Chapter Text
September 1st, 2011
Amber nervously picked at her cuticles as she waited for the man on the other side of the desk to finish reviewing her file. The only sound in the room for the past ten minutes was the ticking of the clock on the wall, so it really wasn’t her fault for flinching when he suddenly cleared his throat. She sat up in her chair, ready for him to begin speaking. All he did was turn a page. She slumped a bit in disappointment and continued waiting.
After a few more nerve-wracking seconds, he closed the file, removed his glasses, and looked at her with an unreadable expression. She stared back in anticipation.
"Well, I believe I've seen enough,” he said with a sigh.
Amber felt her stomach flop at his words and looked down at her hands to hide her disappointment. She'd really been hoping to get this job, not just because of the pay but because she'd felt she might make a difference here. There was always something negative being said about this place and she wanted to help, she wanted to turn things around for the better.
The man stood up from his desk and extended his hand out to her. "Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Miss Johnson. I look forward to working with you," he said.
Amber's head snapped up, her mouth opened and closed a few times before she leapt up and grasped his hand, pumping it enthusiastically. "Thank you, Dr. Arkham! I hope to be of some help," she gushed and beamed at her new boss.
Dr. Arkham looked as if he were about to speak but paused when he looked directly into her eyes. His smile faltered for a moment. "Oh dear," he said aloud.
Amber’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it?" she asked.
"You have green eyes," he told her.
“I have gr…” She couldn’t help but pull a perplexed face at his statement. “What's wrong with me having green eyes?"
The doctor seemed to realize he’d spoken aloud and abruptly changed gears. "Nothing! Nothing at all! Do forgive me, I was just – uh," he glanced at the clock, "Oh my, is that the time? I'm going to be late for a lunch meeting with the board." He began to gather papers and stuff them into a briefcase.
"So, um," Amber said uncertainly, "When do I start?"
Dr. Arkham looked up from his papers. “Oh, yes. Um, you start tomorrow afternoon. I'll have an email sent to you providing more details."
Amber nodded, thanked him again, and headed for the door.
"Oh, and Miss Johnson?"
She stopped and glanced back.
"Good luck," he told her. She smiled and closed the door behind her. A weary sigh escaped from the doctor. "You're gonna need it," he sing-songed.
The Next Day
September 2nd, 2011
In Arkham Asylum's cafeteria, two groups of patients sat at tables on opposite sides of the room. These two groups consisted of people who were well known not only in the asylum, but also in Gotham City. The other patients tried to sit as far away as possible from them because of the feud that was currently going on between the two leaders.
A poll had been published in a popular magazine about which Rogue the citizens of Gotham thought was the most creative in his schemes. It ended up being a tie between the Clown Prince of Crime, a. k. a. the Joker, and The Prince of Puzzles Edward Nigma, a. k. a. the Riddler. Because both men were extremely narcissistic, they weren’t happy about the tie. No. There could only be one winner.
Today, the patients were allowed to wear whatever they wanted, but had to have bright orange plastic wrist bands. It was a new idea of therapy that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham wanted to try out. He figured that by allowing them a bit of freedom in their choice of clothes, it might somehow bring about a sense of belonging for the patients. Most of the staff had disagreed but, in the end, Dr. Arkham won. It didn’t go unnoticed by the whole staff that the Rogues had chosen to wear clothes that were nearly identical to their iconic criminal outfits.
At the table closest to the cafeteria’s entrance, sat the Joker and his group of supporters. These were the other criminals who agreed that the Joker’s creativity surpassed Nigma’s, though they couldn’t recall actually agreeing to being on his ‘team’.
The group consisted of the Joker’s on-and-off-again girlfriend and henchwench Harley Quinn, a henchman whom the clown often employed in his crimes by the name of Tommy Tetch and his cousin Jervis Tetch, who was more widely known as the Mad Hatter. Oswald Cobblepot (aka the Penguin) was also roped in along with Waylon Jones (aka Killer Croc), and Arnold Wesker (aka the Ventriloquist) with his mobster dummy, Scarface.
