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Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?	By : JustMeAgain Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Batman (All Movies) > Batman (All Movies) Views: 1631 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from DC comics, the Batman franchise (comics or Nolan-verse), I don't own The Crow or any of the songs mentioned in this story. The only tihing I own is the original character. I make no money from any of this.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
~~~~~ 2009 ~~~~~
As I’d moved boxes I realized how much more planning I had to do. What was the point of breaking Jack out of Arkham if I just cooped him up in a spare bedroom? My first objective was to get him to hell out of Arkham, but I wanted to plan him a welcome home party to rival our Friday the thirteenth weekend of 1994. I was infused with an excitement I hadn’t felt since I was a teenager. Jack may not remember me, but he would. I would make sure of it.
I was already coming up with ideas when the doorbell rang. I froze in place as I was shoving the last box into the dining room. No one knew where I lived. I’d not made one friend since moving back to Gotham, and no one had ever been in my home. What if someone from Arkham or Blackgate had figured me out? If the cops showed up now I’d fail. I wouldn’t let that happen. I dug in my purse for the stun gun my parents had sent me as a moving gift. I’d never used it, but I would if I had to. I peeked out the window beside the door and puffed out a sigh of relief. It was a delivery man. I still held onto the stun gun, but I relaxed. If it had been a cop I would’ve stunned him, but I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do after he was down.
I opened the door and accepted the package after signing for it. It was from my parents in Metropolis. I groaned at my own ignorance. Of course. If it was two days until Devil’s Night it was October twenty-eighth. My birthday. I’d been so caught up in the past and in Jack it had slipped my mind. I dumped the stun gun back into my purse and stared down at the box. Who the hell wanted to be thirty-two anyhow? You were expected to be married, have babies... I grimaced at the thought.
I hadn’t seen my parents face to face in years. We’d had dinner once when I was living in Paris. They’d been touring the continent for their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Even then I’d been contemplating a move back to Gotham, and we’d argued about it. After all that had happened in 1994 my parents had whisked me out of Gotham and pretended it had never happened. I’d had exactly one phone call from them since I’d moved back, and that had been to make sure I’d received the stun gun they’d sent me. It was like talking to strangers.
I took the box with me to the kitchen and used a knife to slice through the packaging. Cradled inside yards of bubble wrap was possibly the world’s ugliest crystal vase. It was easily a foot and a half tall and streaked through with a golden yellow color. I had no doubts it had set them back a thousand dollars or more. I rolled my eyes and stuffed it back in the box. I’d deal with the monstrosity later. For now I had a lot of big plans flitting around in my head, and just thinking about them wouldn’t make them happen. I grabbed my car keys, intent on putting things in motion. "Happy birthday to me." I chuckled as I headed out the door.
**********
The Joker sat shackled to the same metal table he’d been chained to yesterday... or was it the day before? He couldn’t really keep track of time anymore. The EST treatments kind of shook up his memory like a cup of Yahtzee dice. More memories of Scarlet were flooding in, though, and he was able to hold onto them. Almost all of his mental images of her were sexual in nature. In recent years he hadn’t been above getting a quick blow job, but sex just wasn’t as exciting as knives, guns and gasoline.
Dr. Winthrop sat across from him shuffling through a stack of papers in a manilla folder. The doctor’s white hair was slicked mercilessly against his skull, and he reeked of old age and expensive cologne that smelled cheap. The Joker’s nose twitched. He ignored it and continued staring straight ahead. "I see you’ve been voluntarily eating." Dr. Winthrop finally spoke without looking up from the papers. The Joker looked down to his own chest.
"What? Did I get gravy on me again?" This prompted the doctor to look up and even crack a wry smile.
"Why the change? Six months of rebellion and you simply give in? I don’t buy it."
"Weren’t you the one who said change is good for the soul?" The Joker wet his scarred lips and leaned back in his seat. Eating had reduced the lethargy the medications caused. "I thought I was here to change my ways, to grow into a useful member of society." He drew out the word society and used his tethered hands to mimic a flower blossoming. A smirk played along his mangled lips as he realized his movements had drawn the doctor’s attention. That was a useful tidbit of knowledge.
