This story is a birthday present that is six years overdue. Happy Birthday to Lauralot, who is not only a gifted and creative writer, but a good soul and a dear friend. (Apologies for typos from insomnia.)

* RIGHT FOOT RED *

. . . . . . .

"Listen up, men! We have a Code Purple!"

All activity in the men's employee locker room at Arkham Asylum came to an abrupt halt. Two large men standing by their open lockers traded incredulous glances before turning their attention to the hospital's chief administrator. Another sizable man who had just finished showering stood by a bench, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and a look of disbelief on his face. Over a dozen other men all turned their faces toward the door. An unseen voice piped up from the back of the group. "What was that?"

They all knew what the term meant. They just didn't want to believe that the situation that merited the term had actually come to fruition.

Dr. Palmater cleared his throat, and continued his announcement. "You've all been trained for this, but tonight, it's not a drill. I don't need to remind any of you how critical it is that you remain vigilant at all times. I repeat, this is not a practice run. Tonight, it's the real deal."

Grunts of frustration echoed off the rusted metal lockers and the mildew-spotted tile floor. Low exclamations of "son of a bitch" and "God damn it" passed through the group, as every guard about to take the 6:00pm shift cursed his luck for having been scheduled for the night.

Understanding the wariness, the administrator tried to placate the tension. "As stipulated in your training, each of you will earn time-and-a-half for the duration of your shift."

A burly man in his early fifties spoke up. "Time-and-a-half? That's all our safety's worth, a lousy extra twelve bucks an hour?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

Dr. Palmater stepped forward to look at the guard's name on his uniform. "Hank," he read over the rim of his glasses, "I understand your frustration."

Hank scoffed. "Oh, yeah? Are you gonna be out there on the floor with us? Or, are you gonna be safely tucked behind a locked office door, watching everything from closed circuit cameras?"

He dodged the question entirely, clearing his throat again out of nervous tension. "As it's Wednesday, you all know that Community Game Night starts at seven PM sharp, in barely an hour. Each of you will need to be in your stations by six forty-five."

A younger guard in his mid-twenties named Brendan stepped forward. "It was his lawyer, wasn't it?"

The room fell silent and all eyes turned to Brendan, as they weighed the gravity of his words.

His lawyer.

The young man shook his head in disappointment. "His lawyer found a loophole, didn't he? That's why this is happening tonight."

Now all faces turned back to the administrator, apprehensive of a confirmation.

Dr. Palmater frowned, and closed his eyes. He nodded once in defeat.

More expressions of disbelief wafted up in the room, along with slurs of "fuckin' lawyers" and other crude derisive remarks.

Brendan spread his arms out wide. "Really? Because of some lawyer's slick legal tricks, the Joker is allowed in the common room with the rest of the patients?"

The administrator pursed his lips and nodded. He didn't like it any more than the rest of them, for the potential liability it posed for the entire hospital and the patients. His concern wasn't as much for anyone's physical safety, although that was the concern on everyone else's mind. He was thinking of the hospital's bottom line, and didn't want unnecessary lawsuits. "Game Night is a trial run, of sorts. Depending on how that goes, it could be a regular occurrence." He hoped it wouldn't.

The young guard shook his head in frustration. "So, now the safety of every patient and staff member in the hospital is on our shoulders, along with our own." He motioned to the other guards.

Dr. Palmater countered, "The patients' safety is your concern every night."

"You know what I mean." Brendan was visibly as upset as the rest of the guards. "Tonight it's different."

"We have to comply with these amended terms of his incarceration, or the ACLU will be all over us."

Hank addressed his fellow guards. "What kind of a scumbag lawyer would defend the Joker, anyway?"

"This is a Code Purple!" The administrator was adamant in his correction. "That's how we're referring to this situation. Don't use his name, especially not in the common areas. I suggest you start practicing that immediately."

Brendan rolled his eyes and stood arms akimbo. It didn't matter what term was used to describe the psychopath, or the situation they all found themselves in.

The Joker was the Joker.

No euphemism would ever change that. No matter what he was called, he was still the most dangerous criminal in Gotham's history. The Joker had been checked in officially as a patient only three months earlier, after being apprehended by the Batman before he could blow up two ferries' worth of citizens as part of what he playfully referred to as a 'social experiment'. Given the danger that such a volatile patient posed to the staff and everyone else, special training was required of all hospital staff, despite the fact that they already had more than their share of hostile patients.

In addition to extensive staff training, the doctors and administrators had to put their heads together to forecast all scenarios they could find themselves in, having the Joker as a patient. Out of the brainstorming, the term Code Purple was created in jest as a name for the improbable circumstance in which the Joker was allowed to mingle with the other patients in the common areas of the asylum.

On the advice of Arkham's lawyers, the term made no reference to the Joker's name, and was intended to be vague so that when announced over the hospitals' PA system, any patient or visitor wouldn't become alarmed. His name alone was enough to send some patients into fits of anxiety, so they had to select a term that would minimize both the likelihood of patients being terrorized and the proclivity of the other patients' lawyers suing the hospital for reckless endangerment. Even the staff wasn't allowed to say the Joker's name during a Code Purple situation. They were only to refer to him as 'Purple'.

Despite the required procedural modifications to manage a Code Purple situation, and all the precautions and rules that were drafted to govern one, no one ever thought the asylum would actually need to use it.

They had underestimated how underhanded a fame-hungry defense lawyer can get.

Dr. Palmater held a clipboard up for everyone to see. "See me as you exit. I will give you your assigned station for the night."

"Letting the Joker participate in Game Night," Brendan shook his head. "There aren't enough words to describe just how bad an idea this is."

The administrator looked at him and shrugged. There was nothing to be done. The Joker's lawyer had won a motion on behalf of his client. Legally, they had no recourse. It didn't matter that common sense never would have permitted such a situation to pass.