The Joker had had a hard time convincing them to join his 'team', but in the end they accepted; mostly because he was the most feared patient in Arkham.
As for Edward Nigma; his team consisted of those who agreed that, yes, he was a brilliant genius – maybe not as unpredictably creative as the Joker – but still creative. They also harbored a deep dislike of the clown.
The Riddler’s henchwenches, Echo and Query sat on either side of Nigma, while Jonathan Crane (the Scarecrow), Pamela Isley (Poison Ivy), and Harvey Dent (Two-Face) took up the other seats at the table.
"Has he put down the fork yet?" Nigma asked, his cultured accent making the request sound more important than ridiculous. At least he hoped it did.
Echo leaned out and looked over at the Joker's table across the cafeteria. The clown lounged languidly in his seat, lazily twirling a fork in his hand – an item that the orderlies had no idea how he came to possess, nor were any of them eager to be the one to try to take it away from him.
"Negative," she replied. The Riddler clenched his teeth.
"It's just a fork. What can he possibly do with a fork?" Query asked.
Nigma looked at Query and started to twirl his cane. Oh, he'd had quite a time trying to get the staff to let him have it back in his hands, even after they made doubly sure that it was disarmed, but thanks to Dr. Arkham’s new therapeutic techniques, he was finally granted access to it.
"I've seen what he can do with a pencil, my dear. I can only imagine what he can do with a fork," he replied. Query raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Why don't we just go and kill 'em now and be done with it," Dent growled, his deformed lips curling into a snarl.
"Be my guest, but don't say I didn't warn you," Nigma said off-handedly.
Dent looked over at the Joker's table, undecided. He grumbled as he flipped his double-headed coin. He used to say he made his own luck, but now one side was marred just like his own face, and he relied on the object to make important – and some not-so-important decisions for him.
The coin landed in his palm. Looking at its outcome, he glared and stayed seated. The coin had spoken.
While Nigma and his posse observed the Joker’s table, the Joker and his team observed them right back.
The purple-clad menace continued to twirl the fork in his hand while he pointedly kept his back to the opposing side. "Jerry, has he put his cane down yet," he asked.
Jervis Tetch looked over his shoulder. "Never without it, sir," he responded.
The Joker clenched his yellow-stained teeth and looked over at the Riddler. "Drop. The. Cane!" he hiss-whispered and turned back around to face Harley.
The moment the clown’s back was to him, Nigma also turned in his seat and hiss-whispered, "Drop. The. Fork,” before turning away again. Slumping over, elbows on the table and head in his hands, Nigma grumbled, "Either he puts the fork down soon or I need to come up with a better plan."
Both men angled their bodies in their seats to twist back around to look at each other at the same time and raised their hands in a half-wave with fake grins plastered on their faces. "Heeey," they said in unison. They began to turn their backs on each other, both mumbling, "I hate your guts," under their breaths all the while maintaining a smile on their scheming faces.
Cobblepot adjusted his eye monocle and sighed. "Joker, this waiting is getting very tiresome." He had little time for these antics. No doubt his lawyer was even now winning him an order of release and he'd be back in time to open his beloved nightclub, the Iceberg Lounge.
The Joker glared at him. "How is this 'tiresome'? You're doing nothing!" He flicked the fork away in disgust, grumbling at how lazy the man was.
Nigma saw this and leapt to his feet. "He dropped the fork! Attack!" he declared, extending his cane out like a sword drawn for battle. His group began to run across the room towards the surprisingly oblivious enemy.
The Joker still sat with his back to the Riddler's team, so he couldn't see the mob of villains behind him. Sighing with boredom, he reached inside the inner pocket of his coat and brought out a freshly sharpened pencil.
