A/N- The 400(ish) words long piece of literature in between these symbols: -*- is written in third person, omniscient, while the rest of the story is written in first person that bounces around between the main cast. This is here just to make sure you don’t get confused!
A pair of green eyes scanned the pictures in a therapist directory, flipping through page after page, staring at picture after picture- waiting to detect the perfect subject.
When suddenly the man stopped, and stabbed his finger in the middle of a page towards the end of the book.
“I want her!” He commanded at the other man in the room.
“I'm sorry, but she only handles patient paperwork and those sorts of things. She doesn't deal with high-class criminals, like yourself.” The opposite man quipped in a monotonic, English, accent.
“I don't care. I won't talk to anyone but her.”
“Why her?” The English man scratched at his chin.
“Don't psycho-analyze me, doc, I just want her.” The green eyed man tore out the page with his requested doctor and snapped the dusty book shut.
“I will put you through electric-shock therapy... again.” The doctor threatened.
The patient shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“I will hand your case off to Doctor Crane.”
Another shrug and eye-roll.
“I'll put you in a cell with Edward Nygma.”
The other man made a light scoffing noise and kicked his feet up.
“I'll... put you in a cell with Victor Zsasz.”
He rumbled with laughter now, “Are you kidding me? Zsasz is so much fun a parties! He can appreciate the pleasure in using weapons within the blade-and-handle family.” The madman laughed and his mouth opened into a grin, “You know, you're never going to win with me. Just get me Doctor Quinzel, and all will be good!” He clasped both hands together at the side of his face and smiled.
“Fine, Mr. Joker, I will get the doctor that you requested. Please wait while I make a few calls.”
“Alright, but make it snappy, Strange 'ole boy! I haven't got all night!”
Doctor Hugo Strange, head Doctor over Arkham Asylum's most notorious and criminally insane patients, walked down the blank hallway toward the nurse's station. Just before his finger connected with the call bell- he heard a fit of mad, verging on manic, laughter escape from the cell that he had just left the Joker in. He rubbed his gloved fingers against his temples.
This was going to be a very long night indeed.
1. Ready To Go~
~You've Got These Little Things
That You've Been Running From
You Either Love Them Or I Guess You Don't
You're Such A Pretty Thing
To Be Running From Anyone
A Vision With Nowhere To Go
-Panic! At the Disco (Ready To Go [Get Me Outta My Mind]
Vrrrr vrrr, vrrr vrrr.
I heard my phone buzz on my bedside table and my eyes fluttered open. Looking at the numbers on my digital clock I cursed internally; It was 1:07 AM, damn.
Sitting up, I grabbed my blackberry off of the table. It was the Asylum calling.
Pressing the answer button down, I mumbled my title and a brief greeting into the receiver.
"Hello Doctor, this is GCPD Commissioner Gordon speaking, I apologize for the late call but he requested you personally."
What? I thought, Nobody has ever called me doctor before. "Commissioner, I apologize, but it is one in the morning. I have no idea who or what you're talking about."
"Do you have a television, Doctor?" The Commissioner questioned warily.
"Of course, why?"
"You might want to tune it in to News Station 3, I believe Jack Rider-" I instinctively look to my left side-- sure enough Jack's gone,"- is reporting right now on tonight's events. Call the Asylum back at extension four-two-three when you understand." The phone line went dead.
I never did comprehend why policemen were so cryptic, but either way I grab the remote control and switch the TV to the appointed station.
Sure enough, I see Channel 3 News Anchor, love of my life, Jack Rider. His lips quivering against his hastily spoken words.
I turn up the volume, "… I say again, The Joker had been captured by Batman!” Jack beamed into the camera.
“When we come back, we'll go to Vicki Vale, live at Arkham Asylum with Gotham City Police Department Commissioner James Gordon." The camera zoomed out, and the screen switched immediately to commercials. There was one for Gotham city reality, the Real Housewives of Gotham, Wayne enterprises something or other, and then finally the news came back and I saw the blonde hair, blue eye visage of Vicki Vale.