At five minutes before seven, four asylum guards entered the Joker's cell, armed with batons and mace. Brendan stood watch by the door, two other guards were holding a straight jacket, and Hank was holding a plastic bag.

The Joker was lying back on his bed, drumming his fingers on his chest from pent up energy. "You're late."

Brendan refuted the charge. "No, we're not."

Hank shot him a look. Don't engage with him. He stepped forward and handed the plastic bag to the Joker, scowling at him. "We've been instructed to give these back to you."

The Joker swung his legs over the edge of the bed and swiped the bag, turning it upside down to allow the contents to clatter out onto dingy sheets. He shook the bag again, to make sure it was empty.

"What, no mirror?"

All the guards frowned at him.

He opened the tin of white grease paint and started applying it to his face in broad strokes.

Brendan pursed his lips and shook his head in amazement. It was bad enough that the Joker's lawyer had found a way to claim that his client's civil liberties were being violated, by keeping him from participating in Game Night with the other patients. Yet he'd also won the Joker the right to wear his make up inside the hospital. Letting the clown wear face paint in a common area seemed to undermine the whole concept behind Code Purple, which was intended to obscure his presence. From the guards' point of view, everything about this undertaking seemed to defy logic.

It turned out that the clown didn't need a mirror. He knew exactly how much paint went where, and the dimensions of skin to apply it to. With his face now a garish contrast of white, black and red, he stood up proudly and held out his arms. "How do I look?"

Hank ignored the question and motioned with his hand toward the restraining garment. "Into the jacket."

"Do you have one in a different color? Something more festive? I'm feeling a plaid vibe tonight."

"I said, get into the jacket. If you don't cooperate, you don't go."

The Joker looked squarely at him. A knowing smile crossed his face, and it unsettled the guard significantly. "I guess I better get dressed, then."

"No threats, no rash movements, and no resisting. If you make a motion that appears aggressive toward any one of us, we have full authority to restrain you using all methods at our disposal." Up to and including a gang beat-down beyond the point of bloody unconsciousness.

The Joker stepped forward as the guards helped him thread his arms into the sleeves of the straight jacket. He smiled broadly, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet with excited anticipation. The movement was making it difficult to thread the straps through the buckle frames, and getting the buckle prongs into the holes was even more challenging.

"Hold still, or we'll consider your behavior uncooperative and hostile." Brendan tried to speak with as much authority he could muster. Despite the size advantage he had on the patient, when the Joker turned to glare at him, he could feel himself physically wither a bit from fear. The clown slightly tipped his head as he examined Brendan. It was clear the guard was younger than he was by a few years, which made the attempt at an authoritative projection comical.

"What's your name?" The Joker poked his tongue out of the right side of his mouth, then drew it back in like a snake.

Brendan pointed to his uniform's name patch. "Brendan."

"You don't look like a Brendan. You look like a Hobie."

Brendan scrunched his face up in disapproval. "What?"

Hank opened the door. "C'mon, we've got to move. His lawyer says he gets the full length of time for Game Night." He looked directly at the Joker. "You walk at an even pace between us, got it? No running, no stopping and no kicking."

A faint smile played on the Joker's lips. "Ohhhh. Kaaaaaaaay." His drew his answer out in a sing-song taunt.

Brendan stepped out to lead the way. Two other guards flanked the Joker, and Hank guarded the group from the back. They walked down the corridor, as curious patients peered through the windows of their rooms. Multiple sets of doors buzzed as automatic locks unlatched, allowing passage from one section of the hospital to another. Along the way, multiple guards were stationed as lookouts, should the Joker attempt to harm any of the free-roaming hospital staff. All of them watched him warily as he passed by.

The sound of five sets of feet walking changed when one of the men started to shuffle. The Joker was purposely keeping his feet in tact with the floor to produce an annoying swiping sound with his soft-soled hospital-issued shoes.

"Enough of that." Hank was watching him from behind.

"I'm following directions. You didn't say I couldn't scuff the floor."

"Don't scuff the floor."

The Joker returned to a normal gait, as they passed through another set of locked doors. Then he popped up on the balls of his feet, taking fast, short paces by stabbing at the floor with intention, making squeaking noises with each dig.

"Knock that off!" Hank secretly hoped that the clown wouldn't. He'd love an excuse to crack his baton over the monster's head. To his chagrin, the patient returned to a normal pace.

After a few steps, the Joker started to skip.

"I will split your skull if you don't straighten up!" Hank's hand was resting on his baton's handle.

"That's not hospital protocol, Hank." The Joker licked his lips. "I get three verbal warnings per offense, then you can mace me, and then you get to beat me." He looked over his shoulder to see Hank behind him. "You don't get to start with the good stuff, as much as you'd like to. And, for the record, you never said that skipping wasn't allowed."

"No skipping, you son of a bitch."

"What if my feet hurt? Can Hobie give me a piggy back ride?"

Brendan looked back over his shoulder at the Joker with frustration, fed up with the taunts, and fueled by a homophobic fear of any other man touching him. He pulled his meaty arm back to throw a punch, but stopped. He looked at Hank, seeking permission to allow the strike. Hank looked around to confirm they were out of security camera range, then he nodded. Brendan threw a solid hit into the Joker's stomach. The force of the blow doubled the patient over as he grunted. It sounded like he was gasping for air, but the sounds changed into peals of laughter. The clown stood up and laughed through the pain, while Brendan looked at him in awestruck confusion. Hank motioned for Brendan to turn around and keep walking.

The Joker and his escorts made the lengthy ascent from the bottom level of the hospital up to the ground level, where the recreation room had been decorated for Game Night. A few forest green and gold streamers had been hung in an anemic attempt to liven the gray room up, and someone with horrid penmanship had tried to paint a sign on an easel proclaiming that it was Game Night.