The Riddler stopped dead in his tracks, arms extended out to stop the others. They nearly barreled over him in the process. Ivy came close to being clothes-lined by his arm. “Nigma!” she hissed, “What are you –,”
"He's got a pencil! Withdraw!" he cried. Spinning around on his heel, he hastily shooed and shepherded them with his cane back to their table.
Ivy glared at him. "Why did we retreat?" she asked, clearly miffed.
Nigma adjusted his green bowler hat with as much dignity as he could scrape up. "We were not retreating. We were advancing…to a future victory," he explained.
"Really? Cause it looks to me like we 'advanced' back a few feet," she hissed.
The Riddler pointed at her sternly. "Do not question my methods, Ivy!"
The red head shrugged. "I just think we should advance forward."
The Riddler switched from pointing at Ivy to himself. "That's why I'm the leader, and you're not."
Ivy clenched her teeth, folded her arms, and turned her back on him. Nigma also turned away from her and slouched down in his seat. It was rather ungentlemanly of him, but he was in a bad mood and her criticism wasn’t improving it.
"Stupid tree-hugger," he muttered under his breath.
Over at the other table, Harley had taken it upon herself to massage her boyfriend’s shoulders. Her Puddin’ needed something to relax those tense muscles of his.
"He's just jealous of you, that's what," she said. "Jealous that he can't think to use everyday materials as weapons an' can only use a cane."
Although…
She glanced over at the Riddler. It was known that Nigma’s cane was more than just a prop in his hands. It could be used as a weapon, and no one knew the full extent of what it could do.
"Gotta admit, it’s a pretty nifty cane, though.”
Harley felt the Joker's shoulders tense under her hands. He slowly turned his head to face her. A nervous laugh bubbled out of her. "But you’re so clever, Puddin’, what would you need with a gizmo like that,” she quickly added.
"Yeah, Puddin'," Scarface mocked.
The Joker grabbed his fork and pointed it at the puppet. "You want me to glue your mouth shut with Gorilla Glue? Cuz I will." he threatened.
"Touchy," Scarface mumbled.
"We could throw rocks at them," Croc offered.
"Such a Neanderthal," Cobblepot sniffed.
The Joker rolled his eyes. "Is that your answer to everything, Croc," he asked.
"Huh?"
"When Batman runs after you; you throw a rock at him. The police are on your trail; you throw a rock at them. A bird won't stop tweet-tweeting at your window; you throw a stone. What's your world domination plan, hm? Rain rocks down on the White House?"
"Aw, calm down, Puddin'. It's not Croc's fault that he doesn't have brains like you," Harley purred as she tickled the Joker's chin. He slapped her hand away. Harley pouted and looked back at Nigma. He stood with his back facing her and she ran an appraising eye over his physic.
The scrub-like uniforms they usually were forced to wear weren’t the most flattering style on everybody, especially for lean men like Nigma. But with that tailored green suit on…
Harley cocked her head to the side. Do he got the booty?
Nigma bent over to do something that Harley couldn't have cared less about because her question had been answered.
He doooo!
At some point the Joker had asked her a question and when no response came, he looked at her to find her gaze focused on the Riddler's gluts. He growled and glared intensely at her until she felt it. Her head snapped back in the Joker's direction. "Yours is cute too!" she blurted.
The Joker jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Why don't you go and join Mr. Puzzles since you admire him so much?" he asked sarcastically.
Harley straightened herself and managed to look unbothered. "Maybe I will."
"Then go right ahead," the Joker dared.
"Fine, I’m going!" Harley spat.
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
She began to march confidently towards the Riddler's table but before she'd taken more than four steps, she glanced back at the Joker and her shoulders slumped. "I miss him already," she whimpered, but continued her trek towards the Riddler.
All eyes were on her as she tapped him on the shoulder. He smoothly swung around in his seat to properly look at her. She wiggled her fingers at him and smiled. "Hi-ya, Ed," she greeted.
