Round 2, Challenge #4: "Podiums as high as the gallows are low"
Title: Podiums as high as the gallows are low
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,282
Summary: Yunho is the night!!!!! Title taken from a Sunset Rubdown song.
Warnings: A little violence, shameless appeal to nullspace's preferences.
Arkham Asylum’s interior is similar to a coffin.
“So, tell me why you’ve come to visit us here, Mr. Jung?” The psychiatrist glances over her shoulder as she walks briskly down the hall, Yunho on her tail.
“I’ve put a lot of money into this institution, Dr. Quinzel,” Yunho says. “I’m interested in seeing exactly what sorts of treatments are used.”
“Of course,” she says with a little smile. Her heels echo each time they hit the tile floor. “Is there any particular patient you’d like to meet?”
The hallway is lined with doorways, each one heavy and white with a small square window. They’re filled with the city’s most powerful men and women, each in a shabby off-white jumpsuit, sitting on steel beds or pacing or just sitting, staring, catching Yunho’s eyes and sparking something that feels like recognition.
“Hm? Well, I did hear that you’ve recently had the Joker moved into this facility.”
“Ah, so the true reason comes out.” Dr. Quinzel winks. “Morbid curiousity. Don’t worry though, we’ve had a lot of doctors come from all across the country just to gawk at the poor fellow.”
“’Poor fellow’ isn’t exactly a way I’d describe him.”
“It’s just down this hall.” She pulls an ID card from her pocket and scans it. The door creaks open. “We’ve got him on observation for now. Also, we’d appreciate it if you’d refer to him as his real name, Jaejoong, instead of his Joker moniker. We like the patients to leave the costumes at the door.” She laughs a bit and steps into the hallway.
Already weaseled a name out of him, be it real or not, Yunho thinks. Impressive.
Dr. Quinzel leads him down the hall and into one of the larger rooms at Arkham, a dimly lit cube of steel and cement and sterile white furnishings. The far wall is made up completely of glass. The room opposite the glass is entirely white with nothing but a simple bed, a toilet, and a figure curled up under the sheets.
“The glass is one-way and the room is soundproofed,” she says. “He won’t know we’re here until I alert him. Would you like me to tell him you’re here?”
Yunho crosses his arms. The Joker sits up and plants his feet on the floor, staring towards the glass. “Go ahead.”
Dr. Quinzel presses a button on the table and speaks into the microphone. “Good morning, Jaejoong."
The Joker’s lips are painted red, neatly, like a geisha, and they threaten to crack when he grins. His face is porcelain white and his eyes lined heavy and dark; the cleanliness of the makeup is a sharp contrast to his rumpled purple suit and dark messy hair. At first glance, Yunho thinks, he might even be pretty, without the makeup smeared by sweat and combat and teeth yellow in Gotham’s streetlights, without his eyes lost in the fog of that cackle.
“Gooo-oood morning, Doctor,” the Joker singsongs, standing up and stretching his arms lazily over his head. His voice is sharp and gravelly through the speakers. “What a lovely day to be at Arkham, hm? I’m just so pleased you’ve come to pay me a visit.” He yawns and works his fingers through his hair.
“I’ve brought someone to see you today, Jaejoong.” Dr. Quinzel glances at Yunho and motions to a chair. He shakes his head.
“A guest? What fun.” The Joker steps towards the glass until he’s almost pressed against it, those dark eyes fixated towards Yunho as if he could see through.
“It’s Mr. Jung, head of Jung Enterprises. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” Dr. Quinzel slides the microphone across the table to Yunho.
“Hello Jaejoong.”
“Helloooo, Yunho. I’m so flattered that you’ve come to check up on my recovery.”
Yunho doesn’t answer, just watches the glass. The Joker beams and continues. “What’s Gotham like without me around? Quiet? Boring? How’s Batsy doing? I worry about him, you know. We were so close.”
“He’s the one that put you in here, right?” Yunho crosses his arms.
“Oh yes.” The Joker’s eyes never leave Yunho. It’s unnerving, even though he knows the Joker can’t see anything but his own reflection. “He was just so proud of himself too, you should’ve seen his little eyes, twinkling away…”
“I’m sure he was.”