"Arkham is not a rehabilitative hospital. Surely you don’t expect to leave here. I would be remiss in my duties to let you think that." Winthrop’s teeth gleamed like a rabid sewer rat’s. the man delighted in his position of power just as the Joker’s father had. It rankled, but he’d never let the doctor see that. Besides, his tenure as lord and master over Arkham’s unfortunates was coming to an end. Winthrop took his silence as confusion. "Arkham’s main mission is to protect the citizens of Gotham from madmen like you. It may not be the politically correct position these days, but it’s the truth. People like you don’t change. You can see why your attempts at cooperation are so upsetting to me, can’t you?"
"You’re upset?" The Joker raised his brows. "You aren’t the one chained to a table and wearing a jumpsuit that rides up in all the wrong places." He leveled Dr. Winthrop with a bored look.
"That’s my point. For six months you’ve endured ill fitting jumpsuits and shackles. What’s making it all so intolerable now?" The doctor was genuinely curious, much to the Joker’s delight. He sucked at his scars again and grinned.
"Wouldn’t you like to know." He goaded. Winthrop’s polar blue eyes lit up.
"I think I do know." He said with a superior smirk. "I think it has to do with your unauthorized visitor... Dr. Rebecca Duncan. By the way, don’t expect to see her ever again. We’ve fired the man responsible for letting her in and instructed the staff to be on the look out for her." The Joker could see the glee the doctor derived from delivering this news.
"Name doesn’t ring a bell, Doc." He yawned. It might have tickled his gray matter a little, but not enough to matter. "As a matter of fact, I don’t remember any visitors."
"We’ll find her. Don’t you worry about that." Winthrop stood, gathering his papers into the file. He hit the red button to summon the orderlies. "We’re also going to cut the EST treatments for awhile. You’re clearly agitated. You need a few days of rest in your cell." He flashed that feral smile again.
**********
I hadn’t spent much time at the library, but I had found all the additional information I was looking for. I had a whole new stack of maps and blueprints to add to my earlier research. I used one of the maps to lead me to a storage facility in Kattering. I used my fake ID and paid cash for a small shed. Next I went to one of those mega-sized do it yourself stores. I bought everything I’d need for my surprise for Jack. I also picked up room darkening mini-blinds for every window in the house, the tools I’d need to install them, a book on how to install them, a couple cans of paint and the equipment I’d need to use it. I added in a bunch of ordinary items like light bulbs, duct tape and furnace filters just to distract from the suspect items.
Four of the suspect items were the large five gallon gasoline containers. I filled them up at four different gas stations before stashing them at the storage shelter. I left the other items I’d bought for my Devil’s Night plans with the gasoline, and headed back to the house using a circuitous route. I was probably being overly cautious, but I was okay with that. I did not want to fail Jack. Unbidden, tears came to my eyes when I thought of him locked up like a lab rat in the stinking hole that was Arkham. I blinked them away and concentrated instead on my plans for the rest of the evening. Step one: paint the bedroom. After that I could install the mini-blinds. In the morning I would have to go to the bank to withdraw the large sum of money I was using to fund this operation. I still had shopping to do, too. The bedroom needed furniture, the house needed food and Jack would have some necessities.
Back at the house I quickly taught myself how to use the paint sprayer to coat the walls of the bedroom in purple and green shades that matched my teenaged bedroom exactly. It was quick drying paint, so I got busy installing the mini-blinds. I read over the instructions and started with the living room windows. Luckily the windows were all a standard size the blinds would fit into. It still took me the better part of six hours to cover every window in the house, including the ones in the newly painted bedroom. With every window I securely shuttered I became more excited. Soon everything would be in place.
It was past midnight when I finally finished. I ate a late dinner I’d nuked in the microwave. I barely touched the chicken fettuccine as I looked over the blueprints I’d printed out earlier. My brain was too busy combing through all the plans I’d made. It occurred to me that Jack had never really planned anything we did. That night in Gotham had been loosely framed: see The Crow, grab a slice and break into Arkham. All the best parts had been totally unscripted. I’d never met anyone else who could seize an opportunity like Jack Napier.
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- 17
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Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?