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arthuronfleck · 5 years ago

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Will the Real Joker Please Stand Up? Part II: Imitation Game

((followup to this.))

warning(s): this chapter contains violence, so please don’t read if you’re sensitive to that!

“Arthur,” The man’s voice held no room for pleasantries. “What kind of person were you before the world taught you it was worth fearing?”

A walking thesis; that’s what he became since stepping foot into Arkham. Arthur had long lost any desire to remember the names of the white coats that came through one after the other, asking the same questions with the same incomprehensible words. Almost as if they’d forgotten how to speak to a person; or maybe it was Arthur who’d fallen out of personhood. All of them felt the same. Not this one.

The lanky man was so bold as to not fashion a coat. His black jumper was nothing to excite Arthur’s memory, and his dark hair, dark eyed appearance paired with bland features in just such a way that the only thing that stood out were weaknesses. Had it been only a few months prior, the man’s nose would’ve already been broken and Arthur would’ve been lunging for the nearest window if he hadn’t decided on an unguarded door. These sessions never ended well, but running made them worse. Arthur’s fingers dug into his white trousers while the other held tightly onto the only reason he hadn’t been dragged into this, bashing his head on any surface he could: nicotine. This one let him puff like a chimney.

Arthur’s lips curved into a sweet smile as he studied the metal table. He brought the cigarette to his lips once more, taking a lengthy drag before exhaling a smooth breath of smoke. His expression flickered to disappointment when he flicked the ashes to reveal the cigarette neared its butt, and he had no more left.

“Fear.” Arthur let out a deflated laugh once more releasing himself from his predicament. It felt like dreaming. He couldn’t conjure anything fantastical, and nothing pretty ever made it past the cinderblock, but he could find a crevice in his mind to hide from the noise.

“You disagree with my conclusion, Arthur?”

“What do you fear, doc?” Arthur snapped back, rising from his self-imposed cage so quickly it seemed voluntary. He tossed the cigarette butt onto the dirtied tile. “I know. You’re thinking,” He let out a small, stifled laugh. “I’m going to get up and you’ll learn why none of you want to be anywhere near me.”

“I didn’t take you for a tough guy.” The doctor retorted, unflinching.

“I’m not,” Green eyes met the dark pair looking back, defeat swelling in his tone. “I just have nothing to lose.”

“Everyone fears something, Arthur, regardless of their predicament. It can begin small. Anxieties, really. Things like sex, swimming, flying- everyone encounters these things and statistically they’re bound to fear at least one.”

“Can’t fear what I never tried.”

“That’s the crux of fear, isn’t it? The unknown?”

Arthur stomped on the fallen cigarette, smearing ash across the tile. He didn’t answer, nor did he move to assault the man- the most magnanimous course of action he was capable of.

“However, I don’t believe your case is as simple as not knowing. Your fear metastasized beyond mundane anxiety, or even a complex phobia. It transcended any physical process- I’ve always believed the power of the mind is far greater than that of the body.” The doctor pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, taking a collective breath. “Whether it was because of what happened in your childhood, or something rooted in your day-to-day living, your mind couldn’t reconcile that fear. It splintered you into two separate entities. The Arthur Fleck I see now,” He cast a shamelessly judgement glare. “Is one-half. The half that learned to be afraid. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, any confrontation in your life set off a fear response.”

Arthur cocked a brow.

“You felt powerless in your own life. To some extent, you were no different than any other loser struggling to make something of himself with no prospects to build from. There was no fight in you. Your flight had failed and every day you were in freefall; however, you did something miraculous. You fought midair. Halfway down it seemed that your body’s fight-or-flight response switched course. To some extent the death of your mother might’ve hastened your downfall-”

“Downfall.” Arthur repeated with a half-laugh.

“-you’re here, Arthur. That you’ve fallen isn’t up for debate. What’s remarkable is how many you managed to pull down with you, all because your mind couldn’t cope with its own fear. How many Arthur Flecks are there in the world? How many others are consumed by fear exactly the way you were?”

“That brings me back to my original question,” The doctor began to flip through a stained manila folder. “What kind of person were you before the world taught you it was worth fearing?”