Announcements were being read over the PA system in a soothing female voice, broadcast throughout the entire asylum. There was the reminder of Wednesday's Game Night. There was a reminder of courtesy rules to follow at the meds windows. Then came the reminder that visiting hours had been cancelled for the evening. Then there was a reference to a Code Purple, effective through the rest of the evening. Finally came a reminder that no food was allowed outside of the cafeteria.

The Joker smiled, then bit his lips as he tried to stifle a bout of laughter. It was obvious that his foray into the common area prompted the cancelling of visiting hours, and that Code Purple was Arkham's insipid way of communicating his own free-roaming status in the asylum, without alerting anyone outright. It was a ridiculous attempt to stem a panic.

Brendan heard the repressed snickering, then turned around to look at the patient. "What's so funny?"

"When we get to the game room, I'll show you first-hand, Hobie."

"That's not my name!"

Another set of locked doors buzzed open.

As they walked through, the Joker spoke up. "When I was a kid, there was a dog that lived down the street from us, named Hobie. He had only three legs."

The doors locked behind them.

The Joker smiled. "You remind me of him."

Brendan glanced over at Hank in frustration, then back at the Joker as he rested his hand on his can of mace. "Why's that? You think I'm dumb as a dog?"

The Joker shook his head. "No, that's not why."

Dark malice flashed in the clown's eyes.

The door to the recreation room opened, and the Joker sauntered in and immediately scanned the room. Two guards unfastened his straight jacket, and when he stepped out, they took it outside, leaving the Joker with Hank and Brendan. He started circling his arms in wide arcs to test his freedom from the restraining garment, then he stretched each arm across his chest. He bounced on the balls of his feet and shook out his wrists. He did the same for each foot, circling his ankles a bit before finally coming to stillness.

The room was fairly quiet, although it had well over fifty patients in it. The majority of the patients were staring at the newcomer, most of them with their mouths hanging open. Some knew who he was, but the ones who didn't stared out of fascination over his painted face. Still other patients were oblivious to his arrival, either because they were focusing on a game they were already playing, or they were too lost in their own illness to notice their surroundings much at all.

The silence was cleaved by the sound of the Joker cracking his neck, by dipping his head down to each shoulder, giving him a better range of mobility.

"Don't get any funny ideas," Hank warned in a low voice, so as not to scare the other patients.

The Joker slowly turned to look at him, with a broad smile on his face. He answered in kind. "Don't you know who I am? All I have are funny ideas." He winked, then turned back to face the room. "Relax. I'm just getting myself warmed up. I'm looking forward to a rousing game of full-contact Boggle."

"You'll refrain from touching any of the other patients, Joker." Brendan made an effort to stand with his shoulders back as he spoke.

The Joker glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. "You speak with the authority of a mall cop."

The Joker stood for a moment with his arms akimbo, looking around at all the faces staring at him. He raised his right hand into the air, fingers spread wide. "Hi, everybody!" He waved his entire arm with the enthusiasm of a little kid waving at a costumed character at Disneyland. "I'm the 'Code Purple' they've been talking about on the PA system!"

Hank shook his head. "Jesus." So much for the attempt to keep the clown's presence a secret.

"They don't want to say my name, because they're afraid that I might send people into hysterics, so that's my code name. I don't think I'm allowed to say who I really am, so don't ask me. It's top secret." He turned to look back at Hank. "See? I'm complying with your rules. I'm playing nice."

A nervous man with a cardigan stood up. "You're the Joker, aren't you?"

"Uh…nnnnnnnooooooo. No, I'm not." Another glance back to Hank to show obedience, with a thumbs up.

The Joker turned back to look at the man. Hank stood squarely behind him, and couldn't see his face. The clown mouthed the words: "YES. I. AM." A swipe of his tongue confirmed it.

The man in the cardigan opened his mouth and screamed, and he urinated in his pants in front of everyone. His arms were pressed at his sides, fists balled, and he shrieked over and over. A nurse came over to aid him. "Now Steven, we talked about this. There's nothing to be afraid of."

He pointed at the Joker. "He's a clown!" More crying.

The nurse knew she wasn't allowed to confirm anything about clowns or the Joker to any of the patients. "No, Steven, he's not a clown. He's dressed up as… a ghost."

That did no favor to four other patients, who then also joined in the screaming. A team of nurses came into quell the panic, and the Joker began ambling around the room, weaving in and out of the clusters of activity, looking at the other patients. Many of them had mental challenges that were quite visible on the surface, others looked lost and a few just looked sad. Few looked normal, with the exception of rigid looking man sitting by himself along the wall, and a young red-haired woman who was sitting on a couch. She was studying him intently, which immediately caught his eye. Eager for play, the Joker made a beeline for her, and plopped himself down on the couch to her right, nearly bouncing her clean off her cushion.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii." He smiled in sly manner.

She pulled back apprehensively, but she couldn't contain her curiosity. "Hi." She flashed a quick smile, then looked around to see if she would get in trouble for talking to him.

"What's your name, Jellybean?" He stretched his arms out along the length of the back of the couch, one of them behind her.

"Lauren." Her eyes followed his left hand as it came dangerously close to touching the back of her neck.

"You know who I am?" He dipped his chin down to his chest and raised his eyebrows.

An electric thrill shot through her. "Yes." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "You're the Joker."

"Bingo, doll." He winked at her, and leaned in closer. "So… what did you do, to land in here, hmmm?"

"A tenant in my apartment building was torturing and killing alley cats in the basement. I followed him into a club one night and a poisoned his drink."

He nodded in approval. "Did he die?"

"No," Lauren frowned. "He recovered from his coma, but now he has a permanent face palsy and he needed a kidney transplant."

