Derek Bindman

Derek Bindman

 

 

 

Well, what Derek had hoped to be an easy switch over, to send the clown off to someone else, avoid the man that had disturbed Harvey Dent enough to break him. But, Derek was head of Arkham now, there was no turning back, and the first equvals had to be done by him and then paced off to someone else. It was just the Joker, he'd be fine.

• • Right?
    
    Derek, dressed in his a gray wool suit, gathered his things off his black granite desk, files from the previous head on the patient (proving to be... unhelpful), a pen, and a clean pad of paper. Locking his office on the way out, he walked slowly down the corridors to the holding areas, the part of Arkham that was for inmates only. The lighting was lower, the security was beefed up, and it smelled faintly of urine and bleach, probably to the cover the smell.
    
    Having been doing this for a few months now, Derek thought he might actually have gotten used to it, but chills still spread down his spine as he walked past murderers and rapists, people who tortured other people for fun -- downright crazy people. Derek wished they'd just go to Blackgate, and then he wouldn't have to worry about them.
    
    But, but... Harvey had been one of these people once, he knew this, and with that reality set into his mind, he was set to try and fix each one. Or attempt to, it never hurt. Harvey was a prime example.
    
    Now the Joker... and just as he thought about what might be plausible in getting the man to be 'normal', he arrived at his cell, high grade plexi-glass, enforced by steal polls that ran electricity through them. Joker had been straight jacketed, so Derek felt a /little/ safe as he slid his card into the slot and the door swung open.
    
    "Mister..." he began, looking over the file again for a name. No name. "Joker, is it?"
    
    

    Jáckson Jøke Napiėr

    Moments earlier, prior to all of this hoo-ha-ha, the Joker had been gruffly assaulted by the guards of Arkham, while they bullied him with their billy clubs and threatened the clown prince of Gotham with their most acrid, words. Ooh, how borrrring. Yes, all they really had where minuscule threats which were such.../such/ a laughing /joke,/ in this institution of /crazies/ and they declared him insane when he was the one who was in fact thinking clear as crystal among all of these insipid lil' monkeys in the cage.
    
    He sighed heavily, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as though rationalizing this whole situation then a raspy, high-pitched cackle escaped that marred mouth as those dark eyes narrowed on the guard leading him over to his cell. He grumbled irritably, making incoherent noises that only he himself would understand as he was shoved forcefully into a seat and ordered to sit and obey like a dog. What sheer and utter nonsense. Why that was the most ridiculous notion he had heard all day. In fact he found it almost ironic considering that half of that city was on his payroll and they all bow to him, but soon they would learn who was rolling the dice in this game of /monopolies./
    
    He snorted irritably and sniffed pointedly to further show his increasing agitation as they began to chain him to the floor now to steel rungs hooked to the cement and his laughter increased, shoulders shaking with unabashed mirth.
    
    "Uh, whaddya doin' down there, hm?" He purred, that voice thick with cynicism and malignancy while those eyes bled black with acidity. "Ticklin' my fancy...ya' know you're not being rough enough and I kinda like it when my restraints are practically cuttin' off my circulation it gets me kinda hot and bothered," he drawled lowly, grinning down at him that smile plastered over his face in a sickly manner, knowing this was just riling up the guard his taunting mannerisms and maybe if he tried a bit harder it would earn him a punch in the mouth and then he could get a lil' more /personal./ That was always the easiest way out of a tight situation, then they broke like china dolls, too /fragile/ and he could bust the guard up and leave Jerry's lil' funhouse of nutjobs.
    
    "Shut the fuck up, clown," he growled back, and continued on with his work, shackling the Joker's feet in, not buying into his scheming tactics.
    
    What a shame. If the Joker's foot was free he could have simply lifted his foot and nailed the man right in the mouth and dislocated said, backtalking jaw unhinged for principality purposes, but seeing how they deterred that by cuffing his feet firmly to the ground he could do nothing and he grew more furious by the seconds which made him start to giggle into a frenzy.
    
    Now completely fastened into place, the guards left him in the tiny enclosed room, when another man came into the room who looked a bit apprehensive, however took his seat across from the madman who still had that grim paint on his face in sporadic spots, then leaned forward onto the plexi-glass those dark eyes harrowing as he simply stared back at the man on the other side watching him, and waiting for an answer.
    
    "Well, well, well isn't this just ah, lovely and different-ah!" He announced and giggled a bit, then licked at his chops as though he were starved for days.
    
