I'm not crazy. I'm not. (Joker Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 6

*Hey people. This chapter is rather short, but this is all I have time to post right now. Hope it holds you over until the next update. Thanks so much for reading and liking! It means the world to me. So without further ado, here is the sixth chapter of "I'm not crazy. I'm not"*

"Why did you even bother buying food for us? I thought helping the 'criminally insane' was something you weren't willing to do," the blonde woman known as Harley asked, rolling up the burger wrapper and stuffing it beneath her bed. Her blonde hair swished around, catching the fluorescent lighting. The reflection was almost blinding. 

"I said helping the criminally insane escape wasn't something I was willing to do. As for why I did it, I found out what you guys have been forced to eat," I replied, my nose scrunching up as I remembered the foul slop that could have very well been radioactive sludge. I bet the taste would have been pretty similar. 

"Well thanks, hun. Saved me a day of the stomach bug," the red headed Poison Ivy said, nodding at me. 

I nodded back in response, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the wall, hands folded over my stomach. 

"So...Az-a-le-a. What're you...uh...in for?" Joker questioned, rolling my name around in his mouth as if it had an acidic quality.

I shot him a glare, the corners of my mouth turning down almost imperceptibly. He held my gaze, unaffected by the warning relayed there.

"Some people needed to be rid of me" I said, shrugging as if that was the most uninteresting thing in the world. 

"So they put you here!?" he guffawed, his laugh echoing up and down the corridor. It was a strange laugh, not fitting the deep tones his voice tended to fall into. 

"They...trust me, to a certain degree," I uttered, thinking back to my brief escapade to the narrows. I didn't exactly leave, I more or less stepped out for some air.

"They have put their trust in you, yet they've locked you in here? I don't see why you should not betray their trust, seeing as they've betrayed yours," Bane said, resting one muscled shoulder against the glass of his door.

I shook my head, a sad smile appearing on my face. 

"Well, the thing is...I agreed to this," I  stated, gesturing toward my mangled cell, and the moldy ceiling. 

"You WHAT!?" the lanky man called Crane shouted, voice rising eight octaves with disbelief. His glasses flew off his face, flying into the far wall of his cell. He cursed silently before feeling around the floor for his, most likely, cracked spectacles. After a brief round of chuckles I answered. 

"It seemed like the perfect solution to my...predicament at the time. As well as theirs. They didn't tell me the place was this bad," I drawled, my declaration hitting home with everyone in the room.  

"So, now that you had the opportunity to escape this hell hole, why haven't you?" Ivy queried, disappearing from view. 

Presumably to go lay on Arkham's flimsy excuse of a proper bed. 

"It's not one hundred percent negative. Free room, cable, and foo- sludge," I said, earning a laugh from the infamous Edward Nigma, who was also getting ready for bed. 

Joker gave me a dubious look, to which my resolve of staying started to waver. 

"It would be nice to have an actual pillow and a meal that isn't coated in mud or drowned in grease..." I relented, tapping my chin in thought.

"It would..." Catwoman sighed, staring dreamily into space. 

"Are you sure you won't at least consider breaking us out?" Harley whined, giving me puppy dog eyes.

"No can do," I said, throwing my hands up.

"Are you sure?" Joker asked, lips curving up in a devious smile. I narrowed my eyes, instantly suspicious. 

"Very," I snapped, standing and entering my cell in the blink of an eye.

"Are you really, really sure?", Joker called from his cell, voice sing-songy and oh so annoying. 

"Yes!" I shouted back, letting my irritation show. The lights chose to shut off at this time, leaving us all in darkness. Well, that's not exactly true. I could still see faint outlines of my cell, my night vision prohibiting me from falling into pitch blackness. I thought this would be Jokers cue to zip it, but like all clowns, he - rather comedically - missed this very obvious sign.

"Are you really, really, really sure?" he questioned, snickering when I growled. I hopped onto the bed and held the pillow over my head, burying my face into the lint covered comforter. 

"Are you really, really, really, really sure?" he cackled, and I ground my teeth to prevent myself from lashing out. 

"Damn you, advanced hearing. Damn you..." I mumbled into the sheets, wishing I had ear plugs or at the very least an Ipod. 

"Az-a-le-a!" he sang when I didn't respond. I took in a huge breath, held it, counted to twenty, then released. I would not let this clown get to me. 

Little did I know the Joker was persistent– extremely persistent. The mans mind would seem to be made up of no more than fat, fluffy pocket knife wielding chickadees. But, oh boy, was I mistaken. 

He did not let something go, not even something as trivial as this until he received an answer. 

It had been two hours, two full hours, and the Joker was still pestering me about his ridiculous question. He did not quiet himself, even after multiple complaints from his fellow villains, and multiple threats from me. 

"- really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really -" he continued, taking a breath to go on.

"Fine!" I screeched, causing him to fall quiet. "I'll break you all out, alright. Just, for the love of my surgically enhanced ear drums, shut up!"

And with that, all was silent, except for a few muffled chuckles from a colorfully painted, sadistic clown.