The Riddler cocked an eyebrow. "Miss Quinn, may I help you?"
"Uh…yeah, uh…” She clasped her hands behind her back and gave him her most winning smile while batting her eyes. “Can I join your team?"
Ivy smiled proudly at her best friend’s decision to leave the Joker’s table. Echo and Query took one look at Harley, calculated the threat she posed for taking Nigma’s attention from them and shook their heads in a definite 'no' while Dent nodded ‘yes’ like a bobble head. Crane merely shrugged, unconcerned with the outcome.
Nigma looked Harley over, not in a leering way, but assessing, and put a hand to his chin. "Hmmm," he sounded. "Well, I believe there’s more than enough room for you to join."
Harley let out a high-pitched happy squeal and wrapped her arms around his neck.
The Joker, who’d been watching the proceedings, went completely still except for his thumb, which bent his fork in half. Everyone at the table was quiet.
“Um,” Arnold began, only to be quickly silenced by Scarface.
“Don’t.” The puppet’s head shook from side to side. “Just don’t. The man’s squeeze just dumped him. Don’t say a word, ya little worm.”
“She didn’t dump me,” the Joker growled.
Scarface and Arnold flinched. “Of c-course she d-didn’t,” Arnold stuttered.
The clown went to dig into the food on his tray only to be confronted with the present state of his destroyed spoon. Tommy Tetch stood up and saluted his boss. "I'll get you another one, sir," he said quickly and started to run off.
"Bring me the whole box!" the Joker yelled. Tommy saluted again and kept running, eager to get away from the tense atmosphere.
Cobblepot leaned towards Arnold and Scarface. "So, Scarface –," he began.
The Joker's head snapped around to face him, his dark eyes blazing. "What did you just call me?"
Cobblepot jumped and sputtered, "What? No! I meant the puppet!"
Scarface's head spun around. "Who you callin' a puppet, bud," he demanded.
Laughter from the other side of the room stopped the argument from going any further. The Joker snapped his head around and saw Harley in the middle of a full-blown laughing fit while touching Nigma’s arm. The Joker's eye twitched and his hands balled into fists.
Tommy came back with a box of plastic sporks and held them out to him. "It’s all I could find. Here ya go, sir," he said happily.
The Joker grabbed a handful of the utensils so quickly it caused Tommy to drop the box, spilling the sporks on the floor.
The clown pointed at the mess. "Now look what you did."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Pick them up!"
"Yes, sir, right away, sir!" Tommy dropped to his knees and began to pick up the sporks.
"Still taking orders from a circus clown, Tommy?" a female's voice said. Tommy looked to his right to see a pale-skinned young woman in her early twenties, with long dark brown hair, looking down at him with obvious disapproval in her blue-grey eyes. He knew her well enough from shared therapy groups and the occasional gym time.
"I mean, he’s still my boss, Katherine.”
“Is he though? Looks to me like he’s stuck in here, same as you.”
“He’ll get out eventually. He always does.”
“Yeah. And it annoys the heck out of me every time he manages it.” She held out her hand to help Tommy up. Being six feet tall herself, she was able to look him directly in the eyes.
Jervis, having witnessed the exchange pointed at Katherine. "I say, aren't you the sister of that patient who panics every time he hears the word 'bat'? What's his name?"
Katherine turned to face him. "Caleb. Yeah, I used to torture him with a toy bat when we were younger. It didn't exactly turn out how I thought." She sat down on the seat next to the Joker without any hesitation. "So, you can imagine how I feel, knowing that there's some vigilante guy dressed up as a bat roaming about Gotham City."
"Guilty?" Arnold asked.
Katherine gave a confused look. "What? No! I'm laughing my head off! I think it's hilarious."
The Joker raised an eyebrow and slid next to her. "Funny, huh?" he asked with a smile. “You enjoy seeing the funny side?” His arm went around her shoulder while sneaking glances over at Harley to see if she was watching.
