When Its Art (Joker)

[patience]

A flickering light met her as she passed. Possibly a weak light bulb, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She could not believe she was signed up for this, but she agreed to it. When she left New York she knew that Lone had set her up at GDP because he wanted her to keep up with this 'stopping evil doers' thing. Patience was away from that now, but she had been asked to use art therapy with Gotham's mad man, the artistic serial killer; The Joker. In blakc leather pants, a nice white shirt and heals, she held a bag of supplies as she walked that very long dark hall towards that very dark destination.

Making her way passed cells, some of the noises remained in her head. Maybe forever but some of the screams that raged in her mind would probably not leave. She looked at the doors and knew that the horror behind that door is nothing she would like to endure. But then she got to her stop, where she knew that what she saw would not be a nice thing. Guards were down the hall, she was safe. Not to mention that she is...... was....... a super powered cat burglar. She could kick his ass, not that she would. But as a guard apporached and unlocked the door she took a breath and walked into the room.

"Um, Joker. Mr Joker, I am Patience Phillips. How are you today". The darkness of the room was blinding and barely any light came from the source. The door closed behind her and turned, she wipped her fringe out of her face as she crossed her arms. She did art. She did psychology. She did not think she was ready for this at all. She had heard of him. No conscience. Completely wacko. And Patience was standing within shooting distance of him and had to bite her lip in order to keep her kitty cool.

[missj]

Sitting in the darkest of corners in the cell was the man whom everyone seemed to want to visit as of late. Normally, the Joker was a social character, but this was just getting annoying. None of them had been the Batman. That guy had a lot of nerve to lock him up in here and not even come by to say hello...

Drifting out of his reverie, the Joker focused on the woman standing in front of him. She was supposed to be here to 'cure' him, and after his past two 'visits' the guards had decided to shackle his ankles to the wall behind him when there was someone else in his cage so that he wouldn't be as tempted to cause trouble. Silly guards. Did they really thing straight jackets and shackles could hold the Joker?

He studied the woman in the dim lighting, his blood red smile seeming to glow from the corner he was held in. "That's Captain Joker, thank you." He smirked dangerously before chewing on her question. Such an open question. So many answers. "I'm a little tied up." He jingled his ankle shackles to get his point and displeasure across.

His tone was bored and lacked the typical jovial demeanor he carried. He didn't like being chained up, especially when it was just because some misguided woman wanted to see him. "What can I do for you doc? I'm assuming you're here because you can cure the infamous Joker? Accomplish what everyone else has failed to do? Or are you secretly madly in love with me?" He batted his eyes affectionately as he leaned forward towards her, though not nearly as closely as he would have preferred.

[patience]

He's the guy with the clown face that caused alot of crimes. That advice she recieved from the detective didn't do him justice. As she saw him in the corner, shakles binding his hands and feet to the wall as he gave her a look. She had seen the look of his eyes from art. The art which represents emptiness and absense of good, darkness hidden within white skin and a blood red smile. She wanted to turn and walk out, try to pull the image from her mind. But she was to help him, even though she didn't like the chances of actually getting through to him.

His response was humourous; go figure. Though it didn't make her laugh, it made her dread. She took a few slow steps forwards, keeping her confidence up in her form as she looked down at him, her arms still folded across her chest. When he punned again refering to the shackles, she sighed. "But we both know why you got like that, don't we. When we don't play well with others, you get the muzzel". She then saw a chair and then moved over and dragged it over so she could sit near him, just not to close. Not one part of her trusted him, not one part of her doubted his capabilities. Though she did not doubt her own skill, no matter how much normalcy she tried to bury it under.

He guessed why she was their, unfortunately still trying to be a wise guy. Patience shrugged, shaking her head as she put her bag on the ground and then looked to him. "Joker, your making me blush. What I am here to do is to help, not cure. By what I have seen, curing the beast is never efficient. Once an animal, always an animal. I am an open ear, here to talk and maybe we can get somewhere". She smiled at him, even though she was trying to cage the cat inside. She wanted to beat the crap out of him, she knew what he had done and what kind of man he was. "How about we start with your name. I know they didn't write a playing card name onto a birth certificate did they?"

[missj]

It took everything the Joker had not to roll his eyes at her. Really? This old game? The 'what's your real name' game? Had she not read any of his files? He had heard some ridiculous amount of repetitive questions over the past few days, but this was just ludicrous.

Instead, he decided to answer each question in chronological order. "Well, if they had muzzled me this conversation would be an impossible bigger waste of our time, wouldn't it? Besides, he started it." By he, the Joker was of course referring to Nightwing. He had thrown the first punch.