“Do you know him, Yunho? I bet you do, Mr. Man-About-Town. Do send him my regards, I miss him so. I’m so cold and alone, you know. So cold, so alone.” The Joker laughs, a soft chuckle that escalates quickly into gunshot bursts that echo through the speakers and burrow in Yunho’s ears.
“Can’t say I do,” Yunho says over the Joker’s howls. “I’ve just come to see if my money is going to a worthy cause. I believe it is.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Jung,” the Joker giggles, wiping a tear from his eye. The black makeup runs in lines down his face. “That means a lot. Really, it does! When I get out of here and I’m all big and sane and healthy like the lot of you, I’ll come visit you at your penthouse with all the glass. I’ll even crawl into your bed and whisper sweet nothings like that girl did, you know, the one that exploded?” The Joker’s hands open against the glass and he imitates the explosion in his throat.
Yunho’s eyes drop from the Joker’s face to the floor. His nails bite into his palms.
“Want to see her boyfriend? He’s right down the hall.” The laughter bubbles in the Joker’s chest and escapes in riotous barks.
Dr. Quinzel clicks the microphone off. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Jung. It’s time for Jaejoong’s medication. I can call a nurse to show you the other patients if you’re interested.”
“No thanks,” Yunho says, watching the Joker keel over in laughter swallowed by the soundproof walls.
“Jaejoong?” Dr. Quinzel slips into the Joker’s cell.
“Oh, Dr. Quinzel, light of my life…”
The door clicks shut behind him.
-----
“Goood evening, Mr. Jung.”
The words press against his ear, warm and damp with saliva and paint. Yunho’s bed is too big and too hot. The room is dark and empty and the clock is stuck on midnight again.
“Thought I wouldn’t come see you, hm?” The Joker’s fingers trip over Yunho’s lips and down his throat, pushing the sheets down to trail across his chest. “I’m a man of my word.” The Joker’s wearing the same rumpled purple suit, the top buttons of his shirt undone teasingly.
“You,” Yunho hisses, one hand wrapping around the Joker’s neck.
“Me,” he answers, followed by a choked laugh. His hands wrap around Yunho’s wrist and he forces himself forward.
The Joker-or is it Jaejoong?-kisses like an animal, teeth and tongue and fire. Yunho’s head spins with the taste and smell of blood.
Yunho’s eyes open. The bed is empty. The clock reads 3:44 AM. He sits up, wiping the sweat off his face and then touching his fingers to his lips, half-expecting them to be stained red. “He’s in Arkham,” Yunho assures himself. “You put him there, where he belongs.”
He can’t sleep.
-----
It was too easy to get into the computers. If he wasn’t able to do it, then there would’ve been an excuse. He makes a mental note to put a lot of the money towards security.
Batman slips like a shadow through Arkham’s hallways, past the cells of convicts and towards the observation hall.
It’s been two weeks. Why hasn’t he tried anything? Why were there no attacks, no casualties, no escape attempts? It was too easy. It eats away at Batman’s brain and keeps him awake at night, floods him with dreams he wants to forget.
He has to know. He has to understand. He has to look the Joker in those dark eyes and know why he gave up (and that’s it). Gotham is quiet.
Batman ignores the one-way glass and steps immediately into the cell. The Joker is on the bed, sleeping on his back like a corpse. The door clicks shut. The Joker’s teeth catch the dim light as he grins.
“Batsy really cares,” the Joker hisses through his teeth. “I thought you’d never come.”
“Get up.”
“But I’m so sleepy--”
Batman grabs the Joker by the collar of his shirt and slams him against the padded wall. “What are you waiting for. Tell me what your plans are.”
The Joker giggles, high pitched and childish. “Batsy’s getting antsy, huh? I just wanna get treated, huh, I wanna be a real boy.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Joker.” His grip tightens.
“Practical jokes have to wait until the right moment!” The Joker’s voice drops an octave. “Gotham’s too quiet now, isn’t it? You miss the action. You miss having someone that matches you. I was the only challenge you had, and now you’ve got nothing. Now you’re alone.”
“I know freaks like you don’t change to model inmates overnight.” Batman drops the Joker, who collapses into a heap on the floor.
“Not a freak,” he hisses. “I’m not the one living in denial.”