Katherine’s nose wrinkled in displeasure. "Yeeeaaaah – no." She shoved his arm off with obvious disgust. "Not even going there," she told him. He frowned when she turned away as if he weren’t worth her time.
"So, what are ya in for, toots?" Scarface asked, wooden jaw clacking.
"Just some misunderstanding about terrorizing two radio talk show hosts who didn't play the music I wanted. I've been told I have a no control over my impulses to lash out when people annoy me. I ask you, is that a crime?"
Tommy was the only one to shake his head ‘no’.
"Thank you," Katherine said with a smile.
Harley tried not to stare. She really, really did. It was obviously some ploy on the Joker’s part to make her jealous. But that stupid brunette wouldn’t vacate the seat next to her Puddin’! She was still sitting there! All nice and cozy next to her man!
"Harl, are you okay," Ivy asked her friend.
"I'm fine, Red."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Then stop grinding your teeth and glaring like that! You're scaring the other patients!"
Katherine looked across the room to see the other team and her blue-grey eyes widened with interest. "Hold up. Is that the Riddler?"
"Yes," the Joker grumbled.
Katherine gasped. "Oh my gosh! I’ve been in this asylum for a year hoping to catch a glimpse and now I finally get to be in the same room as him!”
“Big fan?” Scarface asked with amusement.
“Duh! I love him! He is so funny!"
The Joker stiffened at her words then gave a small chuckle. "Uh, funny? No, no, no, no. You must have him confused with me."
Katherine’s expression went flat. "No, I know you. You're the Joker, although I don't know how you got that name since you're about as funny as a dead parrot."
The Joker's jaw dropped. Tommy held out a spork to him. "Do you want this, boss?" he asked.
Katherine narrowed her eyes. “Brutus,” she whispered.
The Joker licked his lips and forced a smile to appear. "No, Tommy Boy, that won't be necessary," he said through clenched teeth. But Katherine seemed bound and determined to get on his bad side.
"What kind of a criminal calls himself 'The Clown Prince of Crime'? That's just idiotic. And you wear make-up.'"
"It's war paint."
"It's make-up no matter what you say. The Riddler doesn’t wear ‘war paint’. He doesn’t need to. He’s like, the best villain ever!”
The Joker slammed a purple gloved fist onto the table. "I've had enough of this!" he shouted and stood up. Grabbing Katherine by the arm, he began to march to the Riddler's table.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Katherine barked. “Hands off the merchandise, clownboy!”
Harley gave a smug grin as the Joker approached. "Miss me already?" she asked, tossing her hair fetchingly over her shoulder.
The Joker ignored her remark and kept his eyes on the enemy. "I propose a trade," he suggested.
"I second that," Katherine said. She didn't know exactly who she'd be traded with, but if she ended up on the Riddler's side she had nothing to complain about.
"I second that too!" Harley squealed.
"Don't you mean third?" Katherine scoffed and muttered under her breath, "I knew you were just some dumb blond."
Harley smirked and leaned back in her seat. "You think I'm some dumb, blond, bimbo; well ha ha! The joke's on you! I'm not even a real blond."
The Riddler gasped in shock. "You're not a real blond?"
"No."
Nigma turned to the Joker. "I agree to the trade," he announced.
As soon as the Joker released Katherine, she dashed over to the Riddler and wrapped her arms around his neck while rubbing her face against his cheek. “Ack! Um? Hello, madam?” Nigma greeted uncertainly.
Harley started to skip back to her Mistah J, but he held up a hand. "Ah-ta-ta-ta-tah; no," the Joker said.
Harley looked at the Joker with a perplexed expression on her face. "But, Puddin', –,” she began until he cut her off.
"You are a traitor and there’s no rooooom for traitors on my team."
"But you said 'trade'."
"I didn't say I wanted to trade for you, did I?"
Harley's mouth dropped open. The Riddler pushed Katherine's face away. "Who do you want then?"