Arthur shrugged. “Nobody.”

***

“-as one of Gotham’s most violent years comes to a close, citizens are embracing slow news days this holiday season. But officials are saying to stay frosty as the anniversary-”

The radio cut off abruptly as the van came to a screeching halt. Arthur had gotten into the habit of not knowing where he was and not asking questions, if only because the answer never made any sense. This new world was simultaneously dreary and overwhelming. He closed his eyes and saw white cinderblock, as if his mind scrambled in vain to retreat itself. Despite it all, he couldn’t tell if this would be a dream or a nightmare. He moved himself with moderate freedom, and before departing what appeared to be a condemned warehouse, his captors freed him from the white jumpsuit; he now fashioned a less menacing albeit less clean navy colored hoodie beneath a beige coat, paired with worn trousers and dress shoes a few walks away from developing holes. When he took a hesitant move to wipe them, something dusty rubbed off on his finger to reveal faded leather beneath.

Arthur’s attention turned to the figure sat directly adjacent to him. Undoubtedly they dressed better, in a well-tailored suit that clashed with the cartoonish colors of the clown mask concealing their features. Arthur didn’t care for it; its mouth contorted into a toothy grimace while the eyes comprised of two large burgundy rectangles. Two puffs of stupid looking blue hair protruded from both sides directly above the ear, setting something off inside of Arthur. Something about it seemed like nails on a chalkboard to his eyes. It took itself too seriously, in a way that inspired nervous laughter. The figure noticed his stare, tilting their head as if to draw attention to the gun placed across their lap.

He looked away.

The figures to either side were no comfort, one a burly beast of a clown while the other was smaller than Arthur that more than made up for their lack of height with one of the biggest guns Arthur encountered yet, and something shiny resting in a holster by their side. His hands were freed from cuffs, and though the raw imprints served as a reminder, the clowns packing heat seemed like a better incentive to behave than anything.

Arthur’s attention shifted to the front of the van where he could see two silhouettes. One was more recognizable than anything since Arkham, with his hunched posture and grotesque features. His eyes traveled from the smooth purple velvet of the so-called Joker’s suit to the figure sitting beside him, another masked figure Arthur assumed to be a clown as only the red tip of the nose was clearly visible. A loud knock against the partition marked the end of Arthur’s exploration, as the figure adjacent to him sprung up and swung the van doors open.

When the hulking clown to the right of Arthur nudged him with the business end of his gun, he stood and stumbled into a covered garage. The area seemed dimly lit- like the rest of the city to this point- however he could see countless clusters of light in the distance. Part of him wanted to run, to throw himself over the concrete wall where he could see the lively lights up close. He knew he wouldn’t make it far enough, but he didn’t mind that either.

“You ready to go shopping, Arthur?” The largest goon laughed as the smaller one shoved him in the back with the barrel of his gun.

“Can’t believe he clipped a guy on TV,” The smaller one spat, his voice somewhat muffled by the mask. “He’s such a pussy.”

Arthur’s breath first gathered in something like fear, until it turned bitter. Something stirred inside him; he felt sick, but kept it to himself. Their references were lost on him, and whatever he could recognize felt more like a dream than a memory. It was just far enough so that he knew that it happened, but not how it felt or how it looked. Even his memories lost color. His brows furrowed as his feet stayed planted on the ground until he was shoved once more.

He turned his head to watch the driver’s side as they passed, seeing the Joker stick something into the inner pocket of his coat. Before he could look away the two shared a glance, and the toothy smile that came Arthur’s way did less to put him at ease than the ugliest look ever could. The passenger seat door closed on the other side, but Arthur’s gaze couldn’t be averted.

The Joker approached him in what seemed to be his usual grotesquely confident stance, and despite the very public arena he seemed to have no problem standing around with a host of weapons on full display. Arthur did the worrying for him, until a cold glove collided with his cheek.

