Jason was a model patient for a few days, so the staff allowed the straight jacket to be removed. When the Joker went to eat, or shower, or to his daily therapy, he was in shackles. When he was alone in his cell was the only time he was allowed out of them. Jason had figured out by now that playing by their rules would get him out of there faster. There wasn't any resources in his cell. He needed to be amongst the trusted patients that got to roam freely. It was the only way to get things that might be needed to make his escape. Though he really hopes Frost, Ace, and Harley are out there somewhere planning his break out.
There's not much to do when you're confined to a cell for twenty one and a half hours a day. They wouldn't allow him magazines, pens, pencils, not even crayons, or paper yet. So that meant that there was even less for Jason to do. He really only had three options, counting the bricks in his walls, reading the graffiti, or exercising. Today he chose to exercise. No sense in losing muscle mass while he's out of commission. After all, physical weakness never helped anyone.
He was doing his ninth superset of push-ups when he heard the lock on his cell door click. He looks up to see two guards standing there with shackles. But it wasn't time to eat, nor was it time for therapy. "You got a visitor," one of the guards shakes the shackles.
"You know the drill," the other says, "face against the wall, eyes closed, and your hands behind your back."
Jason pushes himself up. The guards couldn't help but stare at his tattoos. Jason reaches for his shirt and puts it back on. He then stands with his nose to the wall, eyes shut, hands behind him. He soon feels the cold metal going around each of his wrists. Then he feels them go around his ankles.
"Alright, move it," one of them commands and gives Jason a little shove.
Jason hadn't exactly expected to receive any visitors while he was in Arkham. "Is this visitor male or female?" Jason asks with a smile.
"Male," comes the flat answer from one of the two guards behind him.
Jason's smile dissipates, that meant it wasn't Harley in some disguise. But perhaps it was Frost or Ace. He hopes it is, he was ready to get out of Arkham.
So they take him through the hallways, his chains clinking across the tile floor. They take him to an area where the visitations were held. They take him to a room. Inside was a table and two chairs. Nothing more, nothing less. The two guards push him down in a chair and chain him to the floor. Then they both leave.
Jason carefully takes in his surroundings, taking little mental notes of everything. His curiosity is going crazy trying to figure out who had come to see him. He half expected Bruce to come walking in. He actually hoped it wasn't Bruce. He felt very awkward around Bruce knowing how he cared for J. He felt like Bruce was checking him out or trying to touch him as he had J.
Moments later a man is shown in. Jason immediately recognized him from the news. After J killed D.A. Alday, his office went to the A.D.A. Sarah Jenkins. She resigned after only a few months, because the Mayor was pushing her to go after the Joker. A man named Daryl Dupree became the new D.A. And that's who Jason was looking at. Jason noted that his suit was cheap. The smell of his cologne as he passed smelled cheap too. He takes a seat across from Jason and tries to hide his nervousness.
"Good morning Mr. Joker, my name is Daryl Dupree, District Attorney for the city of Gotham," he says as he lays a folder on the table in front of him.
"Yes, how may I be of assistance?" Jason's green brows furrow in confusion, not knowing why he was here to see him.
"I thought I would get a jump-start on your upcoming competency hearing," he says and flips open the folder.
"My competency hearing? Whatever do you mean?" Jason stares at him playing stupid.
"Oh, don't worry, this technically isn't on the record. You don't have to play dumb," the D.A. says as his eyes read over something in the file.
"Did you just call me dumb?" Jason asks lowly with narrowed eyes.
The D.A. shakes his head as he scribbled something on a notepad. "I wouldn't begin to call a man of your IQ dumb, I was merely alluding to your reaction over your hearing as dumb."
"Why exactly are you here if this is all supposedly off the record?" Jason asks.
"Well, it's my duty, as prosecutor to share all evidence with the defense lawyer. In your most recent crimes that made it to the bench, you represented yourself. That's correct, isn't it?" He finally looks up at Jason.
"Yeah," Jason looks at him with suspicion. Jason doubts his intentions. What was this guy really playing at?
"Very well then," the D.A. looks back down at the file. His finger travels across a few lines of print as he reads silently to himself. "As I'm sure you know, we don't have any actual physical items to attest to your sanity, only affidavit's from several eye witnesses."
Eye witnesses huh? Well Jason planned to gouge the eyes from these supposed eye witnesses. "Is that so?" He asks.
The D.A. lays a page in front of Jason, "The first is a Carol Lundy, a former stripper in one of your clubs. Do you remember her?"
Jason rolls his eyes, "I don't usually bother getting their names."
