(no subject)
May. 2nd, 2009 11:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Customer Satisfaction
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellerkay (previously published under collectively)
Challenger:inkahootz
Challenge: Topher and the Joker; "What the fuck happened to the chair?"”
Fandoms: Dollhouse and Batman (Nolanverse informed by some comics)
Word count:1,183
Summary: Customer satisfaction is one of the Dollhouse’s highest priorities.
Warnings: Mild references to Joker/Batman.
A/N: For the purposes of this story, Topher works at a Dollhouse located in Gotham.
Topher was writing a new imprint when he heard a series of ominous crashing noises. Looking up, he saw Batman peering through the door to his lab. He jumped to his feet and walked towards him.
“Whoa, hey, you’re back early.” He tried to peer behind the tall man to see his handler. “Sullivan, did something go wrong?”
“Remain calm,” Batman said as he walked into the room. Behind him, pressing a gun to the Batman’s back, was the Joker. Topher backed up several feet very fast.
“Oh, uh, hey, I really should have guessed that you’d be the client. I sort of thought our screening process was more stringent, heh, but we’ve had issues with that before, so…”
“Your, uh, ‘screening process,’” the Joker used air quotes to emphasize his point, “was a joke. An infant could fake his way through it.” He smacked the doll who had been imprinted as Batman on the back on of his head with the gun and Batman crumpled forward onto the floor. “I want to register a complaint.”
Instinctively, Topher held his hands up, fingers outstretched, in front of his chest. He did not want to look like a threat to this man. “I, um, well, we’ve got a complaints department. They’re small but they sure know how to address a –”
“No,” the Joker said, walking towards him. Topher backed up until he was pressed against a wall and the Joker stopped only inches from his face. “I hear that you’re the one to talk to.”
“Uh…well, what seems to be the trouble, sir? Uh, Joker? Uh…what’s your preferred, um, method of address?”
The Joker licked his lips and Topher wondered how many weapons he had hidden in that long coat of his and immediately regretted it. “What’s your first name?” the Joker asked.
“Topher,” Topher said.
“Mm. Topher. Well, this doll you gave me is defective.”
“Right. Uh, what’s the matter with it?”
“It’s not him.”
“It’s not…Batman?” The Joker narrowed his eyes, holding Topher’s gaze. Topher decided to take that as a yes. “Uh, well…I mean, I did the best I could. All we have is some psychological profiles, and they’re really just theoretical. It’s not like anyone got to examine him. And no one who knew him would talk to us. Commissioner Gordon was our best bet, and…” Topher shrugged, spreading his hands wide in a manner that, he hoped, absolved him of all responsibility or at least of all blame.
The Joker prodded the unconscious Batman with his foot. “This one has the moves, I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had fun. More fun than the first one would ever give me.” He leered and Topher tried very hard not to think about the sexual skills that had been part of the work order for the imprint. “But it’s not him. He doesn’t even know his own secret identity.”
“Uh, well, look, I mean – and this is not, I repeat, so very not a criticism, but…you did kill him before anyone got a chance to find out who he was.” Topher tried to smile pleasantly but he had a feeling it came out more like a nervous grimace. “And hey, congratulations on that, it was a hell of a move, really, I mean, I was seriously impressed – everyone was impressed, everyone was talking about it for weeks around the…around the office…” He trailed off. The Joker didn’t appear to be listening anymore. He had stepped away from Topher and was slowly circling the unconscious Batman.
“So there’s no way to…improve on this design?” he asked. Topher felt his face flush slightly.
“No,” he said, voice strong for the first time since the beginning of this little interview. “My imprints are the best you’re going to get.” The Joker looked at him again with a raised eyebrow, and Topher remembered who he was talking to. “Which isn’t to say…I mean, if you want something, um, tweaked a little bit, some extra skill, a new fighting style or, um…” He winced internally and hoped it didn’t show on his face. “If you want him to be into something, you know, unusual…”
“Hmm.” The Joker looked thoughtful. “Does he know Tae Kwon Do?”
Topher grinned with relief. “Uh, no, he doesn’t, but if you give me, um, just two seconds, I’ll just, uh…I’ll just grab the file.” He backed slowly but steadily towards his office, eyes wide. “Seriously, just like, less than a minute.”
