First Session
folder
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Batman (All Movies)
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,442
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Batman (All Movies)
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,442
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
First Session
Title: First Session
Author: RockabillySaint
Pairing: slight Joker/Crane if you want to see it
Warning: light slash
Summary: Crane couldn’t wait to pick the Joker’s brain apart.
Note: This popped in to my head a while ago. I have a theory that Joker was holed up in Arkham and escaped at the end of Batman Begins. So this is when he was under the good doctor Crane’s care. Enjoy :)
________________________________________________________________
Jonathan Crane took his time as he sauntered down the many hallways of Arkham, a suitcase in hand and a patient filed tucked neatly under his arm. He could hear screaming and sobbing and hands slamming against unyielding doors as he passed.
A grin slowly turned the corners of his mouth.
Most of these pathetic miscreants had succumbed to his fear toxin, giving him marvelous results. Nothing like the mentally unstable to experiment a mind-altering substance on. So many interesting reactions, all giving him insight into not only what makes a man afraid, but of what drives him insane. Years of playing it safe could never produce such precise results. If only the board saw it his way.
Suddenly the doctor stopped and turned on heel. He looked at the door, imagined the main waiting inside. No name, no criminal record. No one knew where he came from. A resident of Arkham for years, he had killed countless inmates and drove innumerable psychiatrists over the edge. Crane smirked and peered through the glass - he really did love a challenge.
With a quick glance Crane had the guards stumbling over, their hands shaking and eyes darting. They were afraid of this one, really afraid. Crane’s heart beat faster with anticipation.
“Open it.” One of the men complied, a hand reaching out and placing the key in the lock. With a flick it clicked open, the guards falling back. Crane sneered at their cowardice and swung open the door, confident that the madman inside wasn’t going to instigate an assault.
Just like Crane thought - the patient hadn’t moved, just sat placidly across a plain table, giggling quietly to himself. Crane straightened out his jacket and flipped open the file, gazing over previous psychiatric reports, physical exams, crimes perpetrated. A few pictures were paper-clipped to the edges of victim testimonies, showing the man clad in purple, his face plastered with white and red makeup, his hair dripping green.
Adjusting his glasses Crane regarded the man before him, all finesse gone in lieu of an orange Arkham uniform, his hair a mass of dirty blonde curls, angry scars like caverns on either side of his mouth. He looked almost frail, but Crane knew better than to judge a book by its cover.
“So, I hear you liked to be called Joker.” The man laughed louder, his head swiveling on his shoulders to stare at Dr. Crane. “And what should I call you?” Despite himself Crane found himself wanting to pull back - the Joker’s dark gaze seemed to pin him, making him feel small. It had been years since someone was able to do that.
“I’m Dr. Jonathan Crane. I’m your knew psychiatrist.” The Joker tsked. “No headless horseman here Crane. Except maybe you.” Joker’s maniacal guffaws echoed in the small cell, an eruption of sound that put the doctor momentarily on edge. “Threats won’t work on me Joker.” Immediately the laughter ceased. “Threats are all I have.” His smile said otherwise.
Steeling himself Crane stepped closer and took a seat, the file held in front of him like a shield. He had dealt with countless forms of insanity and faced them all down without hardly batting an eye. But this Joker, this madman was something entirely different. Crane had the distinct impression that this was a new kind of mental illness, an uncharted sea of insanity that could swallow a man whole. He couldn’t wait to pick the Joker’s brain apart.
“Enough small talk. What do you say we get down to business?”
“Yes, let’s.” Joker licked his lips, and Crane found himself following that deft tongue, unable to pull his gaze away. Suddenly Joker stood, stepping around the table and closing the distance between them. Crane kept his place as the Joker’s face loomed only a breath away from his own.
“See something you like . . . doctor?” Crane had the feeling that lying to this man would cause more problems than it would solve, so he simply nodded. A gnarled hand patted the side of Crane’s face. “You’re honest. How refreshing.”
“Step back Joker.” The command sounded hollow to Crane’s own ears, but surprisingly Joker obeyed, his eyes glittering like obsidian as he took his previous place from across the table.
Crane narrowed his eyes at the madman. Joker was obviously trying to aggravate him, getting Crane to chase his own tail with taunts and insults. He wasn’t about to let this wannabe circus freak get the better of him.
