#fuck-face

“So ya was in Arkham, huh?” J asked the interviewee, leaning back in his seat and scrutinizing them closely. He didn’t look crazy - but then again, WHO THE FUCK DID? - and he certainly wasn’t in Arkham during the last stay J could remember.

He was average height, average build, with light brown hair, atypical American-Boy-Next-Door blue eyes, and sharp features. Maybe if he was taller he could be the face of the ‘You Don’t Know Who’s Crazy Just By One Look’ societal mandate. As it was though, he just looked… plain. Boring. Cute in a shy way, but not that cute that J would turn this interview in to a seduction. He was far too young anyway for J’s tastes, a mere BABY at 30 years old in J’s eyes.

“Five years an’ three months,” came the exact reply. “I was put in for killin’ the baby-sitter.” No shame. Good. “I did the rest at Blackgate. They thought I was ready. Guess I was… or maybe I wasn’t… I dunno. I’m here though, right, that’s not sayin’ anythin’ good!” he laughed. Crooked teeth and a large smile. A twinkle in the eyes. There J saw a flash of CRAZY which satisfied him.

“The baby-sitter?” J asked, finding that LAME. “What’d they do, smother yer kid?”

A shake of the head, a serious expression. “They… well, SHE… she’d also clean for us. Just some sprucin’ up. Laundry. She… she, uhm…”

“C’mon, I’m a busy man,” J urged with a sigh, finding the hesitation a bad mark against this guy.

He closed his eyes and spat it out, hands GRIPPING the armrests. “She found my stash of porn.” His eyes fluttered open. “GAY porn. She threatened to tell my… my wife… if I didn’t pay her college loan off.”

“They put ya in Arkham for that?” J asked in a monotone. It was hardly insanity.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely. “They put me there for killin’ her AN’ my wife. See, my wife… Brooke… Brooke walked in. I KNOW it was stupid of me to do it with her THERE but… I didn’t think. So I had to kill her, you know how it is… she’d never love me after that. I’d rather a funeral than a divorce. I s’pose what didn’t help my case was that I didn’t report it… an’ I insisted on keepin’ them there. I mean… I swore they were alive, I… I HEARD them. Laughin’ at me, talkin’ about the stains on the carpet… I couldn’t BURY them alive, could I?”

“So I’m guessin’ Arkham pegged ya for Schizophrenic.”

“Among other HURTFUL things. I’ve always heard voices… what harm is it? Tell me, Mister Joker, what harm is it when a man hears voices? I’m never lonely this way… they never… they always have my back. So what harm?” he asked angrily, hands now wringing. “It’s that quote from Marlon Brando… I forget the movie… ‘never lonely and sometimes I envy them’.”

“Yer askin’ the wrong guy,” J shrugged, finding the argument valid.

“I mightn’t have loved Brooke as a man should… but I loved her in other ways. Her an’ lil’ Suzie.” He stopped, sighing. “They told me my mother has her now… she won’t let me see her. MY OWN CHILD.The Courts are backin’ her OF COURSE.”

“So why not live a wholesome life tryin’ t’get yer baby back? Why come t’me?” J asked swiftly, feeling NOTHING for the man’s anguish. It was a consequence many faced and it certainly wasn’t J’s problem.

He smiled gently, leaning forward. “Mister Joker, I’m takin’ a leaf outta your book. I’ve… it’s embarrassin’, but I always admired you. Your… philosophy. The things you say. So I’m a new man! No more hidin’ or secrets… I can’t go back to my old life, so… I’m makin’ a new one!”

J looked over the files he had Frost steal and blackmail for. This guy was seriously disturbed by all accounts. Clean though. Before the baby-sitter incident, he was a lawful citizen, wealthy, and well-liked. He had once seen a therapist for the voices, but that had promptly ended when he REFUSED to medicate ‘his friends’ away. So he had a minor record of insanity. He also admired J’s philosophy.

“Ya know how to work a gun? Sure, ya’ve killed an’ been a bad guy, bu’ would ya be prepared t’kill on command? Take orders? Enter a life o’ crime, rather than jus’ dip yer feet?”

He leaned forward even more, a manic look coming over him. “Mister Joker… the only sadness I have about killin’ that bitch baby-sitter an’ Brooke is that I got caught. That I… I hadn’t a real chance to do it again. I’ve always wanted to kill, you see… but until that day… I didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as I did. I can learn about guns. I can kill on command like a good doggy. I been takin’ orders ever since I got a job. Workin’ for you? The one difference is that I’d LOVE workin’ for you.”

J sighed, thinking. No criminal record, just a crazy one. No experience with guns. No connections. No know-how about how the business works. But… he was clearly on board to learn. He followed J’s philosophy. He was determined. Hell, didn’t J HIMSELF start out knowing fuck-all? “I’ll give ya a trial-period of… let’s say three months. After that, we’ll make a final decision on yer place. I’m givin’ ya a chance to show me… prove yerself t’me.”

His face lit up. “Oh, gosh! Oh… I… thank you, thank you so much! I promise, you WON’T regret this.”

“Yeah, yeah, look: get yerself a mask. Abandon yer outpatient programme an’ whatever hole they got ya livin’ at. Go shoot yer probation officer or whatever ya got. Then we’ll talk ground rules, a’ight, Farris?”

“Please, I…” He stopped, rummaging around in the gym bag at his feet, producing A PLAIN WHITE MASK whose only disruption was the words ‘FUCK’ on the forehead and ‘FACE’ on the chin. “I took the liberty!” he gushed.

J frowned at it. “Plain… so it’d suit ya. Bu’ what’s with the scribbles?”

“It’s what Melissa called me. The baby-sitter. She called me that before I stabbed her in the dirty fat mouth. Whenever I wear it, I think of her,” he sighed fondly, STROKING the mask now as though it were a lover’s face.

“Fuck-Face it is then. I like it better anyhow. Easier t’remember,” J nodded with a grin, finding this man growing on him already.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I think. It’s unassumin’… unique… it’s… well, it’s ME, isn’t it?”

“Oh no… it’s the YOU yer gunna learn t’be. An’ yer gunna own that name. It’ll go down in history.”