"Ah. Ethylene glycol."

Her eyes brightened. "Yes!"

"Next time, mix in some crushed Ambien." He reached out and took a lock of her hair and began twisting it around his finger.

Brendan took a few steps forward. "Hey, there's no touching!"

The Joker rolled his eyes and raised his hands in the air. "Look, I'm not touching, see?" He looked at Lauren, speaking in a raised voice for the guards to hear. "Did I touch you?"

Lauren looked over at the guards and shook her head. "No, he hasn't. I'm fine." She wasn't about to say anything that could get him in trouble, assuming it wouldn't fare well for her.

"Yeah, see? I told you I'm not touching her." He nodded while looking at Hank. Then he lowered his arms to rest on the couch back again. "See? Still not touching her." Once Hank looked away, the Joker quickly leaned uncomfortably close to her face. He lowered his voice. "Would you like me to touch you?" The left corner of his mouth hitched back in a smirk.

All she could focus on was the scars.

Her heart started pounding out of her chest. He was a shock of black eyes and red lips and yellow teeth behind a broad smile. He was charming and terrifying at the same time. He was the most dangerous man in a metro area of thirty million people, and he was inches away from her. She fumbled for words, having no idea how to politely decline the advances of a psychopathic clown.

Tasting her fear, he asked another question. "You like to play games, Lauren?" His tongue swiped out over his lips, and he quickly jumped to his feet in front of her. "I do." He was straddling her legs with his, then he leaned forward to rest his hands on the couch back on either side of her head. "Wanna play with me?" He tilted his head coyly to the side.

Brendan stepped forward with his can of mace drawn. "Back away from her now!"

The Joker pushed off the couch, springing back and landing with his arms in his air like a gymnast finishing a dismount. He addressed the entire room with gusto. "Who wants to play Chutes and Ladders?" As he walked away, Lauren became aware of her own breathing coming in short, terrified bursts.

He went with purpose to a bookshelf stacked with numerous board games in tattered and worn boxes. He pulled all of them off the shelf and loaded them in his arms, then walked straight out into the center of the floor and let them all drop in a heap unceremoniously.

An old man in a rocking chair pointed at the heap of games, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Fire hydrant!"

The Joker looked up, pointed at him and shouted back. "Clam bake!"

Lauren couldn't stifle a laugh, and another patient inquired if there were lobster boats outside.

Ignoring the lunacy around him, he got down playfully and crossed his legs Indian style, spreading boxes out all over the place. A dozen curious patients timidly tiptoed up to see the selection of games. Some of them just came forward to look at the clown.

"That's not it… not that one… hey, where's Chutes and Ladders?"

An old lady stepped forward, wearing a robe over her pajamas, a shower cap on her head and blue fuzzy slippers. She bent over and smiled at the Joker. "You look like a raccoon. Aren't you just a cutie patootie?" She reached out and started petting his head.

The Joker weakly smiled and curled his lips in. "Uh… yeah… I'm not a raccoon." He didn't mind having his head petted, though. He tilted his head down. "Ooh, there, behind the ear."

"No touching the other patients!" Hank shot him a warning look.

The Joker pointed at the woman's arm. "She's touching me. See? I can't control how people respond to my animal magnetism." He smiled at his own pun.

The woman straightened up and fumbled in her robe pockets. "I like to feed all the critters in my yard. I think have something for raccoons. Let me see if there's trail mix in my purse."

The Joker's eyebrows lifted. "With M&M's?"

"I think so, honey. Let me check."

"Seriously, why can't I find Chutes and Ladders?"

A nurse spoke up in the back of the room. "Other people are already playing that game." She pointed to a wiry old man and a middle-aged woman sitting at a card table. "You'll need to wait your turn."

That concept was lost on the Joker.

He got to his feet and invited himself up to the table, spinning a folding chair around to sit in it backwards, arms resting on the table. He picked up a cardboard player of a little girl in a pink dress. The head had been chewed off. "Who's winning?"

"I am." The woman pointed to her figure that was on square fifty-seven.

"Don't worry, I'll catch up." The Joker spun the dial and got a six. As he counted, he tapped his player on each square with purpose. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!" His game piece was at the bottom of a chute. He slid it up the chute to land on square sixteen.

"No, you can't go up a slide." The old man wrinkled his forehead at the Joker.

"It's not called a 'slide'. You have to call it a 'chute". Otherwise the game would be called 'Slides and Ladders'. I'm not staying on sixteen, anyway. I'm going to fourteen, where the cake is." He moved his piece to a square of a girl proudly displaying a cake she had just baked, and pretended that his piece was eating it. "Om nom nom nom nom!"

He reached over and flicked the spinner again.

"It's not your turn!" The woman's voice was decidedly snippy.

The Joker shrugged. "My player is hungry, so she gets another turn."

He got a four. "One! Two! Three! Four!" He advanced three squares, then jumped up a row to land on square twenty-four, where a crying boy was next to a broken cookie jar. "Om nom nom nom nom nom! She likes cookies."

"Maybe you should be playing Candy Land instead." The old man looked at him inquisitively.

The woman shook her head with frustration. "No, no! You can't jump up rows like that. Those aren't the rules!"

He affected childlike petulance. "You're not the boss of me." He started walking his character around the board without even spinning the dial. He moved to square forty-nine to let his character eat the box of chocolates, then down to square thirty-six to eat a sandwich with a glass of milk, then finally up to square ninety-one to eat an ice cream sundae. "Okay, she's full, and I'm done. Next!" He knocked his chair over as he stood up to search for another distraction.

As he walked away, the rigid looking man on the side of the room studied him with fascination, but said nothing. The Joker looked him up and down casually, then kept moving. The sound of dice rattling in a cup caught his attention, and he walked over to three patients studying the faces of five dice that had just been rolled. There were two threes, two fives and one six.