“Don’t be long,” the Joker said, a trace of a smirk on his face.
“Of course not! Of course not.” By now Topher was in his office. He pushed frantically at the button for the silent alarm underneath his desk; where in the hell was security anyway? This was the Dollhouse, psychopaths weren’t supposed to be able to just walk in whenever they like and threaten peaceful geniuses! He rooted frantically through the stacks of things on his desk and finally came up with the flash drive that had fighting styles backed up on it. It was all on the main computer, of course, but he had to give the Joker some reason for going into his office…
Several loud crashes came from the other room and Topher ran back in. The Joker, panting, dropped a baseball bat to the floor. With what appeared to be a preternatural sense, he had destroyed all the most vital parts of the imprint chair. Topher dropped the flash drive and clutched at his hair.
“I-you-what the fuck happened to the chair?” he cried.
“You’re not too bright when it comes to cause and effect, hmm?” the Joker asked.
“I-why?! I thought you wanted Tae Kwon Do!”
The Joker shook his head impatiently. “No, no. You see, Topher, friend, you’re going to have to forgive me because everything I said before was a lie.” Topher stared blankly at him and the Joker sighed. “I like your imprint. He’s not quite what I want, but, well, as you pointed out…I only have myself to blame for that. I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any improvments to be made. Seems not. You’re talented. Look me up if you ever need work.”
“But…the chair?”
“Wellll…” He was smiling again. Topher found this very, very frightening. “I’m not giving him back. We’ve bonded, do you see?” He looked towards the door and nodded, and two henchman materialized. They picked up the doll Batman and carried him out of the room. The Joker smirked.
“Uh, uh, they’ll, uh – they’ll find you. The Dollhouse people, they’re very, um,” Topher stuttered as he tried to come up with an adjective. Vocabulary didn’t seem to be his strongest point right then.
The Joker giggled. “They won’t find me,” he said confidently. “Thanks again, he’s almost just what I wanted. You let me know if you want that job.” He left the room and Topher sank to the ground, his legs suddenly feeling too rubbery to support him. He ran a hand through his hair.
“I have got to talk to someone about our screening process,” he said weakly.
Author:
ellerkay (previously published under collectively)Challenger:
inkahootzChallenge: Topher and the Joker; "What the fuck happened to the chair?"”
Fandoms: Dollhouse and Batman (Nolanverse informed by some comics)
Word count:1,183
Summary: Customer satisfaction is one of the Dollhouse’s highest priorities.
Warnings: Mild references to Joker/Batman.
A/N: For the purposes of this story, Topher works at a Dollhouse located in Gotham.
Topher was writing a new imprint when he heard a series of ominous crashing noises. Looking up, he saw Batman peering through the door to his lab. He jumped to his feet and walked towards him.
“Whoa, hey, you’re back early.” He tried to peer behind the tall man to see his handler. “Sullivan, did something go wrong?”
“Remain calm,” Batman said as he walked into the room. Behind him, pressing a gun to the Batman’s back, was the Joker. Topher backed up several feet very fast.
“Oh, uh, hey, I really should have guessed that you’d be the client. I sort of thought our screening process was more stringent, heh, but we’ve had issues with that before, so…”
“Your, uh, ‘screening process,’” the Joker used air quotes to emphasize his point, “was a joke. An infant could fake his way through it.” He smacked the doll who had been imprinted as Batman on the back on of his head with the gun and Batman crumpled forward onto the floor. “I want to register a complaint.”
Instinctively, Topher held his hands up, fingers outstretched, in front of his chest. He did not want to look like a threat to this man. “I, um, well, we’ve got a complaints department. They’re small but they sure know how to address a –”
“No,” the Joker said, walking towards him. Topher backed up until he was pressed against a wall and the Joker stopped only inches from his face. “I hear that you’re the one to talk to.”
“Uh…well, what seems to be the trouble, sir? Uh, Joker? Uh…what’s your preferred, um, method of address?”
The Joker licked his lips and Topher wondered how many weapons he had hidden in that long coat of his and immediately regretted it. “What’s your first name?” the Joker asked.
“Topher,” Topher said.
“Mm. Topher. Well, this doll you gave me is defective.”
“Right. Uh, what’s the matter with it?”