"Hello, and good early-morning Gothamites. This is Vicki Vale reporting, live with GCPD Commissioner Gordon.” She took a breath, steam escaping from her pink lips when she exhaled.
“Commissioner Gordon what has really been going on, this fall night in Gotham?" Her voice had the exact blend of cockiness and confidence that a reporter should have.
"Well, Miss Vale, as you know the Joker was on another one of his schemes tonight. He was planning on setting off bombs all over Gotham, at every hour starting at five this coming morning." Gordon paused and licked his lips. "But as you can see, we all are still an explosion free Gotham, thanks to Batman."
"So, Commissioner, what you're telling me-- correct me if I'm wrong-- is that Gotham is finally safe from the infamous Agent of Chaos?"
Something clicked in my brain then, and I gaped at the TV screen.
Joker. He's going to be my first patient.
I jumped out of bed, not bothering to listen to Gordon's Gotham-Is-Now-Safe-Thanks-To-Batman speech. He's said those words far too many times for them to have meaning anymore. Especially when the situation involved Joker. It was a never-ending circle with him, the catch and inevitable escape. A circle that I was determined to break, even if it drove me insane in the process.
Running over to the closet I tore my fire-engine red dress off the hanger. I always saw myself in this dress interviewing my first Patient. Next came the only pair of heels I possessed, which were onyx-black stilettos.
Always dress to impress, even if the person who you are about to meet is a psychopathic murderer, right?
I nodded yes to myself, marching proudly to the bathroom.
After getting out of the shower, dressing, and carefully pinning my long golden-blonde hair into a bun, I slid my glasses over the bridge of my nose.
I'm ready to go.
Walking out into the main living area I immediately spot my doctor's coat hanging on the back of the door. I can hardly contain my excitement as I sprint over to it, almost tripping over my own feet several times on the way, and slide the gloriously pure and unworn white coat over my flaming dress.
I am perfect.
Spinning happily in a circle I faced the door again and when I noticed a piece of paper scotch-taped to the surface, I rip it away immediately recognizing the chicken-scratch scrawl of my fiance.
I didn't want to wake you when I got called in to do a report on Joker... I don't think it's anything too major. Just that psycho up to his shenanigans again.
But hey, maybe you'll catch a break and be his psychiatrist this time. What has it been? Only a thousand ways that you've petitioned Strange to get a badge, and get out of that paper-pushing job?
Love you. Always.
My heart skips a beat every time Jack tells me that he loves me and I pull out my phone intending to text him that I love him too, but find my phone already buzzing in my hand.
I shake my head, the Asylum again.
Right when I clicked “accept” the person on the other end was talking. His voice a deep, husky baritone.
"Doctor Quinzel. I am aware of the late hour, but the Joker is getting impatient." Oh.
"B-Batman?" I asked, dumbfounded, eyes widening.
"Yes, now, I will be in my vehicle at the front of your apartment complex in ten minutes. I will be personally escorting you to your interview with the Joker. Along the way we will be discussing his case file. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir. I would like that very much. I'll be seeing you in ten minutes." I could barely believe I was talking to The Dark Knight himself, let alone that I would be getting in his famous car in less than ten minutes.
There was a fantastic noise on the other end of the line and then sounds of a scuffle. A man's voice screamed, and another man, whose voice I recognized as Hugo Strange, yelled “Knife!”
Batman sighed, the end of the breathy sound coming out as a growl.
“Better make that five, Quinzel.”
My eyes widened further. What had just happened? “Uh, Okay. Goodbye, Sir.”
Batman mumbled something unintelligible.
“What was that?” My voice seemed to go up an octave.
“I said, 'Don't call me sir.'” Batman quipped and I blinked
A second passes before I realize that I’m just listening to the dull ring of the dial tone. I stow away my phone, internally bracing myself for- what may just turn out to be- the longest night of my life.