    "Ya' know usually I get the girly docs pick, pick, PICK-ING-AH at my brains but this is gonna be reaaaaally interesting just us two guys chatting it up ya' know? ..hmm?" He grinned fiendishly at the other man, the urge of wanting to point and move his arms erratically restrained by the confines of the jacket making him growl loudly in aggravation.
    
    "I think that you and I are gonna get along...just fine and dandy, ya'..hmm...ya' wanna know why? Cus' ya see, I already can tell that you are the type that ah, doesn't..." The Joker shook his head from side to side emphatically smiling broadly, "give shit, you just simply take it don't ya?" He queried, squinting those dark eyes at him, then a sly lil' smile surpassed those scarred lips. "Hmm..well.. go on and try it just see what you got there, Doc in your lil' book there, hm?" The Joker inquired in that almost melodic tune, as he let out a deep sigh and sat back into the chair to get comfortable. No need to cross his arms they were already set into place for him, and he just simply laughed at the irony of that.
    
    

    Derek Bindman

    Derek, for what it was worth, was a patient man; a learned science for most therapists, through schooling and discipline, but Derek was just naturally and easy going person, which was one reason he was /so/ good at his job. A born natural, as a lot had said. However, his easy going nature was often lacking in the sensible area. One leg crossed over the other, he jotted down a few things on his pad of paper, raising a brow at the clown behind the glass.
    
    "Do you do that often? Analyze your, what do you want to call them? Victims? Let's go with that," he gestured, writing that down for reference. "Analyzing people. You do that to scare them right? See things about them, little pieces of their nature that others don't notice? Quirks? You use it to gain fear, correct?"
    
    Unphased it seemed, Derek's heart was actually thudding louder than before, being on the other side of the analytical discussions. Simply, he had to turn them around, back to the patient, and keep his personal life out of the conversation.
    
    

    Jáckson Jøke Napiėr

    The Joker nearly felt insulted by this horrible misinterpreted and false accusation coming from this total and complete moron from beyond the looking glass. Pathetic imbecile he sneered abhorrently and sniffed pointedly then shifted in his seat, narrowing those dark eyes into lead slits as he peered at the doctor now.
    
    "Fear you say? No, no, no, ya' see that is ah..that is Johnny's racket," he stated bluntly, those eyes emotionless and unreadable. "I don't need to really scare anyone cus they are already cowards and it is true that in their last moments people do show that last shred of humanity, their errr...they show you who they really are when they are hanging on that final thread and it's ...." the Joker leaned in and sighed dramatically, grinning like a sadistic at his lil' brain picker. "Beaaaautiful," he groaned wantonly those dark eyes rolling into the back of his head as though he was getting off on, reveling in the actual pleasure and bloodlust of murdering his victims then let out a loud shrill barking cackle.
    
    The Joker moved to sit back once more and those eyes shifted left then right and he snapped them back onto the doctor in question, parting his mouth slightly and chortling an almost gurgling sound coming from his throat.
    
    "And do you know what I notice.../Doc?"/ The Joker shifted again, as though he was looking behind him, then turned to face the man head on, that marred mouth stretching into a maniacal grin, lewdness gracing the tips. "You seem really nervous, and I can tell because you keep switching your positions," he remarked, that tone low and his words deliberate.
    
    "I have an excuse cus the last time they put me in here, they pumped me full of drugs and I have ah, hmm..." his eyes flitted upwards in deep thought while he smacked on his lips pondering his next choice of statement then continued on, "Tardive Dyskinesia it's a disorder when they give someone too many psychotropic drugs and you would know all about that now wouldn't you DOC-TO-RRR, hmm?" His voice was lace with pure acidity as he drawled out every syllable in that unusual speaking manner, those eyes burning into the other man's skull.
    
    "I bet ya' know about a lot of other things or are you gonna bore me like everyone else has in this nuthouse, hm?" He was almost tired of these questions but perhaps the new doctor had something interesting to offer him other than the usual brain lobotomies that passed on through when he would visit the Asylum. Well, in time he would be another easy egg to crack and watch fall from the wall and tumble down. He hated nursery rhymes, but this man was like a child, so it was fitting for him which made him almost giggle a bit.
    
    

    Derek Bindman

    ‎"Right," he said, letting the man talk as he took notes, far more to go off already than the last person gave him to use. The file for the Joker was full, but lacked /any/ information. He tapped the pen against the paper, looking up when the Joker was speaking /about/ him.
    