The Joker pointed at Query. "Which one are you? Are you Echo or Query?"
Query batted her eyelashes as she sidled up to the clown. "Which one do you want me to be?" she asked.
"Hey!" Nigma barked and jerked her over to his side.
The Joker sighed. "Okay, fine." He scanned the faces at the table and lingered on one towards the back. "You," he said, pointing at a short African American girl, who couldn’t have reached her twenties yet, with a round face, freckled cheeks, and extremely short black hair. She’d been minding her own business, quietly eating her lunch at the far end of the table. In fact, she'd been so quiet that the group hadn't even noticed her sitting at the table with them.
She gave a start and looked around to make sure he was addressing her. "Me?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes, you; the one I'm looking at and talking to. What's your name?" he snapped.
"Ch – Chelsea."
"Well, Ch – Chelsea, I pick you. You're on my team."
Chelsea shot up from her seat, lunch completely forgotten, and threw her hands above her head. "Woohoo! Yes!" She fist-pumped the air and ran over, pushing aside Ivy and jumped next to the Joker. She gripped his hand and shook it energetically. "Thank you, thank you! I am a big fan!"
The Joker smirked at Nigma. "Well, I have a fan," he bragged.
The Riddler grinned back and patted Katherine's head. "So do I."
The smirk vanished from the clown's face. "Come on," he ordered Chelsea.
As they walked off, Harvey leaned over towards Nigma. "Um, was she even on our team?"
Nigma shrugged. "Deuced if I should know, I didn't even see her sitting there."
"Everyone, this is Chelsea; say 'hi',” the Joker instructed like a kindergarten teacher.
"Hello Chelsea," the group chorused.
"Hey," she greeted back.
"So, what are ya in for, small fry?" Scarface asked.
"Well, I guess you could say that I'm very obsessive. When I get fixated on something, there’s no stopping me from becoming completely engrossed in whatever it is. The last guy I obsessed over went insane. I heard he was committed in an asylum in the next state over. Since I can’t exactly go and visit him, I’ve had to switch my fixation on something else.”
"And what would that be?" Jervis asked.
Chelsea gave a big grin and looked up adoringly at the Joker.
"You sure know how to pick 'em!" Scarface hooted. The Joker glared murderously at the puppet and mouthed, “Gorilla Glue,” at him. It’s jaw snapped shut. Warning received.
Katherine ran her fingers through the Riddler's red hair. Something that Nigma had always thought he would dislike but actually found it very soothing.
"I've been dying to ask you, Mr. Riddler…are you a natural red head?"
"Of course, I'm a natural red head."
Katherine gave Ivy a sidelong glance. "I bet she isn't a real redhead," she whispered to him.
He chuckled and sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned into her ministrations. "Well, at least I'm a natural. Unlike some," he emphasized as he peaked at Harley.
Harley stuck out her tongue and turned her back on them. She sighed sadly and faced Ivy. "Gee, Red, I'm starting to think that switching sides wasn't the best idea."
Ivy rolled her green eyes. "Listen Harl, you did good. You left that purple-clad pig."
"He's not a pig; he's a clown."
"You're missing the point."
"I am?"
"You stood up for yourself and came to the right side. Sure, it may be led by an overly pompous leprechaun in a green suit –," the Riddler threw her a glare, "but it's still the right side," Ivy finished.
"I don't know, Red," Harley sighed unhappily.
"Oh, forget it; you're hopeless!"
Katherine gazed at the green bowler hat that sat atop Nigma's head. "Can I wear your hat?"
He gave her a charming smile. "Why not," he said, removing it with a fancy flourish which Dent could tell was totally so he could show off his skills for her, and plopped it on her head.
"Yay!" she squealed. "This is the happiest day of my mentally unstable life!"
Meanwhile, the Joker and his team were gathered around their table plotting…well…trying to plot.