“Your first night out of the cuckoo’s nest, old boy. It’s time to celebrate! I picked the best spot in Gotham.” The Joker’s laugh sounded more like a snarl, something that would’ve been an unthinkably kind gesture turned sinister with only a smile. They shared a stare until the Joker yanked his hand away, looking at one of the goons behind Arthur. “Which one are you?”

“I’m Cooper.” The small one’s tone softened when he spoke to his employer.

“Right. Escort our friend Arthur here and make sure he finds exactly what we’re looking for. Make sure it’s,” He inhaled sharply. “Red.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“And you, Rocky-”

“It’s Rocco.” The large one interjected.

“Rocky.” The Joker corrected venomously. “Go help, ah,” He gestured at the large glass doors, glistening yellow from its contents. “Secure capital.”

As the Joker moved to make his way the direction opposite the store, he stopped and turned on his heels. “One more thing. If our boy tries to run, break his legs. If he tries to fight, shoot him. Oh, but if you do kill him,” The Joker gave a reassuring smile. “Then I kill you.”

“Yessir.” Cooper tried to stifle a laugh before he shoved Arthur once more. “Alright, let’s go shopping.”

***

Arthur walked into stillness. He digested the scene as long as he could, feeling like he’d stepped into a television rather than another segment of his unending nightmare. It was a splendor unlike anything Arthur had ever known, evident despite the haze of his memories. He looked up to the huge chandelier, watching every tear-shaped piece of glass catch the light. When he inhaled, he could smell cinnamon and pine. Everything was made of marble, from the garland-wrapped pillars that seemed as tall as Arkham itself to the seemingly unending staircase, to the counter top that held countless trinkets and jewelry in glass casing beneath. The glistening finery caught his eye at first, if only because he’d just never seen anything like it. He nearly gravitated towards it, until another step forward revealed a slowly swelling pool of crimson and a dark figure crouched over it, eagerly removing heaps of jewelry from the display.

Then he noticed the eyes. Countless pairs staring at him from makeshift hiding places, shooting looks worse than disgust. His chest tightened as he began to look more carefully and the horrific reality of the stillness took hold. Above all else, anger rose to the surface as their wordless stares evoked something he couldn’t recall. He felt it countless times, but he strained himself to remember when. With the cold barrell pressed against his back, he didn’t have much time to think about anything. They walked to total silence, with ambient music playing in the distance. As they neared the men’s section, Arthur saw a middle aged man duck behind a clothing rack while an older woman crawled behind a register.

“What’s your name?” Cooper shouted at woman, gun still pointed to Arthur’s back.

Silence answered him.

“I said,” Moving the gun towards the woman as she froze on all fours, Cooper tilted his head. “What the fuck is your name?”

“Mary. My name is Mary!” She cried, unable to raise her head.

“Okay, Mary. My friend here needs to get cleaned up. He needs a nice suit, red, in a size- ah, tall. Our budget- well,” He shook his gun at her. “Won’t be an issue.”

“I-I don’t know if we have any-”

“No fuckin’ red suits? It’s almost Christmas.” He gestured the gun towards a white door by the corner. “Check in there. There’s gotta be-”

Arthur flinched at the loud bang, the silence that followed, and the sensation of something wet splattering against his face. He froze, as if all at once confronted with something heavier than the world. It thrust him back into a colored crevice of his mind, albeit one that didn’t feel like his own.

”I’ll tell you what you get,” A painted man screamed, his voice trembling with resentment and despair.

Arthur blinked and found himself back in reality. He couldn’t escape into his imagination, or memory- whatever that was. A silent tear trickled down his cheek and collided with the blood spattered below his eye. His hand went to his ear as a terrible ringing took over until he finally had the sense to fall back. He fell beside a cluster of racks, his gaze not falling far to meet with- Cooper, was it? With a gaping bloody hole where the mask didn’t cover. The sight of it all would’ve turned Arthur’s stomach if the fear that took hold wasn’t so quick.

He couldn’t see the shooter beyond a navy blue pair of pants, but he could hear their voice. They sounded afraid too.