The Joker couldn't resist yelling at the top of his lungs. "YAHTZEE!"

All the players jumped in surprise, and one man screamed.

"Hey!" Hank shot him a warning look from the side of the room, hand on the handle of his baton.

"What?" The Joker shrugged his shoulders. "That's what you do when you play Yahtzee."

"But, that's not a Yahtzee." One of the men turned his face up to the clown. "You can't yell that if you don't roll a Yahtzee. You just lost."

"I'm not even playing, dumb dumb. How can I lose if I'm not playing?"

One of the disoriented patients at the table pointed squarely at the clown. "Because of cornstarch!"

The Joker paused. "Good argument."

The man holding the Yahtzee cup wasn't finished chastising him. "You can't just yell 'Yahtzee'."

"I can yell whatever I want, Yahtzee Nazi." To demonstrate, he raised his voice. "Harvey Dent is dead! Commissioner Gordon is a fraud!"

"Hey, shut up!" Brendan was feeling emboldened the longer he was in the room.

The Joker made no show of having heard him. "Mayor Garcia likes to role play sexually that he's Batman!"

The disoriented man's eyes widened. "Is Mayor Garcia Batman?"

"No."

"Are you Batman?"

The Joker looked directly in the man's face. "Do I look like Batman?"

"You look like a vampire."

"Good to know."

The confused patient nodded. "And vampires turn into bats, so you are Batman, aren't you?"

The Joker pinched the bridge of his nose. You just can't argue with crazy. "Sure. Why not? I'm Batman."

"Where's the tank you drive?"

"Parked at your house."

The man blinked. "My house? Why?"

"Because I just did your wife. It was memorable."

The man looked up at the ceiling. "But my wife's dead."

"Yeah. I said it was memorable. Bats are into kink. Everyone knows that."

"Well, if you're a vampire, then I guess sleeping with dead people makes sense."

He sauntered around the table, looking at each player's Yahtzee scorecard. The Joker had heard one of the nurses talking to a dopey looking man at the table earlier, so he knew the patient had pica. That presented the clown far too many opportunities for mischief, as he sized up the man's poor game showing, by his Yahtzee scorecard. The Joker leaned over. "You know how you can keep from losing?"

"How?" The man's eyes widened with hope.

The Joker leaned down and whispered something in the man's ear, then turned and walked away. As he did so, the man swiped a die and stuck it in his mouth. He triumphantly swallowed it. The other players pointed and yelled in protest.

The Joker picked Monopoly out of the pile of board game. "Is anyone good at this game?" Three patients sat down on the floor to join him. "Who wants to be the banker?"

A timid, small man raised his hand. He was staring at the Joker, totally awestruck. The Joker shoved the money in his direction. "You pass out the money. What's your name?"

The man startled trembling with excitement. "Barker."

The Joker blinked. Seriously? "Hmm, Barker the Banker. That fits." He leaned forward. "Be sure to, uh… give me more money than the other players, m'kay?"

Barker nodded silently, completely giddy with excitement.

A woman was fumbling through the game tokens. She pushed aside the wheelbarrow and picked up the dog.

"NO!" The Joker pointed at her accusatorily. "I get to be the dog." He held out his hand for the woman to place it in his palm. She held the dog protectively up by her throat.

Brendan and Hank traded looks on the other side of the room. Hank glared at the Joker.

The clown acknowledged the silent rebuke from the guard. Gritting his teeth, he forced a smile as he picked up a different piece, holding it out to her. "Wouldn't you rather be the shoe, lady? All women love shoes."

She looked at it suspiciously, then shook her head.

He smiled even broader, nodding his head, as if he accepted her refusal. As soon as Hank looked elsewhere, the Joker leaned over to the woman and lowered his voice. "You are going to give me the dog, or I will slit your throat, crack open your head, crawl into your skull like a rat and eat your brains from the inside out, before I possess your soul and mail pieces of your rotting corpse to your family in UPS packets."

The woman's lips trembled and her eyes welled with tears as she held out the dog. He picked it up and put the shoe in her hand in exchange. Hank was watching him again. He exaggerated his polite reaction by nodding with gentile civility. "I graciously thank you!" He bowed his head, dramatically rolling his wrist to show an open palm of placation.

The woman got up and walked over to a corner where she got down on the floor, pressed her forehead to the wall and started to cry.

Lauren found her courage to come join the game. She sat down and picked up the iron as her playing piece. The Joker announced he was first up, as if there would be any question. He rolled the dice and got a seven, but kept advancing the dog to the end of the board. "Now I'm in jail."

The bossy Chutes and Ladders woman leaned over him. "No, you can visit jail, but you can't be in jail."

"I can if I'm going to blow it up."

"No, you can't be there until you get sent to jail."

"Jail is fun. I've had a few adventures in jail before."

Barker rolled next and got a five, landing on Reading Railroad. "I'll buy that." After putting money in the bank, he pulled out the card, but the Joker swiped it from him. "Thanks for the present. Choo choo!" He scooted the property card across the board.

Lauren rolled a ten, and smiled as she moved to the same square as the Joker. "I guess I'm visiting you in jail."

"It's a conjugal visit." He wagged his eyebrows at her.

Lauren flushed crimson, and looked at her lap uncomfortably.

"There!" The Joker pointed at Lauren, but spoke to Barker. "Did you see what I just did there?"

Barker's eyes were wide. "You made her feel shy?"

"No, I distracted you while I robbed the bank." Stacks of Monopoly money and property cards rested in his hands. He stuffed them down his shirt as he stood up and walked off.

The old woman in the blue fuzzy slippers returned. "Here you go, pumpkin. Here's that trail mix I found." She held out her hand to present several small plastic poker chips.

