The Right Hand Of The Devil, Part 2

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The Right Hand Of The Devil, part 2 of 3
By Melanie E.
Image found on a message board somewhere, copyright whoever made it.

Harold Quinzel has a long-held fascination with the criminally insane, and his job at Arkham Asylum has given him plenty of opportunities to indulge.

On this fateful night, however, a new arrival brings about an unexpected twist that will change Harold's life forever.

NOTE: THIS STORY IS FANFIC. ALL CHARACTERS WHO ARE OBVIOUSLY BORROWED FROM COMICS ARE TRADEMARKS OF SAID COMPANIES AND USED HERE WITHOUT PERMISSION. IN ADDITION, THIS STORY IS NON-CANON FOR THE COMICS RETCON UNIVERSE. NO CONNECTION WITH ANY OTHER WRITER'S WORK IS MEANT TO BE IMPLIED OR ASSUMED. THANK YOU.

Part 2

The dull throbbing of my head told me I was finally coming out of the black dream I had been having, and with a moan of pain I rolled over, hoping that whatever bender I had been on last night's visions would fade faster than the hangover I was suffering.

"Ah, good, you seem to be awake. The police tend to frown upon it when I present them with hostages who are already dead."

"Wha?" I started to ask, when it sunk in. Going to work, and meeting that intensely insane man... "Mistah J?"

"At last sleeping beauty rises from the slumber of the damned to join me once more. I would appreciate you not fainting again, we will move much quicker if you can keep the pace on your own."

I opened my eyes, and there he was, standing over me, his long, unkempt hair falling around his face and obscuring his features, but not those eyes. No, never those eyes.

"Where are we?"

"A drainage ditch just beyond the Asylum's walls," he said with a manic grin. "An old acquaintance of mine told me about the way out, and I needed to see for myself that it truly worked, in case they should ever catch me and leave me in need of an escape."

"But isn't that what happened?"

"Ah, now you see the clever ruse," he said, tapping the side of his nose. "I let them catch me on PURPOSE to make sure the path was there."

"And if it wasn't?"

"Then I would have simply killed everyone and been done with it. Though I must say, this way is MUCH more fun!" He clapped his hands merrily as he stood up, and for the first time I got to see my captor in all his glory.

Like his face, his body was long, and thin to the point of emaciation, while still somehow carrying an underlying sense of muscular power. Gone was his peacoat, leaving him standing there in rolled up shirt sleeves, suspenders holding up his muddy pinstriped pants.

"Well, are you going to lay there all day, or are you coming along? We're on the run, and we must make way before the police catch us."

I shook my head, amazed at his pure energy. "I thought I was a hostage?"

His eyes flashed in the dark. "Oh, you are, my little buffoon. But a good hostage knows when to fight their captor, and when to grap a gun and shoot like they're told. Which one seems the better idea to you?" He asked, pulling a long, thin blade out from seemingly nowhere.

Without another word I stood up, and together we began to trudge through the mud.

It was only a few minutes later that the road out from the Asylum loomed out of the darkness, and I knew that his plan was set for failure. "You can't make it out on the road, they'll already have the police out looking for you."

"Oh, I've no doubt about that. That's what makes it so fun! Ah, here they come now."

And, surely, around the curb ahead of us came a cop car, lights flashing but siren eerily silent.

'This is it,' I thought to myself as their headlights approached us, feeling both relieved and strangely regretful that my journey into madness should end so soon.

Rather than hiding, or running, like I would have expected, my companion simply stepped into the middle of the road and waved happily to the car as it approached, chuckling.

With a screech of brakes the car jerked to a stop mere feet before him, with the cops out an instant behind.

"Hands up! Keep your hands where we can see them!"

"Who, me?"

"Yeah, you," the other officer said as he approached carefully, his partner's gun trained on their suspect. Neither seemed to notice me, crouched beside the road and quiet, as they both kept their eyes on 'Mister J.'

"Get over here," he said once he was close enough to touch Mister J's arm, and dragged him to the hood of the police car. The search began, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over.

Then I saw a flash of metal, and the cop began to slump to the ground. The glare from the headlights in the dark was enough to tell me that the long blade I had seen before was now buried in his guts.

The second cop never stood a chance, frozen in place as his murderer skipped up and almost playfully snapped his neck, catching his pistol before his body hit the ground.