“Fuck!” The security guard trembled, clutching to his handgun as his huge eyes surveyed the space. “All of you stay down! If any of you thugs try anything I’ll shoot you, I swear. I fucking swear!” His voice broke as he turned in every which direction. “Stay right the fuck where you are and find out why Gotham isn’t afraid of you shitbags anymore. Don’t-”

Before the guard could struggle to keep himself together for another agonizing moment, the glass doors gave way. Thousands of shards flew every which way, sending another ringing through Arthur’s ears that kept him from seeing the large plumes of smoke crawling towards the ceiling. Alarms sounded to no response beyond more noise by way of screaming. Arthur didn’t scream. Slowly, he extended one arm past the curtain of clothes, then another. It felt like forever until he found his way above the lifeless body, yanking the gun with all the clumsiness of a child shoplifting from a candy store. He looked up to see the woman’s eyes frozen on his face, and without saying another word he fell back and listened.

The Joker strolled in, unburdened as his means of entry was handheld. Effective, too; the place looked as if it’d been showered by glass with the beginnings of an inferno at the base of the Christmas tree. Pristine shoes trampled over shards coating the marble floor, drawing a chorus of hushed gasps as he made his way further inside. A bullet whizzed past his shoulder and he contorted himself instinctively. Reaching into his coat, he fired a shot back. His landed into a security guard’s shoulder, the portly man falling back on himself as he clutched his shoulder. His gun skidded away, however he made no attempt to grab it as one hand went to the wound in his chest. Blood smeared against the pristine ground as he let out a string of hushed curses.

Before the Joker made another move towards him, he looked to the side. The dipshit Cooper got a hole in his head, from a mall cop no less- he got what he paid for, he supposed. A cowering woman hid feet away from Cooper’s body, but nothing else. He turned his attention back to his assailant. The would-be hero of the evening. Cocking his head, he merely watched as he stood with one leg on either side of the guard. The man let out strained gasps as he found his strength.

Faced with the gun in his attacker’s hand as the clown hunched over him, the security guard only glared as a forceful cough brought forth blood.

“Act tough all you want,” The guard coughed. “All of you are the same. You all think you control the world because you know how to scare people-” Another cough, the spasm it induced bringing tears to the man’s eyes. What looked back at him couldn’t be entirely considered a man, but a fascinated listener nonetheless. “-but you don’t. Not anymore. We have a hero now, one who isn’t afraid of nobodies like you.”

The Joker stood silently, black eyes peeking through black warpaint. He slid the revolver back into the pocket of his coat. His expression remained frozen in neutrality.

Arthur’s free hand went to his mouth when he heard an agonized scream, fearing it was his own. The broken glass that dug into his knees didn’t help. He crawled towards the gaping hole in the building’s entrance, trying to think beyond incomprehensible sounds of panic inside of his head and out. When another shot rang out, Arthur and anyone else with a semblance of a similar plan to his own dove into hiding. His spot of choice happened to be a kiosk by the jewelry counter, one that peddled the same product with a bullet hole between the eyes of its advertisement. It wasn’t until he neared its corner that he realized he wasn’t alone. Keeping balance on heels, a dark figure crouched as they sifted through what seemed to be a wallet with a handgun on the floor beside a sack. Arthur could make out a mask from behind, at once realizing it to be the unaccounted for passenger. He hoisted the gun nervously as if it was a long stick, slowly pushing it forward until the barrel met a mess of tied blonde curls.

“Put your hands up.” Arthur whispered, expecting to instantly learn why it was a terrible idea to do anything but run. He wanted that to be the case.

Instead, painted fingers slowly raised until both hands were in the air, still not a word passing between them.

Until they turned their head.

As they peered over their shoulder, Arthur could make out the details of their mask. Red at the nose and overdrawn smile and blue at the eyes, it sent a tightness through Arthur’s chest. Why exactly he couldn’t tell, but he reacted to it like a child retrieving their blanket.

“Take off the mask, now.”