    "This isn't about me. This session is about you. We'll talk only about you. If you're done then I'll leave and we'll try again later. But to get a good eval on you, I need at least an hour of time. The longer you take, the longer you'll be forced into a straight jacket for most of the day, pumped full of said drugs. If you.. cooperate, you'll be assigned a doctor and things can get underway." Derek was not against using his authority. Scared? Sure, who wouldn't be? But, he'd known enough patients like the Joker, not as nuts, but like him, to know that he couldn't let them get their way in these sessions.
    
    "So.. why don't you tell me about your child hood. Or young adult life. I'm listening. If you prefer not to, anything else would do. Something to press this file into the hands of a very capable doctor who wants to help you."
    
    

    Jáckson Jøke Napiėr

    Apparently this shortsighted bug-eyed cretin didn't have the first notion of what he was getting into. Did the Joker not just make himself clear the first time around he wasn't here to make things personal?
    
    The Joker leaned on the glass again, forehead pressed firmly then glanced at the plastic nametag fashioned onto the lapel of the jacket. Ah, he had a name. Good, he had something to use against this insipid lil' fool. Always make it personal that was the rule in this game. He was flipping the tables on this card for once, so the moment this Derek character started pressing the questions about his past, was when the clown prince started to get a lil' peeved, but now that he had a bit of information on the kid, it was starting to get really interesting. The Joker didn't want to get comfy cozy with anyone and he would be damned if this rookie were about to get inside of his head.
    
    Sighing quite irritably, he had the sudden urge to drum his long fingers along the counter in front of him but that was brought to an immediate halt from the confines of the jacket, which only warranted a loud ringing series of cackles of incredulity. He cocked his head like a curious puppy would do so at this bothersome creature, then rolled his eyes in vexation.
    
    "I don't remember anything," he stated bluntly, those eyes narrowed and a very smug smile plastered on those marred features. "And that's the truth and I don't lie about anything, so you can just ah, stamp your lil' paper and be on your way, /Derekkk-ah,/ cus you are wasting your time trying to ah, fix me," he remarked with an emphatic nod, those eyes burning with malignancy as he stared the doctor down through the plastic sheet between them for some kind of battle of dominance.
    
    

    Derek Bindman

    Didn't remember anything. Could have been a rouse, or could just be the simple truth. People like this, like the Joker, mad set and hell bent on destroying the world around them, usually had drives, reasons even, for doing it. Not remembering a childhood, fond memories, anything at all to a adulthood? It shot up all sort of signals and flares for Derek. Repressed memories were common for a lot of kids who were abused, and in turn it made them angry and remorseful at the world.
    
    Crazy even. Confused.
    
    Eh, he was jumping on the wagon with that one, and Derek knew it. But, he made a note of it anyway, as a possibility, but not written in stone. He had a feeling this guy was a little more complex than that.
    
    "I did say you could talk about anything else, doesn't have to be your childhood. Just so long as it's about you. I have to have /something/ to go off. Like..., let's start with why you've picked /now/, after six or so years, to return to Gotham?"
    
    

    Jáckson Jøke Napiėr

    The Joker sighed loudly in an irritated manner and threw his head back and laughed shrilly, perhaps he was getting to the young doctor, this rookie, this lil' shrink, then he shifted up in his seat using his body weight to pull the chair along with him.
    
    He didn't want to talk about anything else concerning himself. Right now the main focus was getting inside of Derek's head, and he was picking up on a certain vibe just by the tone he was using with him, that he was just too calm and collected. A warning sign that he was already feeling disconcerted by the presence of the madman.
    
    "Saaay, /Derek,"/ he began with a coy' lil grin. "Do ya wanna know why I am back in here, hm?" He questioned him, with deliberate smoothness in that gravelly tone.
    
    "Well, I don't really quite recall what happened six years ago, but I do remember taking a /knife-ah/ to Haaarvey. Dent-ah," he bit the name of the public figure sharply, that upper lip curling into a hideous sneer and those eyes black and wild. "You, ah, you shoulda seen the mess I made of him, although it wasn't hard he was already a /messss/ to begin with," then he erupted into a fit of hysterics, as he began to shake with pure merriment in the plastic chair.
    
    

    Derek Bindman

    Derek had heard the news, actually. He /knew/ this already, having watched in terror on the television, with horror. Two kids murdered and Harvey threw his gallant ass at the Joker like the brave man Derek knew him to be. It did not, however, mean that it settled well with the shrink.
    