Now was a good a time as any for a few . . . experiments.
Crane rose, sliding his briefcase over before snapping it open. “You seem to like masks Joker,” he began, pulling out his Scarecrow mask. “Would you like to see mine?” The doctor didn’t wait for an answer and switched on the voice manipulator, placing the mask over his head before spraying the aerosol fear toxin in Joker’s direction. He waited for the inevitable shock to overcome the madman. Crane couldn’t wait to savor the fear and helplessness that would wash over the Joker’s face as his worst nightmares came to life.
Joker sat placidly, sniffing. “What is this supposed to be? Air freshner?” He cackled and leaned forward. “Cute mask by the way.” Crane was at a loss for words. The toxin had no effect on him whatsoever! What kind of creature could withstand such a thing?
Overcome with anger Crane removed the mask and placed it back in the suitcase, his hands shaking.
“Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan,” chided Joker, shaking his head. “If you want to instill fear, don’t do it with chemicals and a burlap sack. Do it the old fashioned way with pain and death.” A slow smile overtook his face, stretching the scars.
The chair scraped against the ground as Joker once again leapt from his seat, grabbing Crane by the neck and slamming him against the wall. Crane gasped as the air was knocked from him, his heart pounding in his head. He fully expected Joker to kill him, and could do nothing but claw at the steely arms that pinned him.
Joker leaned in close, his lips brushing Crane’s ear as he spoke.“I was wrong about you. You’re not headless, just brainless.” He laughed softly, almost a purr.
Crane tried again to dislodge the man’s hands from his throat, only causing Joker to laugh harder and tighten his grip. “But I like you anyway. You have potential.” He snickered and released Crane, the doctor hacking and grabbing his throat as he slumped to the ground. Tears came to his eyes, and he glowered up at the madman. Joker grinned and walked back to the table, sitting casually at the end before the guards came barreling in, nightsticks drawn.
Crane held out a hand for them to stop, pausing them at the threshold. The whole time he never took his eyes from the Joker, silently promising the madman that this wasn’t the last time they’d meet.
Joker smiled back. “Until next time . . . doctor Crane.”
Author: RockabillySaint
Pairing: slight Joker/Crane if you want to see it
Warning: light slash
Summary: Crane couldn’t wait to pick the Joker’s brain apart.
Note: This popped in to my head a while ago. I have a theory that Joker was holed up in Arkham and escaped at the end of Batman Begins. So this is when he was under the good doctor Crane’s care. Enjoy :)
________________________________________________________________
Jonathan Crane took his time as he sauntered down the many hallways of Arkham, a suitcase in hand and a patient filed tucked neatly under his arm. He could hear screaming and sobbing and hands slamming against unyielding doors as he passed.
A grin slowly turned the corners of his mouth.
Most of these pathetic miscreants had succumbed to his fear toxin, giving him marvelous results. Nothing like the mentally unstable to experiment a mind-altering substance on. So many interesting reactions, all giving him insight into not only what makes a man afraid, but of what drives him insane. Years of playing it safe could never produce such precise results. If only the board saw it his way.
Suddenly the doctor stopped and turned on heel. He looked at the door, imagined the main waiting inside. No name, no criminal record. No one knew where he came from. A resident of Arkham for years, he had killed countless inmates and drove innumerable psychiatrists over the edge. Crane smirked and peered through the glass - he really did love a challenge.
With a quick glance Crane had the guards stumbling over, their hands shaking and eyes darting. They were afraid of this one, really afraid. Crane’s heart beat faster with anticipation.
“Open it.” One of the men complied, a hand reaching out and placing the key in the lock. With a flick it clicked open, the guards falling back. Crane sneered at their cowardice and swung open the door, confident that the madman inside wasn’t going to instigate an assault.
Just like Crane thought - the patient hadn’t moved, just sat placidly across a plain table, giggling quietly to himself. Crane straightened out his jacket and flipped open the file, gazing over previous psychiatric reports, physical exams, crimes perpetrated. A few pictures were paper-clipped to the edges of victim testimonies, showing the man clad in purple, his face plastered with white and red makeup, his hair dripping green.