"Well, come on, then."

Whether out of fear or fascination, I'm still not sure, I left my hiding place and approached the car.

"Ladies first," he said, holding open the passenger side door to the cop car and gesturing me to sit.

"I'm not a girl," I pointed out, one last act of defiance in the case of his indomitable will.

"Ah, but you're my hostage, and the police always react better to a damsel in distress than they do some boy. Of course, we'll have to work on you fitting the part a bit, but we'll have it done soon enough. Oh, my little buffoon is soon to become a harlequin. Isn't this fun!"

I simply sat there in silence, too in awe to even bother crying for help, as we drove over the bodies of the dead policemen and into the night, toward the streets of Gotham.

----

Like a good little hostage I sat in silence for the first half an hour of our journey to wherever it was that this man was taking me.

The longer I sat, though, the more my curiousity built. As cruel and violent as I had seen him be, he still somehow drew me to him in a way I couldn't yet describe.

"Why?"

"Hmm?" He said, pausing in his repeated humming of "Ride of the Valkyries" to look at me. "Why what?"

I shrugged. "Why everything?"

He looked up at the roof for a moment, thoughtful. "Well, I have always loved a good joke."

I was appalled. "So this is all just a big joke to you?!"

He laughed. "The biggest and best! You don't get it?"

"No!"

His laugh turned sour as he grimaced at me. "By the time I'm done with you, I promise -- you will."

---

NOTES:

Alright, I'm not entirely happy with this part, and I'll probably come back and add to it/expand it at a later time, but I said I'd try to have all three parts up over three days, and this one's almost twelve hours late as is, so *shrug*

On the plus side, I know exactly what direction I'm going/where the last part is going to end, so that's good.

Melanie E.

PS: Oh, yeah, and because it seems to help... IF YOU COMMENT, MORE WILL COME!

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Comments

Insane

I can see why so many have mentioned Hannibal Lector. Rather than just be a crazy murderous clown, this Joker is more intense in his insanity to the point of genius. He definitely has that serial killer thing that Keith Ledgers portrayal had going. You have his voice down very well. Harold's is also very good as he's totally out of his depth here, but is still trying to do his job. Nice!
Hugs
Grover

What I was going for

Insanity is the name of the game with the Joker, but it's a very measured insanity. Just crazy enough to do what he pleases, but with the cold, hard, calculating genius that belies his seeming lack of care for his own safety.

The Joker knows just how far to push, and to where, to get what he wants from just about anyone he meets, and his sociopathy means he lacks any kind of reason not to push it just that far.

Chaos and anarchy, perhaps, but chaos and anarchy that he can predict, and control.

Melanie E.

YAY!!!

revolution's picture

Great addition! It seems you don't feel that it was up to standard. If i am wrong in this assumption I apologize, however I think this was a great addition.

Waiting for the Punchline!

only 3 parts?

Will I have to start picketing big closet to lobby for more than 3 parts? :)

I understand why only 3 parts...

laika's picture

The Joker probably isn't as much fun to write as he is to read about.
Creating evil characters can be exhausting, mucking around in their icky brains.
Still as a reader who is loving this disturbing story, I too wish it could be longer.

Maybe after a break and some fluffy unicorn stories Melanie will return to Harley and Mr. J...
Hope so. I love it when Harley interacts with Batman. She loathes him for picking on her fella,
and wants to blast him to smithereens; And while he fights her, Bruce mostly just pities her,
saddened by her sick codependance and the loss of who she had been.
~hugs, Veronica

The Right Hand Of The Devil, Part 2

Will be fun to see what happens.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

I think you did a good job

Daniela Wolfe's picture

I think you did a good job with the Joker. Again, I think it's much to short, but that's probably my own preferences rather than an actual need for more longevity.


DAW


Have delightfully devious day,

I'm commenting. Will more

I'm commenting. Will more come? :P

You said it seemed to help, after all. And the story is three months hanging, too.

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Good to see you back, Ras.

I loved your take on the Joker's personality. He did things because they were fun, not out of malice. Ok, maybe some malice. lol.

Maggie

In a way I never left :)

I keep BC open in a browser tab at all times, there just hasn't been a lot I've wanted to read lately. Plus, with not doing a lot of writing, and skype on my internet here being a Bad Idea... yeah.

Still, that'll all get fixed later this month, with any luck.

Melanie E.