"Can I wear your coat, Mr. Joker?" Chelsea asked.
"No," he snapped and tried to carry on his scheming with his fellow criminals.
"But Katherine got to wear the Riddler's hat."
"Am I the Riddler? No! Do I have a hat? No. I have a coat and the coat stays on me. 'kay?" He gave Chelsea a pat on the cheek and grinned, turning back to the others.
Chelsea was motionless for a moment before she tried to snatch the coat off him.
"Hey!" the Joker barked. He grabbed her hands and pushed them away. "What did I just tell you?"
"No."
"And what does that mean?"
"It means 'yes'."
"What! Where did you get that idea?"
"It's Opposite Day! 'No' means 'yes'!"
The Joker stared at her, slack jawed. "What planet are you from?"
"My own," Chelsea answered calmly.
The Joker's eye twitched along with the skin near his nose as he stared down at Chelsea. "…SWITCH!" he shouted, running back to the other table with Chelsea in tow.
The Riddler looked at him lazily and glanced at his own team. "Nope. I'm good with what I've got," he said.
The Joker clenched his teeth. "Do you realize what I'm going through, Riddler? This girl is – is…" He looked down at her.
She gazed up at him with big brown eyes as she clutched his limb and nuzzled her head against his forearm. That's when he realized just how small she was compared to him. Sure, he was a little over six feet tall, but Chelsea barely even reached his chest.
Great…I'm being harassed by a mouse.
He returned his attention back to Nigma. "Take her off my hands!"
Nigma shook his head. "Dreadfully sorry, but I would be very much aggrieved if I lost a member of my squad now."
The Joker glared at him and them at Harley. "This is all your fault," he said and turned on his heel, stalking back to his table. Chelsea was practically dragged all the way since she was unable to keep up with his pace.
"So, no luck, eh?" Scarface asked as they returned.
The Joker rolled his eyes and stopped when his gaze happened to land on a young woman who had just entered the cafeteria.
Arkham Asylum was huge, some might even say massive. But as often as he’d been within its walls, he’d come to know every face that worked in the building. And he most certainly had never seen hers.
White scrubs and matching white converse shoes. A name tag was pinned to her uniform, but he couldn't make out the letters. Even from where he stood, he could tell that was tall for a woman. She had her long brown hair in a ponytail and an invisible sign above her head that screamed, “I’M NEW!”
"Ah, fresh meat, boys," he snickered to the other patients.
Their heads turned in the new nurse's direction and watched as she moved to a spot that had a good view of the entire cafeteria and leaned against a wall.
The Joker rubbed his hands together with glee. "Oh, thiiiis is going to be fuuun," he said excitedly.
"Down, boy," Scarface cautioned with a slight chuckle. "Remember what happened with the last new nurse you tried to harass?"
"How was I supposed to know she had a tazer? She wasn't even supposed to have one in the first place!"
"This one does not look like the sort to have a weapon concealed on her," Cobblepot said, observing her through his eye monocle. Of course, his observation only made the Joker even more excited.
"Aaaw, poor thing," he pouted. "Nothing to defend herself with against the big bad Clown Prince of Crime." He stood up from the table and felt the air leave his lungs when a force encircled his abdomen. He looked down to see Chelsea's arms wrapped around him tightly like a boa constrictor.
"What if she does have a weapon on her? What if she hurts you – or worse! What if she messes up your amazing coat?"
The Joker patted her awkwardly on the head. "I'm touched by your concern but harassing a new Arkham employee is my job. It's my little way of welcoming them. It’s practically their right-of-passage around here."
He pried the girl's arms off and stumbled away. Quickly regaining his balance, he stood tall and ordered, "Croc, hold her back! If she tries to escape –,"
"Hit her with a rock?" Croc asked hopefully.
The Joker sighed and nodded. "Yes, but let it be a small rock-ah,” he enunciated carefully. “We don't want a mess like last time." He blew Chelsea a teasing kiss and skipped his way over to the young woman leaning against the wall.