Batman rolls the Joker over with the toe of his boot. “I’ve got eyes everywhere, Joker. The second you try anything I’ll be there. I’ll put you in the ground next time.”
“You’re so close,” the Joker hisses. He scoots forwards and wraps his hands around Batman’s ankles. “Rules, warnings, threats. If you mean it, just do it now. Put me in the ground. Kill me. Put one of those neat bat-shaped knives right in my neck. It’s not a game. It’s justice. I’ve killed so many people.”
Batman kicks the Joker away and puts his foot on his throat.
“Kill me,” the Joker hisses. “You’re not a policeman, not a judge. You don’t have a face. You’re a freak.” His hands press Batman’s foot into his throat. “I want you to do it. Iwantyoutodoit.”
Batman shakes the Joker off and steps back before planting a solid kick in his ribs. “I’m no policeman, but I’m no madman. I have morals. That’s where we differ.”
“They hate you,” the Joker wheezes at Batman’s retreating figure. “Gotham City hates you. They fear you and they hate you. But us ‘madmen’ in this little sanctum, we could love you. We don’t have faces either.”
-----
Three weeks of sleepless nights before the Joker makes his move.
“Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen! Trust takes some time to build, you know?” The Joker’s arm wraps tightly around Dr. Quinzel’s waist, whose eyes are wide and brimming with terrified tears.
“Mr. Dent, hello, welcome to the party.” The Joker drags Dr. Quinzel through the hallways, opening doors with her key. “Mr. Tetch, good to see you, love the hat. Mr. Zeus, shocking to see you, hee hee, evening Mr. Nygma, Dr. Crane.”
The Joker’s hand is hovering contemplatively over a keypad when Batman drops from the ceiling into the hallway, knocking convicts aside like dolls. “Joker.”
“Ah, Batsy’s come to join the party!”
“Drop the girl.”
Dr. Quinzel’s fingers are tight on the Joker’s arm. He presses the switchblade closer to her throat. “Uh-uh, Batsy. You had your chance. Now you’re going to have to work to fulfill that promise. The pretty doctor here let me out, isn’t she nice?”
“No-“ Dr. Quinzel’s voice is choked against the blade. “He was making such-such progress-a breath of fresh air-“
“You got manipulated, Doctor, and now we’re all paying for it. Drop the girl, Joker.”
The Joker’s giggle is soft, childish, and pressed to Dr. Quinzel’s ear. “You know, Doctor, this was the door I really wasn’t sure about opening.” He turns to Batman. “But, now that you’re here, I think it’s a great idea!”
Batman takes another step forward.
“Let’s see what’s behind door number… One!” The Joker wrenches the cell door open.
Batman stops in his tracks. The man that lumbers out of the cell crouches against the ceiling, his shoulders taking up the width of the hallway and his mouth open and drooling. His teeth are like a shark’s, his head oddly extended, like that of a lizard’s, with red eyes gleaming. His skin is dark and scaly and rippling with muscles. He growls, animalistic, and reaches clawed hands towards Batman.
“Killer Croc’s missed you as well!” Batman’s fists swing into the beast’s teeth, then his ribs.
The Joker’s laughter and Dr. Quinzel’s screams get softer.
The police arrive and approximately half of Arkham’s patients are recaptured and put into their cells. The other half, and some staff, are unaccounted for. The Joker and Dr. Harleen Quinzel are on that list.
-----
“Twinkle, twinkle little bat.”
The words are breathed onto Yunho’s face. The Joker is straddling him, his legs pinning down Yunho’s arms, his back arched down so their eyes meet. “I’m dreaming,” Yunho whispers.
“Have you been dreaming about me, Mr. Jung?” The Joker presses the blade of his knife to Yunho’s neck, just as he pressed it to Dr. Quinzel’s.
“Get off me.”
“No.” The Joker’s lips are soft against Yunho’s cheek. “I said I’d come visit you, didn’t I? I’m big and sane and healthy.” The knife is cold. The Joker laughs a little and traces Yunho’s jawline with his free hand. “How I wonder where he’s at.”
“You said,” Yunho says, clenching his teeth. “You could love me.”
A flash of realization whips through the Joker’s dark eyes and lights them on fire. “I could,” he said, his lips stretching into a wide, wide grin. “You wouldn’t let me.”
