|He Does Autographs|
|What: There are all sorts of reasons why Strife decided to come and see the world. A big one is The Joker, currently incarcerated in Arkham Asylum. How could she resist the opportunity to come and say hello? And request an autograph? Of course, he's in no position to give one right now... but Strife does her part to help him get back to his adoring public soon.|
They say that cruel Strife touches the lives of all at least once. For what man has not, at some point, known the bitterness of disappointment? The cruel shattering touch of chaos unleashed 'pon their lives? It has been hundreds of years since those words have been literally true; for Strife has long been confined by the will of her father to Mount Olympus. But Strife may not be bound forever, not when the world is full of such glorious agents of chaos as exist in this era, and now that she has retrieved her lost little toy, it is time she amuses herself.
Which is how Doctor Erin Rise comes to let herself into Arkham this morning. Paying lip service to the uniform, she's obtained serious-looking glasses, and a labcoat, and oddly enough, people do not seem to want to question her existence here. Instead, she has obtained an interview room, with an increasingly-nervous-looking security guard, and she has made her request.
She would like to meet the man who, above all others, intrigued her and brought her down from those lofty heights. The man who undoubtedly best exemplifies her darkest and most sadistic urges. The man who understands what it is to live a life touched by true Chaos.
She is here, to meet The Joker.
"And so I said, 'Why the long face?' HAHAHEHAHAEHAH!"
The pair of guards escorting the Clown Prince of Crime do not look happy. It appears the Joker has been telling them jokes, most likely horrific, murderous ones that are more creepy then funny based on their expressions. When they make it to the interview room, he's roughly slammed into his chair and two chains are attached to his straight jacket, one at the arms, and one at the neck, then both are attached to the table. They check the chair to make sure it's still bolted in place, check the nearest overhead lamp to make sure the lightbulb has been removed, they even sweep the room, turning up a tack, and frown at the Joker before walking out.
All the while, Joker's been grinning from ear to ear, eyes locked on the Doctor, and when they finally walk out, he cackles briefly, "Thorough, aren't they?" Still grinning, he tilts his head, eyeing up his visitor, before asking, "Have we met? Did we blow up a school bus together?"
The pale woman's lips quirk upwards lightly at the sound of his laughter. It is not a pleasant smile, and it likely does nothing to set the guards at their ease when they enter and do their search. She doesn't move a muscle, doesn't even blink, as they go about their work. It isn't until they leave that she leans backwards, sprawling, to put her feet up on the table. Most certainly not your standard Doctor, then; but in Arkham, perhaps that isn't so peculiar.
"I've only had the opportunity to admire your art from afar." Strife says, as she relaxes. "But when I realized I'd be wandering through town, well, I couldn't resist the opportunity to stop by and say hello." There's genuine amusement sparkling in her eyes, even if she is far more restrained in it than the green-haired man, "Your doctors don't seem to think you're responding well to treatment. How do YOU feel it is going, hmm? Does the world make more sense, yet?"
"A fan!" Joker's already too-large-to-be-allowed smile grows even larger, and he leans forward suddenly over the table. "I always love to meet the unwashed masses. Do you want an autograph? Just stick a pencil in my mouth... Oh! Do you want to see a magic trick? HahaHehaHaa!" His head straightens out, and he lowers his voice, especially as she asks her question, "Between you and me?" He watches her, waiting for confirmation that she'll keep whatever secret he's about to tell her. After another brief pause, he grins and shouts at the top of his lungs, "The world isn't /supposed/ to make sense!" With that, he breaks out into hysterical laughter, his forehead slamming against the table, in his glee. When he finally gains control enough to speak, he says, "Now remember, don't tell anyone. They'll start questioning their lives, sprialing out of control, falling into a deep pit of despair and insanity... and I want to be there for it."
The 'Doctor' nods her head, and Strife is definitely more composed than The Joker, but where most people would react with startled horror to the outburst, not to mention the fact he bounces his own head off the table, the woman seems more amused than anything else. "I think I know that trick." She says, idly, whilst he laughs and laughs and laughs.
"I've always admired that about, people." She continues, when he's composed himself a little. The word 'person' seems to have been chosen very deliberately. "The ability to construct these careful rules and little games to pass the time. And then how, frantic, they get when they find that the universe doesn't care." Her fingers drum against the table - an irregular, dancing sound. Man or God, it all holds true. "There's a lot of interesting rules being set up right now, you know. Registration. 'Justice Leagues'. People start to put their faith in these ideas..."
The Joker knows when he's being played. He knows the Docs who come in and try to sound like they sympathize, understand, or are just like him. This... is different. He eyes her with a little more awareness now, as if he recognizes a kindred soul in her, and he's quiet, though grinning, while she speaks. He nods his agreement, chuckling gleefully the whole time, and when she mentions the Justice League, he bursts out laughing once again, "The Justice League?! Oh, don't make me laugh. All I need is a pound of C4, a deck of cards, and a little Jazz music and they'll fall harder then my uncle Larry when he's finished off the cooking sherry." He giggles uncontrollably, stating, "It's all a sham, a ruse, a hooey! Oh, how I long to be out on the streets again, alas..." He sighs, looking wistfully at the door.
Oh, there are differences, to be sure. Strife hates getting her hands dirty. It is much more fun for her, to set events in motion. Which is, of course, what has brought her here, isn't it? At last, the 'Doctor' lets her legs swing around and off the table, and she stands up, stretching her arms above her head. "Yes, it is a pity that I don't have the authority to let you out." She says, as she steps neatly around the table. There's a brief moment of eye contact with the remaining guard... and he stares, blankly. He'll have no memory of what occurs next. As far as he's concerned, she simply, walked out.
She didn't lean down and say. "But you'll have to come and give me that autograph, some time." Before slipping a mechanical pencil from her pocket, underneath the collar of The Joker's straightjacket, where it will nestle almost imperceptibly. The faintest of smiles on her lips.
She's every confidence that he can take it from here.
The Joker watches the Doctor stand, and the guard's face at it goes blank. His grin increases, having seen similar kinds of things from his colleagues all the time, and when she slips the pencil under his collar, he starts to giggle.