He came at her from an angle so that she wouldn’t see him right off. Her eyes were focused on something to her right. Easing over until he was so close their shoulder’s almost touched, he leaned on the wall right beside her and cleared his throat. "A-hem. Sooo, you're the newbie, eh?" he said loud enough to get her attention.
The nurse flinched at the suddenness of a voice so close by and turned to face him. She drew in a breath, eyes widening. “Oh crap,” she murmured, frozen in place.
The Joker glanced down at her name tag first – Amber – then looked up to meet her eyes. A giant grin spread along his scarred mouth when he noted the color.
Green! Such a pretty shade too!
He was so close to her face he could see the fine details. They were a cross between forest and viridian green with a starburst of copper around the irises.
He let out a high-pitched laugh. "Hi there, Amber! Welcome to the Mad House! We're gonna have so much fun with you!"
His laugh shook her from her immobility. "Oh, heck no," Amber said firmly and backed away from the laughing maniac. Her first day on the job and she was already being the victim of the Joker’s unwanted attention.
"Oooh, do I detect a little bit of nervousness from you?"
"Back off!" she ordered with more bravado than she felt.
"Or what?" he challenged, licking his lips and tilting his head to the side.
"Or I'll, uh, I'll – I'll tazer you!"
The Joker hesitated for a moment only and glanced at her hands. She wasn't reaching for a concealed weapon, so that was a good indication that she had no such thing on her person.
He gave her a wicked grin. "Liar, liar, pants on fire," he sang.
Amber bit her bottom lip. Crap! What do I do now?
"Are those colored lenses?"
Amber's panicking thoughts were interrupted. She wrinkled her brow at the question. "Huh?"
The Joker tapped the corner of his eye as he took a step closer to her and she took a step back. "Are your eyes really that color or are they colored lenses-zah?" he asked, still grinning. He took another step towards her, and she retreated once more.
"Why do you want to know?"
He shrugged; hands spread in a harmless gesture that Amber didn’t buy for a second. "I'm a curious guy."
Glancing over her shoulder, his grin widened to reveal his slightly yellow but perfectly straight teeth. "You might want to stop backing up," he suggested.
"Nah, I’m good with keeping awa – aaah!"
Amber stepped on spilt ice cubes and went tumbling backwards. She bumped into a trashcan, the motion sent her legs up into the air, and she fell into the can.
Laughter erupted throughout the entire cafeteria at the sight of Amber's legs sticking out of the container. She began to kick her limbs around, hoping to tip the can over so she could wiggle out and get the darn thing off of her.
"You're in big trouble, mister!" she shouted.
“Oh, no. What ever shall I do,” the Joker monotoned, lifting a limp hand to his forehead in a woe-is-me gesture.
Amber succeeded in tipping over, but someone decided it would be funny to roll the new nurse in the trashcan across the cafeteria floor, out of the room and release her to continue rolling down the hall. She made no effort to withhold her screams as she spun round and round within the container.
She came to a sudden halt when the vessel rammed into the wall at the end of the corridor. Easing out on her hands and knees, she slowly backed out and paused when her view was no longer obstructed by the garbage bin and a pair of legs came into sight.
Dr. Arkham stood frozen in place, clipboard in hand and in mid-scan of his notes. He’d been interrupted by the sight of the black trashcan rolling down the hall with two legs spinning around inside as screams poured out of it. His expression was one of shock and confusion.
Amber slowly eased the rest of the way out of the can and sat on the back of her calves without taking her eyes off him. She gave him a curt nod, which caused a large salad leaf to fall from her head.
"Dr. Arkham," she acknowledged.
He tilted his head back. "Nurse Johnson… I see you found your way to the cafeteria."
Amber flicked a slice of tomato off her shoulder. "Yes indeed."
The day wasn’t even halfway through yet. It was only just the beginning.