The first thing they did was throw him into the back of a squad car. He was a bit put off; he was quite enjoying himself when he was hanging upside down from the building project, only a sturdy piece of wire noosed around his ankle that was keeping him from falling head-first onto the pavement about 20 stories below.
It was a fun ride on the way down...and then The Batman just couldn't let him finish it. The Batman didn't want to endure the coming climax of what could have been, and so he ended the ride just as soon as it had started.
That's what amused him the most: the fact that a man dressed as ridiculous as he was (if not more so) and who also crept around in the shadows just couldn't be as sinister as The Joker.
He was, after all, his moral antithesis.
The Joker chuckled to himself as he felt the squad car begin to pull out into the street. He didn't notice the nervous policeman in the driver's seat as he nervously looked behind him as he listened to the prisoner begin to laugh at nothing.
The police radio in the dashboard spewed forth scrambled orders and The Joker could only make out the words "prisoner," "Batman," and "Arkham."
"Arkham, eh?" The Joker suddenly queried loudly, making the driver and his partner slightly jump in their seats. "I could use the vacation."
The driver's partner glanced nervously at him as the car continued down the street. About an hour later, they reached the very edge of the high-rise buildings and murky alleys and continued along a desolate road that was framed by trees whose leaves were hanging loosely from their branches in the cool night air.
The Joker raised an eyebrow as they passed by a sign reading "Arkham Asylum: All visitors and employees must check in at security booth."
"Is there a valet as well?" he quipped with a low growl, smirking as he caught the quick glance of the driver as he peered into the rear-view mirror.
They approached a yellow booth where a red and white striped mechanical arm blocked their way through the gates. The security guard, a young black man with the name tag "Andrew," stepped out into the night as the policeman rolled down the window. "Is this who we've been expecting, Shephard?" he asked the driver.
"Yeah, Drew," came his answer. "Be careful with this one."
"Roll it down," Andrew commanded.
"Drew -" Shephard began to warn.
"The window. Roll it down."
Shephard swallowed hard as he slowly rolled down The Joker's window, stopping the very top of the glass just below his chin. "Don't worry, Drew. His wrists are cuffed behind him."
"I'm not scared of this freak," Andrew remarked as he looked into The Joker's painted eyes. He began to write and scratch information onto the clipboard in his hand, but stopped when he heard the new inmate's throaty chuckle. "What's so goddamn funny, clown?"
The Joker licked his bottom lip. "I was just, uh...thinking...if we needed to tip you. I mean...Arkham can't be paying you much if you're just sitting in a booth for eight straight hours." Andrew merely sighed in annoyance as The Joker continued, "I'd tip you myself, but I'm afraid I've burned through all my money. Haha!"
The Joker bit his lip and then curled it into a devilish grin. "Your wife must hate that you work the night shift...Andrew Knurek."
The guard's body tensed but he managed to straighten his shoulders. "How do you know my name?"
"Oh, I know...lots of things...especially about Melanie...your lovely wife..." Andrew dropped his clipboard to his side as he glared menacingly at the new patient. "Do you ever wonder, Andrew...if, while you're sitting out here...alone...in your shiny booth...do you ever wonder...if your sweet Melanie is ever alone?"