"Gosh, thanks! This is swell."

Now that he was standing, he could see just how small she was at around 5'1". She reached up her hand for his head, and he bent down so she could pet him again. After allowing her a few head pats, he wandered over to pica man. "Here." He handed him the poker pieces. It was like feeding a slot machine. He swallowed each piece one by one. Then the Joker handed him the Baltic Avenue card, plus a few pink five dollar Monopoly bills. He ate those as well.

The Joker moved on, looking at the tacky decorations above his head. He reached up and pulled down the ugly streamers, looping them loosely around his shoulders multiple times for their length.

"Don't pull those down," one of the nurses scolded him.

"Just did."

He walked over to another table where an old board game of Sorry was set up. Two older women were playing. The Joker walked over and bumped into one of the chairs. "Sorry." Then he kicked the table. "Sorry." Then he bumped the other woman's chair. "Sorry." He leaned over and flicked each game piece off the board, punctuating each movement with an exclamation. "Sorry!" Flick. "Sorry!" Flick. "Sorry!" Flick. "Sorry!" Flick.

The women looked at him with their mouths open. One of them spoke up. "You're a rude young man."

He shrugged apologetically at her. "Sorry."

Without any regard for three patients playing Scrabble on the floor, he walked right across the board and scattered tiles everywhere. He bent down and picked up a tile with a J on it. "Eight points. I'm keeping this."

One of the patients protested. He stopped in place, rolled his eyes, then looked around. "Here," he picked up a card that was near the foot of a couch, lost from an Old Maid game. "Play with this instead." The man took it, looking at the picture card of Lasso Louie with confusion.

"No, we need that J back!"

The clown turned and glared at the man. "Fine." He bent down and placed the tile on the board, shifting a few other tiles around. He left behind the message 'JOKER WAS HERE' in the middle of the board. He grabbed an E tile, and walked over to the human garbage disposal. "Here's another one for you." The man took the tile and swallowed it as well.

Two patients were playing Connect Four at a window bench. The Joker walked over, bent down and pulled out the supporting bar. Checkers scattered all over the floor. "My apologies. Here, buy yourself a new game." He pulled out a wad of Monopoly money and tossed it in the air.

Brendan narrowed his eyes at him as he walked by. The Joker looked back and flashed a menacing smile.

He walked back over to the Chutes and Ladders table where he had knocked over a metal folding chair. He picked it up and set it behind the back of an old blue couch. Then he pulled two more games off of an old credenza. One of them was the game of Mousetrap, and the other was Hungry Hungry Hippos.

He took the contents out of both boxes and spread them out on the floor, then walked over to find Lauren. He made sure the guards weren't watching him, and he took her by the wrist. "C'mon. Play with me."

He pulled her over to where he'd set up both games. "Which hippo do you want to be?"

"I'll be the yellow one." She sat down.

The man who would eat anything came over. "I'll be green."

Two others sauntered over and took the pink and the orange hippos. The Joker stood over them, officiating. "Don't start until I say you can start." He walked around the circle of patients, putting his hand on each patient's head as if he were playing Duck Duck Goose. He knelt down next to Lauren, resting along the backside of the blue couch, obscuring him slightly from the line of vision of the guards. "Okay, go!"

A cacophony of clapping noises echoed throughout the room as hippo mouths extended and grabbed marbles. The Joker feigned interest while he grabbed two long plastic supporting pieces from the game of Mousetrap. He used the clatter of the hippo game to cover up the sound of his snapping the ends off of both pieces. He stuck one in his pant leg down by his shoe, and the other inside his shirt.

The game was nearly over when he jovially told everyone to start over. He announced that the winner of the next game wasn't just the one who ate the most marbles, but the player who made the most noise. Lauren looked at him quizzically. He winked back at her. "Get loud, Jellybean."

The patients started the game over again, each player yelling with enthusiasm, and shouting taunts at each other. Taking advantage of the loud noises to cover his actions, the Joker brought the metal folding chair down behind the couch, held onto the supporting beams of the back and kicked the trim of the seat hard enough to snap it off, exposing a sharp line of metal along the back of the seat. No one heard the crack over the din of the hippo game. He rested the chair down on the ground, and spun around to watch the game, purposely making eye contact with the guards to show that he was behaving.

The serious-looking man who was watching the Joker from the side of the room saw what the Joker had done to the chair, but he didn't alert anyone. He wanted to see what was going to come of the actions.

The Joker handed a few white marbles to the man at the green hippo. "I know you're a hungry, hungry hippo. Baltic Avenue probably wasn't too filling."

The man shook his head, then swallowed three marbles, before turning his attention back to the game.

After the second game was finished, Lauren gave up her yellow hippo to scoot back by the Joker. They were both sitting with their backs up against the couch, pretending to watch the next round of marble gobbling. She looked at the sharp, exposed edge of the back of the chair's seat. It wasn't something that someone would notice from a distance, but if you knew where to look up close, you could see it.

"You're going to get into trouble if they see that." She motioned to the chair.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.

She swallowed nervously. "Sure." They were sitting next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, full contact along the length of their arms.

He leaned over and got so close, his lips touched her ear. "That's. The. Idea."

She was frozen in place, too nervous to move or to look directly at him. "What is?"

"Getting into trouble."

She began to shake involuntarily from his insinuation. "Why?"

He rested his forehead squarely on the side of her head, greasepaint rubbing off from his forehead into her hair as he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the game. "The more trouble I get into, the faster the guards will take my punishment into their own hands. They'll get more liberal with their beatings. The bolder they get, the quicker their defenses go down."

