In the Mind of Madness

King held a tape recorder in his hands, having been staring at it for a good ten minutes. When he reluctantly cleared out Kenna’s office he had found it. The tape was in the little black box, a white label on it reading ‘Joker’ in Kenna‘s neat scrawl. With a shuddering sigh King stuck it in his tape recorder began rewinding the tape, his callused fingers trembling slightly.

Everything was pointing to Kenna switching sides. But it didn’t make sense! She was…King couldn’t finish his thought. He obviously didn’t know her as well as he thought. The tape clicked and King set it down on his coffee table, pressing play slowly. The Joker’s voice filled King’s living room immediately.

“I was eighteen and working for a bunch of wannabe mobsters. We were gonna hit a small bank that nobody knew about. None of us were more than twenty, so being the cocky kids that we were, we figured we’d do it hard and fast and get outta there. When we showed up, who would be there but Falcone himself. He’s dead now, you probably don’t know who he was, but back then he was the biggest crime boss in Gotham. He didn’t think it was very funny that we were going to try and knock over his bank, but I couldn’t stop smiling. So he had his men tie me up, and he used a pocketknife on my face. Told me now I could always smile. Life’s a little funny isn’t it?”

King didn’t have much time to be shocked before Kenna’s voice sighed, and there was a click. It seemed like she had pressed a button, but the noise didn’t cut off. Did she know that it didn’t stop recording?

“How much of that was even true?”

The Joker laughed hard, making King shiver. “About five percent.”

“Tell me what part of it was true.” ordered Kenna firmly.

The Joker chuckled again. “I can’t do that, kitten.”

“You promised me that -”

The Joker interrupted her. “I would talk if you got me out of that damn jacket. I talked. You didn’t say I had to tell the truth.”

“Goddammit.” grumbled Kenna. King knitted his eyebrows, confused and worried. He hadn’t known that things were so…casual between them.

The Joker made a tutting noise, sounding so haughty that King seethed slightly. “Don’t be that way, precious. I kept my word.”

“You tricked me.”

“That’s not my problem. You’re the shrink, you should be anticipating my next move.”

King waited through the pause on the tape, wondering what would happen next. He found the odd chemistry between the two of them startling.

“And you called me bipolar. I’ve never met anybody more prone to rapid mood swings. Ten minutes ago you looked like you were going to kill me.” said Kenna in a smooth voice.

“I’m an ever-changing mystery, Dr. Archer…What’s your first name?” The Joker asked, sounding curious. King held his breath.

“You first.”

King laughed in spite of himself. Kenna was just as cheeky as her father had been. He had fond memories of the little blonde-haired girl running back and forth between her parents, trying to get her way with a toothless grin and an adorable pout. She had called him Uncle Al back then. King’s attention snapped back to the tape as The Joker’s voice rang low and threatening through his apartment.

“Touché. Maybe you’re not such a horrible shrink after all.”

There was rustling, and the screeching of a chair sliding against the tile floor. It sounded like Kenna shoved the tape recorder in her pocket and was leaving. King shook his head. She had let him get to her far too easily. Then there was a quiet voice, and King had to rewind the tape several times to decipher it.

“Never a disappointment.”

King pressed the stop button, resting his head on his palm. He didn’t know what to think of that last statement. The Joker was obviously intrigued by Kenna, though King couldn’t place exactly why. Of course she was a lovely girl, but why would The Joker be so…interested in her?

Laying back on his worn sofa, King felt old and tired. He never should have let Kenna endanger herself with that madman. What was he thinking? Putting an intern in with a mastermind like The Joker. The most skilled psychologists in the world were baffled by him. It was no wonder that Kenna was missing. And it was all King’s fault.

Trying to distract himself from the crushing guilt threatening to overtake him, King flipped on his television and channel-surfed. The news caught his attention, and he sighed as he watched the security tape playing that had been haunting him since he saw it a week before. His eyes started to droop, and when King checked his watch he groaned. Almost eight in the morning, and he hadn’t slept a wink. King was about to turn the television off and try to sleep when a breaking news banner scrolled across the screen.

King watched in horror as the live action camera showed a gigantic explosion. The news anchor’s voice kept repeating ‘oh my God! oh my God!’ making King shudder. The camera turned shakily to the right, then zoomed in on a couple. King’s breath caught in his throat as he realized what was happening, and he stood furiously.

In his white hot anger King flipped over the coffee table, watching as the glass shattered all over his carpet. He shook violently, glaring at the screen, the images searing into his brain.

How could she?