"Well Miss Lundy states that she took you to her apartment one night after work. She claims that the two of you had sex. She states that your behavior was very normal. She goes on to even state that she found you to be quite sweet, saying that you were very polite, and even sent her a dozen roses the next day. Is that correct? " the D.A. asks.
"Do you really expect me to remember every stripper I go home with?" Jason stares unamused.
"Moving on then," the D.A. says and lays another page in front of Jason. "Ben Kingsley, a former henchman of yours. He's currently serving a life sentence in Black Gate. He states that you admitted to him that you only pretend to be crazy."
Jason smirks, "And you believe him? I don't make it a habit of discussing such personal matters with the hired help."
The D.A. simply shrugs and lays another page before him. "William Tellermen, another former employee of yours. He was a bouncer at one of your clubs. He states to overhearing a conversation between you and Oswald Cobblepot. He says the two of you were laughing about some of the lies you had both told to be sent to Arkham and not prison."
Jason sits up straight and gives the D.A. a droll look. "Have you ever met Oswald?"
"No," the D.A. shakes his head as he reads over the next affidavit, "I've never met him."
"I'm sure I do look pretty sane standing next to him," Jason says. "I don't think he was properly weened from his mother's tit."
"Next is a Connie Samuels, a waitress at a five star restaurant in North Gotham. She claims to have served you many times, as you always sat in her section. She says that you always seemed quite alert and cognitive. She says you would tip her quite nicely when she blatantly flirted with you," the D.A. tells him.
"Well, believe it or not, I've never done too shabby in the lady department. You'd be surprised how many women would gladly jump in my bed," Jason says, completely lying.
"I think I'd rather not think of those things," the D.A. shakes his head in disbelief. "Moving on. Next up is Gabe Echol. You held him hostage during as escape from Gordon's M.C.U. lockup. He claims that your escape plan was far too intricate for someone who was mentally ill."
"I just bet it did look intricate to the idiot who didn't think of it," Jason rolls his eyes.
The D.A. lays down the next page. "Sonya Noble. A victim of yours. She was at a bank you robbed. She claims that you gave orders to your men, controlled the crowd, and stormed a vault, and collected items of value from everyone. She said you were cool, calm, and collected, and showed great concentration. As you left you approached her and asked you why you weren't smiling. You then proceeded to spray her with a gas, your Joker venom, from the carnation on your suit."
Jason grins, "Some people just don't know how to smile. You try to help them and they turn around and stab you in the back."
"And finally," the D.A. lays down the last affidavit, "Bruce Wayne."
Jason's stomach dropped as his eyes fell on the page. He honestly couldn't believe his eyes. Bruce was testifying against J? Maybe he was doing it because he thought J killed him. Bruce was acting like a typical scorned lover. Normally Jason wouldn't mind, but he was acting as Joker and had to deal with all of the consequences he left behind.
"I'm sure you know Bruce Wayne, his face is in the tabloids enough," the D.A. huffs, "He states that he once held you prisoner and tried to rehabilitate you because he felt Arkham wasn't putting forth the effort you required to get better. He says that the two of you shared many conversations. Conversations that were deep, meaningful, a coherent. He says that you seemed quite sane and that he found himself understanding that your Joker persona is merely an act. He says that behind it all is a man who's hurting. He thinks that a brain tumor is to blame for your criminal behavior."
Jason sighs and mumbles under his breath, "Hell hath no fury..." he then looks up at the D.A.
"That's all the affidavits. I also have an order here for you to be evaluated by one of the prosecution's psychiatrists. Also you'll be seen by one of our neurologists to assess the tumor and it's side effects." The D.A. lays down both orders. "And that's all I have for you. Those copies are yours," the D.A. stands and straightens his cheap suit. "Have a pleasant day sir," he cordially nods and goes to the door to be let out.
When he leaves Jason let's out the breath he was holding. He stares down at the prosecution's order for a psychiatrist and neurologist. The neurologist would do an extensive MRI of his brain. And he wouldn't find a tumor. Jason knows that he would be made as the imposter he was. He couldn't let them give him an MRI. He had to get the hell out of this place.
The guards come and take him back to his cell. As soon as the door shut Jason began nervously pacing his cell. He searched for anything that might have been faulty in his cell. There wasn't a single default in the construction. He searches every nook and cranny for anything to use to pick the lock on his cell. He had learned how to pick several styles of locks as a kid. He'd successfully broken into many cars and stolen stereo systems.
He could find absolutely nothing to aid in his escape. Damnit, where was Frost? Were they coming for him? What could be taking them so long? His mind starts going over all the ways J escaped from this place. Perhaps he could recreate one of them. He had to try. He was running out of time. If they did the MRI it would all be over. He couldn't let that happen.