He leaned forward and looked her in the eyes, with a playful smile on his lips. "And when someone's defenses are down, that's when you strike." His smile broadened and his eyes flashed black wickedness. "Are your defenses down, Lauren? I wouldn't advise lowering your defenses around me." His tongue swiped out over his lips. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

His lascivious smile chilled her to the bone. She honestly didn't know if he were hinting of sexual misconduct or outright murder. For all she knew, they likely held the same thrill for him. She lowered her voice. "You're willing to get into trouble, and to be physically beaten… and then what? How are you going to strike?"

He tilted his head playfully. "Well, that would be telling you another secret, Lauren. Can I trust you?"

Her eyes were wide. She nodded nervously.

He glanced over to gauge where the guards were, before answering her. "Someone else in Gotham is keeping secrets. Commissioner Gordon. See… I'm going to escape. And then I'm going to draw the Batman out, and I'm going to reveal a secret that he and Commissioner Gordon have been keeping."

Lauren's mouth dropped open. "What secret?"

"That's for me to know, and the entire city of Gotham to find out, when the time is right. And you know when the time is right?"

She shook her head, not sure how to answer. "No?"

He took her chin and gave it a playful yank. "When their defenses are at their lowest. Now," he carefully stood up, keeping his eyes on the guards. "One more game to play. Up you go. C'mon, up up up!"

He helped her to her feet, then walked her to the middle of the room where there was a big open spot on the linoleum. The Joker was carrying the folding chair with the sharp edge, and he approached a morbidly obese man. "Hey, we need your help. I want you to be the president of our next game."

The lonely man's eyes lit up with appreciation. "President? What do I get to do?"

"What's your name?"

"Lars."

"Okay, Lars. Come over here with me." He led the man to the open space on the floor next to Lauren, and placed the chair down, unfolding it. "Take a seat. I'll be right back."

The Joker started whistling as he made one final pass over to the game shelf of a large bookcase, smiling at both of the guards as he did so. He grabbed a grubby, large cardboard box and brought it back out to the middle of the room. He held it up for Lars to see.

"Twister. We're going to play Twister, and we need you to spin the dial and call out the moves. That's what a president does."

Lauren furrowed her brow, knowing there was no role called "president" in the game.

The Joker spread out the Twister mat on the floor, and he took the streamers draped over his shoulders off. "Okay everyone, who wants to watch a good game of Twister? C'mon, we need a supportive audience!"

Over two dozen patients walked over. The Joker arranged the mat so that it was directly behind the chair that Lars was sitting on, with one corner angled at his back. The corner had a green circle on it. The Joker started doubling up the streamers as he played with them, and he pretended to twist them around his forearms absent-mindedly.

"But I can't see you guys if I sit in this direction."

"That's the way it works, Lars. We need you concentrating on calling out the moves. It's the most important role in the game. We can't have you distracted by what we're doing, or the game doesn't work."

The explanation didn't make sense to Lars, but he was so grateful to be included in a game that he didn't protest.

The Joker casually draped the folded, thicker streamers over his shoulders again, looping them in a manner to hide the fact that he'd fashioned a noose at one end. Then, he pulled over the whiny man who was complaining about the Yahtzee rules. "Here, buddy. To show you I bear no ill will, you get to be one of the players."

He nodded, satisfied with the invitation.

The Joker announced to the room. "Three players! I'm playing, the Yahtzee Nazi is playing, and… and Lauren here is going to be playing, too." He looked directly over at Brendan. "She's my girlfriend for tonight." He grinned and swiped his tongue out quickly along the outer corner of his left facial scar.

What?! Lauren froze. She didn't know whether to laugh or to scream.

Brendan advanced toward the group. "I said that there was no touching, Joker."

"We're just going to play a good, clean fun game of Twister. If you think my intentions with my girrrrrrrl-friennnnnd are anything less than pure, you can stand right next to us and monitor me." The Joker smiled knowingly.

The guard took the bait. "You can bet I'll be watching you."

The Joker nodded. I'm counting on it, Hobie. "Okay, Lars. Spin!"

A meaty hand spun the dial. "Left foot yellow!"

All three of them stepped into the middle of the mat. Lauren took the edge spot, and the Joker took the one right next to her, so he could look right at her from inches away. He lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "Getting into trouble is good for you. Anything can happen." He winked.

Lauren blanched, not knowing what he was up to.

"Right hand blue!"

Both Lauren and the Joker bent down and placed their hands on the mat, almost face to face. He licked his lips. "You know, you're close enough to kiss me."

Good God, is this really happening? Am I being hit on while playing Twister with the Joker? Lauren blushed and looked down at her hand, smiling nervously.

"Right hand red!"

They both moved their right hands over one row, still facing each other.

"Right foot blue!"

The Joker raised his eyebrows. "Well, didn't this just get interesting?"

Several of the spectators started to point and giggle at the contortions that were happening.

Lauren had to snake her right foot directly under the Joker's crotch to reach a blue spot. He stuck his own foot back a little further to reach a blue spot. The Yahtzee Nazi had a slightly easier range of motion. He was near the corner of the mat right behind Lars.

Brendan walked over and was standing on the edge that allowed him to look Lauren in the face. "Is he bothering you?" He motioned to the clown.

"No, not at all. I'm fine." She smiled at him.

"Left hand green!"

Lauren nearly had to lie on her back to keep all parts on the right circles, whereas the Joker had to lean forward, so he was practically on top of her.

"You know, maybe you should kiss me." He narrowed his eyes as he lowered his face toward hers. "For luck."

"Right foot red!"

The clown looked over his shoulder at the group of onlookers. "Gosh, I don't have any way to reach a red circle from where I am." The proclamation came out in a sing-song pitch. Unnervingly happy.

Then, he turned back to face Lauren, his voice dropping menacingly in pitch. "Showtime, Jellybean."

He dipped down and kissed her squarely on the mouth, catching her off guard so that she fell flat on her back on the mat.