    Harvey was a patient of his for years, helped him out of the first Joker slump and through losing Rachel the way he had. Horrible times, and Derek remembered the nightmares and terrors the blond had in clinic. Never good, always terrifying. How Harvey actually made it to how he was today still surprised him. But it also gave Derek hope for others.
    
    He narrowed his eyes a little on the man on the other side of the glass. "We're not here to talk about Dent," he said through gritted teeth, unaware he was actually clenching his jaw shut.
    
    

    Jáckson Jøke Napiėr

    The Joker immediately noticed his sudden mood shift from the almost cheery pleasant demeanor that most doctors painted on their faces, that fake false attitude to now what appeared to be agitation. Ooh, he struck a core nerve and this pleased him further. But why Harvey Dent? Well, only one way to find out he decided to press the issue even more.
    
    "Well, we are not here to ah, /talk/ about /meee,/ either so I choose to talk about Dent now, I mean you did say I could talk about whatever I wanted so, now I /will,"/ he remarked with a sly' lil smile plastered across that marred mouth, lewdness gracing the tips as he swiped his tongue along them.
    
    "Hmm..." the Joker tapped his foot apprehensively on the floor, narrowing his eyes at the man, and straightened himself in the chair. "Ya' know Harvey could have kept going if he really /wanted/ to," he smacked his lips and nodded. "I was ah, taking it /eeeeasy/ on him, cus ya' see before the Bat came in and ruined the fun, I woulda just slit his throat from ear to ear."
    
    He was grinning now, fiendishly at the doctor behind the glass, those eyes harrowing and malicious just like his words.
    
    "Bats always ruins my fun," he added on quietly with a smirk. "You ah, gotta get behind the Bat to get ahead of the game if that is what you want, Doctor," the Joker emphasized his words with an emphatic nod, then turned as though someone were looking in on them, glancing over his shoulders then looked back to Derek.
    
    "That is ah, what you /want/ isn't it, /hmm?"/ He purred melodically one eyebrow raised expectantly at the man, knowing he was hiding something about Harvey Dent. How.../amusing./
    
    

    Derek Bindman

    Trying to keep this off the topic of Dent wasn't working, the Joker seemed to have realized, even noticed, that Harvey was a sore subject, the soft spot of the therapist's guarded doors. It wasn't good, and Derek /knew/ that, and he /knew/ he should just drop it and leave.
    
    But... but... Batman. What was that about Batman? Why...
    
    "What I want is not important here. And when I said talk about whatever you want, I meant concerning your life. Dent is not the topic, pick another one."
    
    /... ahead of the game...?/ Curious, he wasn't sure what it meant, but he wasn't going to /ask/ either. That was like... feeding a crazyed world crack and watching him go insane. No, no... Keep to plan, Derek...
    
    

    Jáckson Jøke Napiėr

    Ooh, was he getting testy with him now? Touche and heh, touchy. He liked that. In fact the Joker was enjoying this a little too much and now he was going to have him go screaming down that spiral of madness. It wouldn't be too long now seeing as he had leverage to go off of observing Derek's intensified /emotions./ The Joker had Dent.
    
    /Perfect./
    
    "Weeell, seeing how ol' Harveeey was under my /blade/ and all, I would say he has become a part of me now," the Joker put bluntly, his eyes shifting upwards as he spoke.
    
    "In fact all of my victims become a part of me once they get a taste of what I am capable of doing, buuut, I never quite finished up with him."
    
    Yes, leave it just like that, the Joker mused with a smug smile. The statement hanging in the dead air and eluding to something, making Derek crash into the brink of insanity leaving his mind reeling with thought of his obvious precious Harvey and the torment of what is about to come.
    
    

    Derek Bindman

    Derek shot to his feet, fingers white around the pen in his hand, almost forgetting he was even holding it. He didn't want to hear this, not about /his/ Harvey, the man didn't deserve to be treated that way. Dammit, and all that the Joker was saying was really getting to him, inside him, feeding the fuel of an angry beast.
    
    No, no. Stay calm. He just wants to get me riled up.
    
    Too late, and Derek couldn't do anything to help Harvey either, he'd been fired from being his therapist, handed the file to someone else. But Derek had a longing right now to just /call/ Harvey and make sure she was /okay/, mentally.
    
    "No. He deserves better than to be a pawn in your little games with Batman. Pick someone else." Oh, God, Derek... He couldn't stop himself from saying it.

    
    
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