Their hands went carefully to the bottom of the mask, palms open all the while. Arthur looked around as he waited, seeing no sign of the Joker or anyone who seemed remotely interested in holding him back. When the mask was gone, extended casually towards Arthur, initially it was all he could pay any mind to. He almost wanted to smile, and he would’ve had he been alone. Looking up, he saw a goon of a different stock than Cooper. Her skin was pale, although quite clearly untouched by the trendy white paint, while her face was round with an upturned nose and thin albeit shapely lips. He looked into her blue eyes and the arched brows that framed them, feeling something stir inside of him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the time.

“Give it to me-”

Whatever he wanted to say was cut off by the abrupt distant appearance of lights shifting rapidly from red to blue. Arthur recognized those more than easily enough, preparing to risk everything and run towards the way he came. Then the ground shook, and however close the cars might’ve been, any moves towards the store would’ve happened in pieces. Another was quick to collide with the wreckage, only adding to the fiery display. Arthur’s eyes grew huge as any plan he might’ve had went up in flames alongside the cars blocking the garage. There would be easier ways of seeking death than running through fire, if he craved it so badly.

He cradled the mask in one hand but made no moves to put it on.

With the explosion came another round of panicked screaming, admittedly only agitating Arthur instead of making him fear for them- or himself.

“So,” A voice rose above the pandemonium, shaken only by the tremors of laughter. “Let’s raise the stakes. For every minute the Batman doesn’t show, I kill one of you. If he’s not here in ten minutes, I kill all of you.”

Arthur’s face contorted. He couldn’t follow what he meant, but who was to say the Joker meant anything at all? The more Arthur thought, the angrier he became. The more his expression sank, the less he cowered. He wouldn’t play hero for this asshole’s amusement. Holding the mask, seeing the blank expression so ready to reflect his own, he felt different. He felt enough to know any move he made in this place would be in vain. He remembered enough to know-

Another deafening crack sent a hale of glass shards flying from the wall. The flurry outside wasted no time spilling in, although that seemed to be the least of anyone’s worries. Nobody screamed this time. Whatever broke the window, Arthur only noticed in his peripheral.

“Oh fuck.” Seemingly without regard to the gun aimed in her direction or really any of the pandemonium going on around her, the woman scanned the room in a moment of clarity Arthur had yet to reach. Her eyes settled on a white door across the way, the same one his former captor discovered shortly before having his brains blown out. Before Arthur could raise his concerns, she sprinted through the scene and disappeared past the door nearly as quickly as he’d found her.

“You might want to be more careful,” A shaky voice spoke to no one in particular. “One wrong step and I send this entire place sky high.”

When he heard a loud crash from the wall far opposite of the wall, he decided that would be his chance. Looking where the woman once joined him, he noticed the bag was gone but the gun remained. He looked at his own, bulky and heavy, and decided to switch. This one made his hand tremble, but he held onto his wrist until he could get another look at the door,

Seemingly clear as it ever would be, Arthur weaved awkwardly between rows of clothing racks all the while grimacing at the pain in his knees and cradling the mask to his side. Rather than slam the door in the midst of a sprint, Arthur paid no mind to closing it. After a short run through a darkened room, the sharp, frozen air of night greeted him. He coughed.

He looked around, and as much as he knew he shouldn’t, he looked around for her.

But there was nobody else.

Looking both ways once more, Arthur tried to get himself together. He stumbled, paying no mind to his hands until he heard the unmistakable pop aimed towards the pavement. He jumped. This was Gotham, he’d heard it countless times; yet nothing was familiar. He had enough sense to get as far away as he could, but how far could he run? Fatigue already wore heavily on him, and despite the chill that immediately greeted him, beads of sweat stuck dark strands to his forehead right to the brow. He felt more exhausted with every breath, and it was only then that he remembered the blood still on his face.

Only one place came somewhat close enough to a home for Arthur, and he remembered it now in cripplingly perfect clarity. As bitter tears found their way down his cheeks, he picked the emptiest route and kept walking. And walking. The ground shook and he kept walking.

None of it made sense.

***

((a bit more arthur-centric this chapter, but if you stan the joker i think you’ll really enjoy the next one ;) anything y’all wanna see in the future?))

#joker x joker #dark knight joker #the dark knight #ledger!joker #phoenix!joker #jokerverse #fanfic #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #joker 2019 spoilers

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