"Hey!" Brendan couldn't believe the Joker had the audacity to kiss the young woman so brazenly.

The Joker spun around and glared at Mr. Yahtzee. "Hey, you pushed me!"

The man spun around indignantly. "No, I didn't!" He swatted at the Joker's leg.

"Yeah, you did. And I push back." The Joker reached down and pulled a long plastic Mousetrap piece out of his pant leg by his shoe. He aimed the broken, sharp edge and found his mark, jamming it into the man's neck. As the man screamed, the Joker grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, while he took the makeshift noose from thickened streamer cords off of his shoulders, throwing it around Lars' neck from behind.

Brendan dove down to attempt to grab Mr. Yahtzee away from the Joker. He latched onto the man's arm, and to gain leverage to wrest him from the Joker's grip, he planted his right foot on the green circle that was directly behind the chair Lars was on. The Joker let go of the Yahtzee Nazi, causing Brendan to fall flat on his back from too much leverage.

Then, the Joker struck.

Using both hands, he pulled on the noose as hard as he could. Lars' arms flapped out to the side as his balance faltered, and his chair tipped over as he was pulled backward by the neck. All three hundred seventy pounds tipped and crashed down, driving the sharp, exposed metal edge of the seat down onto the mat, directly onto Brendan's ankle.

Severing his right foot clean from his leg.

Agonizing screams filled the room. The Joker casually stood up, admiring the expanding puddle of blood on the Twister mat. "Okay, right foot red." He stepped forward and planted his right foot in the middle of the puddle of blood. "Now I can make that work." He bent down and picked up Brendan's severed, blood-covered foot. "I guess your right foot is red now, too. How's that for irony?" He threw his head back and started cackling.

Hank ran at him in a panic, unsure of whether to assist Brendan first, Mr. Yahtzee or to tackle the clown. His hesitation cost him. The Joker pulled out the other broken plastic game piece from Mousetrap from inside his shirt, and stuck it squarely into Hank's left eye socket.

More blood. More screaming. Then, even more screaming from terrified patients who were witnessing the chaos.

Despite all the training for a Code Purple situation, which was supposed to be founded on discretion and level-headed reactions, one of the orderlies sounded the alarm and the entire hospital went into lockdown mode. A team of guards rushed into the room. Red lights were flashing, coupled with the sound of a fire alarm. That terrorized even more patients. It was pandemonium. The Joker bounced over couches and jumped on tables to get away from a pack of guards who chased him. He laughed maniacally all the while, vacillating between cackling noises and comic-like sounds of "woo hoo hoo hoo!" Lauren blinked and watched the psychopath hop around, and she couldn't help but think of a blood-thirsty Tigger.

The Joker was tackled to the ground at last, and pumped full of sedatives. The guards were able to restrain him in a straight jacket. Doctors were tending to Hank, Mr. Yahtzee and Brendan, who was screaming in shock. The Joker had given Brendan's foot to the man with pica, who was chewing on it like a dog with a toy. Brendan watched in horror as the man pulled the skin from the pinky toe of his severed foot and began gnashing it with his teeth.

As the sedative kicked in, the Joker started slurring his words heavily as he was pulled out the door, but onlookers could discern the words 'secret' and 'Gordon'. One patient would later claim they heard the Joker say 'Batman'. Before the door to the recreation room closed behind him, the Joker mustered one last coherent shout over his shoulder, at Brendan.

"I told… you… that you… reminded me of… HOBIE." He descended into more peals of laughter, as the shrill notes of insanity crackled in the air.

Dr. Palmater finally came out of his office once he saw the Joker had been subdued. He looked around, absolutely stunned at the thorough failure that Code Purple had turned out to be.

One of the nurses outside the room peered through the window of the door, watching all the chaos unfold inside. She pursed her lips, shook her head, then turned toward the decorated sign on the easel, which was propped up outside the door. The horrible handwriting seemed a harbinger of the madness that the night ended up precipitating:

GAME NIGHT

WEDNESDAY at 7:00

FUN ~ LAUGHTER ~ FRIENDS

ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN!

The nurse pulled the sign down off the easel.

After the scene was contained and the patients were allowed to leave Game Night one by one, nearly every one them appeared traumatized.

Except for one.

As he sauntered down the hall to his room, Dr. Crane smiled, playing the scene over and over again in his own mind. It got funnier each time.

. . . . . . .

Author's Notes for "Right Foot Red"

. . . . . . .

This one-shot takes place three months after The Dark Knight, and about nine months before my story "Not Playing with a Full Deck" begins. For those of you reading NPWAFD, this scene above takes place before the Joker has his clandestine session with Dr. Crane (which happened in a flashback) to learn all about psychological torture for the purposes of behavioral control.

There are elements in this story that tie into NPWAFD.

One of the common elements is a caulrophobic patient named Steven, whom the Joker terrorizes. Another is the character of Barker, who becomes the Joker's most loyal, idol-worshipping follower. This night is when they both interact with the Joker for the first time. There's a scene in NPWAFD where Mayor Garcia is being blackmailed by a one-night stand named Sheila, because she took photos of him while he was passed out, wearing nothing but a Batman-type cowl, cape and a belt, so the Joker brings up that he already knew about Garcia's Batman fetish. I'll leave it to the readers to decide how he knows about it.

The conversation between the Joker and Lauren while sitting behind the couch is a foreshadowing of what he's planning on doing to Gotham… which unfolds in NPWAFD. As he promises, he ends up striking by revealing a devastating secret when Gotham's defenses are already completely obliterated, to do as much damage as possible.

I came up with this story idea and started writing it in July of 2010, but thanks to life getting in the way, only now could I finally bring it to fruition.

-4ofCups, 2016.08.31