Yunho’s head spins with the taste and smell of blood.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,282
Summary: Yunho is the night!!!!! Title taken from a Sunset Rubdown song.
Warnings: A little violence, shameless appeal to nullspace's preferences.
Arkham Asylum’s interior is similar to a coffin.
“So, tell me why you’ve come to visit us here, Mr. Jung?” The psychiatrist glances over her shoulder as she walks briskly down the hall, Yunho on her tail.
“I’ve put a lot of money into this institution, Dr. Quinzel,” Yunho says. “I’m interested in seeing exactly what sorts of treatments are used.”
“Of course,” she says with a little smile. Her heels echo each time they hit the tile floor. “Is there any particular patient you’d like to meet?”
The hallway is lined with doorways, each one heavy and white with a small square window. They’re filled with the city’s most powerful men and women, each in a shabby off-white jumpsuit, sitting on steel beds or pacing or just sitting, staring, catching Yunho’s eyes and sparking something that feels like recognition.
“Hm? Well, I did hear that you’ve recently had the Joker moved into this facility.”
“Ah, so the true reason comes out.” Dr. Quinzel winks. “Morbid curiousity. Don’t worry though, we’ve had a lot of doctors come from all across the country just to gawk at the poor fellow.”
“’Poor fellow’ isn’t exactly a way I’d describe him.”
“It’s just down this hall.” She pulls an ID card from her pocket and scans it. The door creaks open. “We’ve got him on observation for now. Also, we’d appreciate it if you’d refer to him as his real name, Jaejoong, instead of his Joker moniker. We like the patients to leave the costumes at the door.” She laughs a bit and steps into the hallway.
Already weaseled a name out of him, be it real or not, Yunho thinks. Impressive.
Dr. Quinzel leads him down the hall and into one of the larger rooms at Arkham, a dimly lit cube of steel and cement and sterile white furnishings. The far wall is made up completely of glass. The room opposite the glass is entirely white with nothing but a simple bed, a toilet, and a figure curled up under the sheets.
“The glass is one-way and the room is soundproofed,” she says. “He won’t know we’re here until I alert him. Would you like me to tell him you’re here?”
Yunho crosses his arms. The Joker sits up and plants his feet on the floor, staring towards the glass. “Go ahead.”
Dr. Quinzel presses a button on the table and speaks into the microphone. “Good morning, Jaejoong."
The Joker’s lips are painted red, neatly, like a geisha, and they threaten to crack when he grins. His face is porcelain white and his eyes lined heavy and dark; the cleanliness of the makeup is a sharp contrast to his rumpled purple suit and dark messy hair. At first glance, Yunho thinks, he might even be pretty, without the makeup smeared by sweat and combat and teeth yellow in Gotham’s streetlights, without his eyes lost in the fog of that cackle.
“Gooo-oood morning, Doctor,” the Joker singsongs, standing up and stretching his arms lazily over his head. His voice is sharp and gravelly through the speakers. “What a lovely day to be at Arkham, hm? I’m just so pleased you’ve come to pay me a visit.” He yawns and works his fingers through his hair.
“I’ve brought someone to see you today, Jaejoong.” Dr. Quinzel glances at Yunho and motions to a chair. He shakes his head.
“A guest? What fun.” The Joker steps towards the glass until he’s almost pressed against it, those dark eyes fixated towards Yunho as if he could see through.
“It’s Mr. Jung, head of Jung Enterprises. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” Dr. Quinzel slides the microphone across the table to Yunho.
“Hello Jaejoong.”
“Helloooo, Yunho. I’m so flattered that you’ve come to check up on my recovery.”
Yunho doesn’t answer, just watches the glass. The Joker beams and continues. “What’s Gotham like without me around? Quiet? Boring? How’s Batsy doing? I worry about him, you know. We were so close.”
“He’s the one that put you in here, right?” Yunho crosses his arms.
“Oh yes.” The Joker’s eyes never leave Yunho. It’s unnerving, even though he knows the Joker can’t see anything but his own reflection. “He was just so proud of himself too, you should’ve seen his little eyes, twinkling away…”
“I’m sure he was.”