Adjusting his glasses Crane regarded the man before him, all finesse gone in lieu of an orange Arkham uniform, his hair a mass of dirty blonde curls, angry scars like caverns on either side of his mouth. He looked almost frail, but Crane knew better than to judge a book by its cover.
“So, I hear you liked to be called Joker.” The man laughed louder, his head swiveling on his shoulders to stare at Dr. Crane. “And what should I call you?” Despite himself Crane found himself wanting to pull back - the Joker’s dark gaze seemed to pin him, making him feel small. It had been years since someone was able to do that.
“I’m Dr. Jonathan Crane. I’m your knew psychiatrist.” The Joker tsked. “No headless horseman here Crane. Except maybe you.” Joker’s maniacal guffaws echoed in the small cell, an eruption of sound that put the doctor momentarily on edge. “Threats won’t work on me Joker.” Immediately the laughter ceased. “Threats are all I have.” His smile said otherwise.
Steeling himself Crane stepped closer and took a seat, the file held in front of him like a shield. He had dealt with countless forms of insanity and faced them all down without hardly batting an eye. But this Joker, this madman was something entirely different. Crane had the distinct impression that this was a new kind of mental illness, an uncharted sea of insanity that could swallow a man whole. He couldn’t wait to pick the Joker’s brain apart.
“Enough small talk. What do you say we get down to business?”
“Yes, let’s.” Joker licked his lips, and Crane found himself following that deft tongue, unable to pull his gaze away. Suddenly Joker stood, stepping around the table and closing the distance between them. Crane kept his place as the Joker’s face loomed only a breath away from his own.
“See something you like . . . doctor?” Crane had the feeling that lying to this man would cause more problems than it would solve, so he simply nodded. A gnarled hand patted the side of Crane’s face. “You’re honest. How refreshing.”
“Step back Joker.” The command sounded hollow to Crane’s own ears, but surprisingly Joker obeyed, his eyes glittering like obsidian as he took his previous place from across the table.
Crane narrowed his eyes at the madman. Joker was obviously trying to aggravate him, getting Crane to chase his own tail with taunts and insults. He wasn’t about to let this wannabe circus freak get the better of him.
Now was a good a time as any for a few . . . experiments.
Crane rose, sliding his briefcase over before snapping it open. “You seem to like masks Joker,” he began, pulling out his Scarecrow mask. “Would you like to see mine?” The doctor didn’t wait for an answer and switched on the voice manipulator, placing the mask over his head before spraying the aerosol fear toxin in Joker’s direction. He waited for the inevitable shock to overcome the madman. Crane couldn’t wait to savor the fear and helplessness that would wash over the Joker’s face as his worst nightmares came to life.
Joker sat placidly, sniffing. “What is this supposed to be? Air freshner?” He cackled and leaned forward. “Cute mask by the way.” Crane was at a loss for words. The toxin had no effect on him whatsoever! What kind of creature could withstand such a thing?
Overcome with anger Crane removed the mask and placed it back in the suitcase, his hands shaking.
“Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan,” chided Joker, shaking his head. “If you want to instill fear, don’t do it with chemicals and a burlap sack. Do it the old fashioned way with pain and death.” A slow smile overtook his face, stretching the scars.
The chair scraped against the ground as Joker once again leapt from his seat, grabbing Crane by the neck and slamming him against the wall. Crane gasped as the air was knocked from him, his heart pounding in his head. He fully expected Joker to kill him, and could do nothing but claw at the steely arms that pinned him.
Joker leaned in close, his lips brushing Crane’s ear as he spoke.“I was wrong about you. You’re not headless, just brainless.” He laughed softly, almost a purr.
Crane tried again to dislodge the man’s hands from his throat, only causing Joker to laugh harder and tighten his grip. “But I like you anyway. You have potential.” He snickered and released Crane, the doctor hacking and grabbing his throat as he slumped to the ground. Tears came to his eyes, and he glowered up at the madman. Joker grinned and walked back to the table, sitting casually at the end before the guards came barreling in, nightsticks drawn.
Crane held out a hand for them to stop, pausing them at the threshold. The whole time he never took his eyes from the Joker, silently promising the madman that this wasn’t the last time they’d meet.
Joker smiled back. “Until next time . . . doctor Crane.”