"Croc is an animal. Catwoman is... well, kind of an animal. I am not an animal. I am the Clown Prince of Crime. Don't forget it. I am my own class, my dear." His grin grew dangerously wider as he bared his razor sharp teeth.

It was only then that he decided to acknowledge her real question. "I wasn't born, Patience. I just existed." He laughed at his comment. "I'm afraid mommy was poor and had an in home birth. No birth certificates there. Or... no... wait, that's not it." He fixed a perplexed grin on his face as he lost himself in 'thought'. "No, daddy was an arsonist. He burned down the hospital I was born in . Quite tragic. Mommy died... or... well, maybe that isn't it... no, I don't like that story."

He looked at the woman sitting in front of him with a blank look. "I prefer my past to be multiple choice. Don't you?" Joker tilted his head to one side like a confused puppy dog before pressing onward. "I go by many names. Joe Kerr, Jack White, Jack Napier, but my name is Joker. Need me to spell that for you?" His smile never faltered. She wasn't going to get to the mad man. Not that easily.

[patience]

it was as if life was just a game to him. That he can say and do what he wants except their being no game over and no redos. Patience didn't have to have a psyche degree to see that decades of work could not fully repair the mind. Especially this kind of reality his mind seemed to be set in where consequence meant nothing. Crazy did not even cover it. Towards his first remark, she knew it was just to get under her skin. She knew that some kind of vigilante stopped him, apparently Gotham has its amount of vigilante activity and Patience didn't know if she should be happy or intimidated by that. "The blame game huh? Really Joker, what did you expect Nightwing to do?". She wasn't sure if her words would make him reach some kind of guilt to what he had done or some realizing of the concepts of right and wrong, but it was worth a shot.

Catwoman? When she heard the words, it startled her. She found it hard to listen to the rest. Either the story of their being a woman dressed in a cat costume from New York reached Gotham and lasted seven years or their was another. Ophelia did say that their were more, from the past and probably more in the future and she didn't like it. She remembered when she became a catwoman, the simple desire to do and get what she wanted. Guess that is kind of like what Joker thinks. But curiosity didn't kill this cat. "Wait, Catwoman?". She pondered for a second before speaking. "What about this Catwoman?".

The knowledge still itched at her, but she had to do something. He believed that his past is what he wants, some kind of narrative or imaginary thought he had that he just stuck with. Either it was really what he thought or he was trying to piss her off. It was really, really working. "No, I don't think that. I know my past, I take the ups and downs and the bad things that happened but I do not believe that. So, Jack Napier that sounds better". Getting out a picture she held it up for him to look at. "Jack, what do you think when you see this picture?".

[missj]

He liked this woman’s spunk and tenacity. Joker had to admit, she had balls. Metaphorically speaking, of course. He would have fun breaking down her mind and teaching her that playing with a Joker in the deck is never a good idea. When she came back with her comment about Nightwing, he let a crooked grin play at his lips. “See, I expected the little birdie to sit there like a good vigilante and just listen to the mad man wail on and on! But, he’s not a real vigilante. Instead, I proved he’s just a wannabe in a lame costume… heheh.” His eyes lit up as his laugh reverberated off the walls musically.

Joker studied her facial expressions, noting how her interest piqued when he mentioned Catwoman. Storing this information away, the Joker pressed on; blatantly ignoring her question about the feline femme fatale. He would have fun tormenting her with that later. Much later.

As she went back to his past, he merely shrugged his shoulders in an unenthused motion. “Whatever floats your boat, doc. This is a free country after all! I am entitled to as many pasts as I would like.” His smile took its normal form before he continued on his small tangent. “I mean, who’s to say that the past you remember isn’t one you’ve made up? You can’t tell me that you don’t remember things differently from your parents who experienced the same things with you. Everyone makes up their own past in one way or another, doc. I just prefer to indulge myself, heheh.”

Switching gears, he looked at the picture. As she called him Jack, his ears perked up and he glanced at her for only a moment. “Alright, since we’re going to call each other made up names, I’ll call you Penelope.” He looked back at the picture before giggling. “I see an artist who used too much water and not enough color! Hahahahahaa….” He rocked back and forth gleefully, laughing the entire time.

"Tell me, Penelope, what do you intend to accomplish here? It seems to me that you're wasting your time. Don't get me wrong, I'm entertained to say the least, but I think you have better things to do that entertain the mad man. So, let's just cut to the chase, shall we?" The Joker in no way believed this woman would be perturbed so easily, he just wanted to go further out of his way to get under her skin.