The Escape

By Kabuki

Just to warn you, this is a piece I wrote for my pals in the Joker/Harley Quinn Fanclub so much Joker Glorification here. *contented smile* Pure slasher fic, and not the mushy kind, so enjoy!

Rating = R

DISCLAIMER: K, this story is just about out beloved Joker breaking out of Arkham. The comics don't so it anymore, and I wondered why. So, I crossed the comic code as much as I could without making this laughable (well, as can be expected, anyway) and stopped it once he has a clear path to freedom. This spec assumes the Joker's real name is Jack Napier. Don't like graphic violence and death. Tough luck, kiddies. Get a new idol.

"Can I? Yeah. You bet I can. There's a million things in this world I can't do. Couldn't hit a curveball, even back in high school. Can't fix a leaky faucet. Can't roller skate or make a F-chord on the guitar that sounds like anything but shit. I have tried twice to be married and couldn't do it either time. But if you want me to take you away, to scare you or involve you or make you cry or grin, yeah. I can. I can bring it to you and keep bringing it until you holler uncle. I am able. I can."

- Misery
Stephen King

The sound of the heavy rain against weathered stones provided a perfect white noise behind the Joker's thoughts. He smiled devilishly from within his cell as the medication crew made their rounds. He had been a prisoner now for three months, one of his longer stays. Generally the asylum could be such a fun place to relax, what with the screaming, sobbing, and wild peals of laughter ringing out in a steady stream. Lately, though a new form of drug was being administered to a few choice patients. Only the most violent and destitute were given the injection, but it was still enough to lower the volume of madness; and when it became quieter, he had time to think and to dream. He had awaken the past few nights soaked in sweat and moaning, barely escaping the clutches of some unremembered demon. He would rather stay awake and plan than sleep and succumb to the shards of a dim past, and so it was that he lay awake in the dead of night watching the two guards with administer hypodermic needles filled with lithium, tranquilizers, and other marvelous drugs.

He was more than a little agitated due to sleep deprivation. The Joker craved blood and long dances with his Batty father, and for that he would be forced out into the city to hunt suitable prey.

As the two orderlies distributing medication rounded the corner, the Joker backed away from his cell door obediently; his ghostly face a mask of calm. It was customary for him to be administered a tranquilizer around this time, and the ritual would prove the perfect escape route. The older guard, Roger Heins, seemed pleased at this display, though a bit frightened. The Joker was almost a supernatural presence in the old place, and any action should be treated as a threat. He tightened his grip on the tranquilizer gun and gave the rookie at his side a warning glance before smiling at the white-skinned captive. "Hey, you're learning! That's great, Mister Napier! Now just remember the rules and stay put, will ya?"

Joker cringed ever so slightly at his real name, but kept his cool and smiled amicably. "I am rather adept, Mister Heins, sir."

Roger frowned, the childish tone of Joker's voice setting off a multitude of alarms in his head. He looked again toward the rookie who was entering the cell to administer the proper dosage of tranquilizer. Joker was smiling slightly, his face calm and uncharacteristically kind, but something was wrong. The eyes. Joker's eyes were a brighter green than usual and flashing in the fluorescent light like some unearthly fire. The rookie was only a foot or so away, already leaning in to inject the proper dosage. Joker cocked his head to one side, baring his throat expectantly, while his entire body remained unnaturally calm. Roger could smell the tension in the air and took in a breath to tell the rookie to get out of there.

But it was already too late, for the thin clown's right leg suddenly shot out at his guard, catching the rookie's knee in a bone-shattering kick. The kid gasped in a breath of air to scream, but was silenced by a pillowcase being shoved roughly down his throat. The kid gagged, struggling with the taller man for escape and life. The Joker seemed to find this amusing and he giggled a bit as he removed his hands from the now tightly wedged pillowcase and, gripping the rookie's arms firmly, wrenched the arms from their sockets. The sound of tendons pulling apart and cartilage ripping was prevalent, the kid's eyes widened even more as he struggled with the cloth the constricted him. Joker released the man with a snicker, allowing the kid to fall clumsily to the floor as the kid breathed his last.

Roger was in shock, his few years of training forgotten. Joker was walking toward him, his eyes still flashing but his body language friendly. "What's za mattah, Mista Heins? Ya'll havin some kinda fit er somethin?"

Joker giggled madly at his bad southern accent then gripped Roger in a shockingly powerful fist hold, his bone white fingers squeezing the older man's throat. The clown prince grinned and held up his empty left hand. "Watch this. Nothing up my sleeve..."

He twisted his wrist as a stage magician would and magically the tranquilizer syringe appeared in his palm. Roger squirmed, frightened of the idea of being injected with such a large needle. Then his fear heightened as the Joker pressed the older man's back against the opposing block wall and aimed the needle for the left eye of the struggling guard. "Don't blink! You may miss something important!"

He moved swiftly then, jamming the long sharp point of the needle directly into the petrified guard's iris. Through muscle and ligament and eye fluid it passed until it could go no further. The man's body was quivering spasmodically as the Joker grimaced and pressed his thumb to the plunger, injecting the fluid. He had no idea what would happen, but death would be the inevitable outcome. "This is gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurts me. Though you have succeeded in leaking all over my hands. UGH! Whatta slob!"

Joker wiped his bloody hand on his Asylum-issue pants absently and released the guard, letting this trembling body drop with a sickening thump to the floor. He delivered a swift kick to the man's shoulder just for fun then got down to business. Leaning down he pulled a card key from the one-eyed corpse and eyed it curiously. "So, Jeremiah decided to give up keys and opt for credit cards? How delightful! I always prefer plastic to paper, or is that paper to plastic? But it's so much more fun suffocating in plastic, or at least fun to watch."

He casually made his way to the door, the alarms would go off in a few moments but he would be long gone by then. It was time to find dear, dim-witted Batman. "Yes, folks, the Joker has left the building! Now, let the games begin!"

END