“Do you know him, Yunho? I bet you do, Mr. Man-About-Town. Do send him my regards, I miss him so. I’m so cold and alone, you know. So cold, so alone.” The Joker laughs, a soft chuckle that escalates quickly into gunshot bursts that echo through the speakers and burrow in Yunho’s ears.
“Can’t say I do,” Yunho says over the Joker’s howls. “I’ve just come to see if my money is going to a worthy cause. I believe it is.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Jung,” the Joker giggles, wiping a tear from his eye. The black makeup runs in lines down his face. “That means a lot. Really, it does! When I get out of here and I’m all big and sane and healthy like the lot of you, I’ll come visit you at your penthouse with all the glass. I’ll even crawl into your bed and whisper sweet nothings like that girl did, you know, the one that exploded?” The Joker’s hands open against the glass and he imitates the explosion in his throat.
Yunho’s eyes drop from the Joker’s face to the floor. His nails bite into his palms.
“Want to see her boyfriend? He’s right down the hall.” The laughter bubbles in the Joker’s chest and escapes in riotous barks.
Dr. Quinzel clicks the microphone off. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Jung. It’s time for Jaejoong’s medication. I can call a nurse to show you the other patients if you’re interested.”
“No thanks,” Yunho says, watching the Joker keel over in laughter swallowed by the soundproof walls.
“Jaejoong?” Dr. Quinzel slips into the Joker’s cell.
“Oh, Dr. Quinzel, light of my life…”
The door clicks shut behind him.
-----
“Goood evening, Mr. Jung.”
The words press against his ear, warm and damp with saliva and paint. Yunho’s bed is too big and too hot. The room is dark and empty and the clock is stuck on midnight again.
“Thought I wouldn’t come see you, hm?” The Joker’s fingers trip over Yunho’s lips and down his throat, pushing the sheets down to trail across his chest. “I’m a man of my word.” The Joker’s wearing the same rumpled purple suit, the top buttons of his shirt undone teasingly.
“You,” Yunho hisses, one hand wrapping around the Joker’s neck.
“Me,” he answers, followed by a choked laugh. His hands wrap around Yunho’s wrist and he forces himself forward.
The Joker-or is it Jaejoong?-kisses like an animal, teeth and tongue and fire. Yunho’s head spins with the taste and smell of blood.
Yunho’s eyes open. The bed is empty. The clock reads 3:44 AM. He sits up, wiping the sweat off his face and then touching his fingers to his lips, half-expecting them to be stained red. “He’s in Arkham,” Yunho assures himself. “You put him there, where he belongs.”
He can’t sleep.
-----
It was too easy to get into the computers. If he wasn’t able to do it, then there would’ve been an excuse. He makes a mental note to put a lot of the money towards security.
Batman slips like a shadow through Arkham’s hallways, past the cells of convicts and towards the observation hall.
It’s been two weeks. Why hasn’t he tried anything? Why were there no attacks, no casualties, no escape attempts? It was too easy. It eats away at Batman’s brain and keeps him awake at night, floods him with dreams he wants to forget.
He has to know. He has to understand. He has to look the Joker in those dark eyes and know why he gave up (and that’s it). Gotham is quiet.
Batman ignores the one-way glass and steps immediately into the cell. The Joker is on the bed, sleeping on his back like a corpse. The door clicks shut. The Joker’s teeth catch the dim light as he grins.
“Batsy really cares,” the Joker hisses through his teeth. “I thought you’d never come.”
“Get up.”
“But I’m so sleepy--”
Batman grabs the Joker by the collar of his shirt and slams him against the padded wall. “What are you waiting for. Tell me what your plans are.”
The Joker giggles, high pitched and childish. “Batsy’s getting antsy, huh? I just wanna get treated, huh, I wanna be a real boy.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Joker.” His grip tightens.
“Practical jokes have to wait until the right moment!” The Joker’s voice drops an octave. “Gotham’s too quiet now, isn’t it? You miss the action. You miss having someone that matches you. I was the only challenge you had, and now you’ve got nothing. Now you’re alone.”
“I know freaks like you don’t change to model inmates overnight.” Batman drops the Joker, who collapses into a heap on the floor.
“Not a freak,” he hisses. “I’m not the one living in denial.”
Batman rolls the Joker over with the toe of his boot. “I’ve got eyes everywhere, Joker. The second you try anything I’ll be there. I’ll put you in the ground next time.”
