could tell he was dreaming. I gently stroke the back of his hand with my free one and look at all the bruising over his ribs. It looked like a large area was painted solid purple. That damn guard had probably busted one of Mistah J's ribs. I hear him draw in a breath and his eyes slightly open. I feel him grip my hand and a small smile comes to his face.
"Mmmm, I was just dreaming about you," he says softly. "I was taking you on a proper date."
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"Maybe when ya get outta this place ya can do just that," I smile and nod. "I have ta go have a talk with Dr. Arkham. I'll come back ta check on ya soon." I release his hand and stand up to leave. I press the intercom and tell the guard to let me out.
"Hey, Harley," Mistah J says and lifts his head to look at me, "when you come back do you think you could bring me some pudding?"
"Absolutely," I smile at him.
The solid metal door opens and I walk out. I go downstairs to my office and do my best to make it look as though I hadn't been up most of the night. Hopefully Dr. Arkham won't notice that I'm still in yesterday's clothes. My white coat had been destroyed last night, so I'd have to get another one from my apartment later. I do my best to straighten my hair and test my breath by blowing in the palm of my hand. Hopefully I wouldn't have to be too terribly close to him.
I leave my office and get to Dr. Arkham's office as he's unlocking his door. "Dr. Arkham, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?" I say.
"Good morning Dr. Quinzel," he sighs, "But I'm not giving you consent to let the Joker roam around the hospital and grounds. Every single time we've tried he either kills someone, or he escapes. He's staying in his cell. Period."
"Actually, there was another matter I wanted to discuss with you," I nervously say and push my glasses up on my nose.
Dr. Arkham sighs again and goes into his office and turns on the lights. I walk in behind him and sit in a chair in front of his desk. "Right after I got off the phone with you last night I found a guard in the Joker's cell beating him. Kicking him with steel tied boots in the side. His forehead had to be stitched and this morning his ribs are purple. I'm pretty sure he probably had a break or fracture."
Dr. Arkham folds his hands on top of his desk, "The Joker probably started it by trying to attack the guard to escape again."
"No," I say and shake my head, "He says the guard attacked him."
"Well of course he did," Dr. Arkham looks at her awkwardly, "he's a psychopath, he never acknowledges that what he's done is wrong. The fault is always someone elses."
