— The fight to his impending freedom was chaotic . Guards swarm the control room’s entryway and Joker thrashed his way through like an angered bull . Bodies pile at his feet one by one and the crowd that fills each corridor are crammed tight with inmates . Pushing , shoving , he could barely keep his footing , but finally : he sees it . Sunlight beaming from between the set of double doors . People are squeezing their way through , jumping and yelling in their excitement for their sudden freedom as they spill out from the building . Arthur follows the crowd , eyes roaming through any space given in between the sea of people in search for Pyg , but he can’t see much of anything . The sunlight is warm : welcoming even if it were shining down on such a pathetic city and a bloodied hand shades his eyes as he’s submerged beneath the sun’s beams . He turns in place , stopping in place where people would brush by him as if he were nothing more than a traffic cone in the center of a busy street . For the first time , he feels it : the sharp pain in his side and his hand falls to it only to find the warmth of his own blood . His gaze falls , inspecting the thick crimson substance that paints his palm . He’s been stabbed . When or where it happened was a mystery : the events collide into a single conundrum . Blood seeps between his flingers , the liquid smooth ; the most warmth he’s felt in a long time . But suddenly , he hears the beckoning of his name . It’s not his legal name nor is it his alias , but a nickname given to him by his new found acquaintance . Pyg . It’s a miracle , how it cuts through the noise , though it attracts his attention to the direction and away from his wound . To Arthur’s surprise , Pyg stands waiting : he anticipated the other inmate would have taken the opportunity to jump ship . To have merely used Arthur and ditch the facility as quick as he could with no regards to what would happen to his pawn , though he’s proven himself to be reliable . A man true to his word .
— His lips twist into a large smile , one that shows rows of crooked teeth and a laugh escapes him . They’re not free yet , but soon : the main gate is opening and the masses are sprinting towards it as if it would lead them to their salvation . He forces his way through the crowd , sideways instead of towards the exit with his eyes locked ahead on Pyg . And he doesn’t stop until he reaches his destination . He’s short on breath as his body works in overdrive to keep him standing . Months spent malnourished mixed with the exertion of the escape are catching up to him weaken him . And with an injury like the one he sustained , it only worsens his barely existing stamina . Pyg’s drugs carry him through ; his hands are still trembling and the rapid pumping of his heart only make him bleed quicker . He might die ; but he’s okay with the odds . “ Pyg ! ” he announces breathlessly , his smile never faltering . He places a hand upon Pyg’s shoulder in a way to greet him but also so that Arthur could use him as a crutch for a moment . He’s growing weaker by the second . “ We need to get out of here before they close the gates . ” he then said . His voice is hoarse , still , he grits through his burning throat to say them loud enough for the other to hear . He’s still clutching his side with his other hand . The white fabric of his uniform is darkened and stained deep mahogany that’s slowly making it’s way from beneath his palm .
— Sirens ring from the distance now : there are only two roads that lead in and out of the Asylum and he’s certain that the swat team was on the way . Guns will be drawn and the crowds would become nothing more than a firing range for blood hungry cops . His odds aren’t in his favor — not with this injury . And as much as he would rather die than to take a blow to his overly inflated ego and ask Pyg for help , his desire not to die by the firing squad burned far stronger : he’d much rather bleed out somewhere else instead . “ I ... I need your help . ” Joker admits , feeling a certain defeat . Despite him freeing the entire prison with his previous performance , knowing he can’t get himself out of here makes him feel useless . Weak . His mother’s voice tells him so . ‘ You’re never going to be strong , Happy . You need to go to the gym , like Thomas Wayne — He used to work out when he was your age . ’ The reminder brings a grimace to his face and he hisses out in pain as he accidentally tightened his hand around his burning wound . “ I’ll make it up to you . ” He owes Pyg bigtime anyways , if it weren't for him in the first place , their escape would never have happened .