“It’s not him.”
“It’s not…Batman?” The Joker narrowed his eyes, holding Topher’s gaze. Topher decided to take that as a yes. “Uh, well…I mean, I did the best I could. All we have is some psychological profiles, and they’re really just theoretical. It’s not like anyone got to examine him. And no one who knew him would talk to us. Commissioner Gordon was our best bet, and…” Topher shrugged, spreading his hands wide in a manner that, he hoped, absolved him of all responsibility or at least of all blame.
The Joker prodded the unconscious Batman with his foot. “This one has the moves, I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had fun. More fun than the first one would ever give me.” He leered and Topher tried very hard not to think about the sexual skills that had been part of the work order for the imprint. “But it’s not him. He doesn’t even know his own secret identity.”
“Uh, well, look, I mean – and this is not, I repeat, so very not a criticism, but…you did kill him before anyone got a chance to find out who he was.” Topher tried to smile pleasantly but he had a feeling it came out more like a nervous grimace. “And hey, congratulations on that, it was a hell of a move, really, I mean, I was seriously impressed – everyone was impressed, everyone was talking about it for weeks around the…around the office…” He trailed off. The Joker didn’t appear to be listening anymore. He had stepped away from Topher and was slowly circling the unconscious Batman.
“So there’s no way to…improve on this design?” he asked. Topher felt his face flush slightly.
“No,” he said, voice strong for the first time since the beginning of this little interview. “My imprints are the best you’re going to get.” The Joker looked at him again with a raised eyebrow, and Topher remembered who he was talking to. “Which isn’t to say…I mean, if you want something, um, tweaked a little bit, some extra skill, a new fighting style or, um…” He winced internally and hoped it didn’t show on his face. “If you want him to be into something, you know, unusual…”
“Hmm.” The Joker looked thoughtful. “Does he know Tae Kwon Do?”
Topher grinned with relief. “Uh, no, he doesn’t, but if you give me, um, just two seconds, I’ll just, uh…I’ll just grab the file.” He backed slowly but steadily towards his office, eyes wide. “Seriously, just like, less than a minute.”
“Don’t be long,” the Joker said, a trace of a smirk on his face.
“Of course not! Of course not.” By now Topher was in his office. He pushed frantically at the button for the silent alarm underneath his desk; where in the hell was security anyway? This was the Dollhouse, psychopaths weren’t supposed to be able to just walk in whenever they like and threaten peaceful geniuses! He rooted frantically through the stacks of things on his desk and finally came up with the flash drive that had fighting styles backed up on it. It was all on the main computer, of course, but he had to give the Joker some reason for going into his office…
Several loud crashes came from the other room and Topher ran back in. The Joker, panting, dropped a baseball bat to the floor. With what appeared to be a preternatural sense, he had destroyed all the most vital parts of the imprint chair. Topher dropped the flash drive and clutched at his hair.
“I-you-what the fuck happened to the chair?” he cried.
“You’re not too bright when it comes to cause and effect, hmm?” the Joker asked.
“I-why?! I thought you wanted Tae Kwon Do!”
The Joker shook his head impatiently. “No, no. You see, Topher, friend, you’re going to have to forgive me because everything I said before was a lie.” Topher stared blankly at him and the Joker sighed. “I like your imprint. He’s not quite what I want, but, well, as you pointed out…I only have myself to blame for that. I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any improvments to be made. Seems not. You’re talented. Look me up if you ever need work.”
“But…the chair?”
“Wellll…” He was smiling again. Topher found this very, very frightening. “I’m not giving him back. We’ve bonded, do you see?” He looked towards the door and nodded, and two henchman materialized. They picked up the doll Batman and carried him out of the room. The Joker smirked.
“Uh, uh, they’ll, uh – they’ll find you. The Dollhouse people, they’re very, um,” Topher stuttered as he tried to come up with an adjective. Vocabulary didn’t seem to be his strongest point right then.
The Joker giggled. “They won’t find me,” he said confidently. “Thanks again, he’s almost just what I wanted. You let me know if you want that job.” He left the room and Topher sank to the ground, his legs suddenly feeling too rubbery to support him. He ran a hand through his hair.
“I have got to talk to someone about our screening process,” he said weakly.