“You’re so close,” the Joker hisses. He scoots forwards and wraps his hands around Batman’s ankles. “Rules, warnings, threats. If you mean it, just do it now. Put me in the ground. Kill me. Put one of those neat bat-shaped knives right in my neck. It’s not a game. It’s justice. I’ve killed so many people.”
Batman kicks the Joker away and puts his foot on his throat.
“Kill me,” the Joker hisses. “You’re not a policeman, not a judge. You don’t have a face. You’re a freak.” His hands press Batman’s foot into his throat. “I want you to do it. Iwantyoutodoit.”
Batman shakes the Joker off and steps back before planting a solid kick in his ribs. “I’m no policeman, but I’m no madman. I have morals. That’s where we differ.”
“They hate you,” the Joker wheezes at Batman’s retreating figure. “Gotham City hates you. They fear you and they hate you. But us ‘madmen’ in this little sanctum, we could love you. We don’t have faces either.”
-----
Three weeks of sleepless nights before the Joker makes his move.
“Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen! Trust takes some time to build, you know?” The Joker’s arm wraps tightly around Dr. Quinzel’s waist, whose eyes are wide and brimming with terrified tears.
“Mr. Dent, hello, welcome to the party.” The Joker drags Dr. Quinzel through the hallways, opening doors with her key. “Mr. Tetch, good to see you, love the hat. Mr. Zeus, shocking to see you, hee hee, evening Mr. Nygma, Dr. Crane.”
The Joker’s hand is hovering contemplatively over a keypad when Batman drops from the ceiling into the hallway, knocking convicts aside like dolls. “Joker.”
“Ah, Batsy’s come to join the party!”
“Drop the girl.”
Dr. Quinzel’s fingers are tight on the Joker’s arm. He presses the switchblade closer to her throat. “Uh-uh, Batsy. You had your chance. Now you’re going to have to work to fulfill that promise. The pretty doctor here let me out, isn’t she nice?”
“No-“ Dr. Quinzel’s voice is choked against the blade. “He was making such-such progress-a breath of fresh air-“
“You got manipulated, Doctor, and now we’re all paying for it. Drop the girl, Joker.”
The Joker’s giggle is soft, childish, and pressed to Dr. Quinzel’s ear. “You know, Doctor, this was the door I really wasn’t sure about opening.” He turns to Batman. “But, now that you’re here, I think it’s a great idea!”
Batman takes another step forward.
“Let’s see what’s behind door number… One!” The Joker wrenches the cell door open.
Batman stops in his tracks. The man that lumbers out of the cell crouches against the ceiling, his shoulders taking up the width of the hallway and his mouth open and drooling. His teeth are like a shark’s, his head oddly extended, like that of a lizard’s, with red eyes gleaming. His skin is dark and scaly and rippling with muscles. He growls, animalistic, and reaches clawed hands towards Batman.
“Killer Croc’s missed you as well!” Batman’s fists swing into the beast’s teeth, then his ribs.
The Joker’s laughter and Dr. Quinzel’s screams get softer.
The police arrive and approximately half of Arkham’s patients are recaptured and put into their cells. The other half, and some staff, are unaccounted for. The Joker and Dr. Harleen Quinzel are on that list.
-----
“Twinkle, twinkle little bat.”
The words are breathed onto Yunho’s face. The Joker is straddling him, his legs pinning down Yunho’s arms, his back arched down so their eyes meet. “I’m dreaming,” Yunho whispers.
“Have you been dreaming about me, Mr. Jung?” The Joker presses the blade of his knife to Yunho’s neck, just as he pressed it to Dr. Quinzel’s.
“Get off me.”
“No.” The Joker’s lips are soft against Yunho’s cheek. “I said I’d come visit you, didn’t I? I’m big and sane and healthy.” The knife is cold. The Joker laughs a little and traces Yunho’s jawline with his free hand. “How I wonder where he’s at.”
“You said,” Yunho says, clenching his teeth. “You could love me.”
A flash of realization whips through the Joker’s dark eyes and lights them on fire. “I could,” he said, his lips stretching into a wide, wide grin. “You wouldn’t let me.”
Yunho’s head spins with the taste and smell of blood.