The morning after being rescued from Belle Reve the Joker watched her; the way she turned herself effortlessly around the room. The way she interacted with her surroundings, in total bliss. Her mood proven to be nothing but overjoyed since her return home she had done nothing but simply dance, her own small form of a victory dance she happily danced herself away for the Joker's entertainment. For he had rescued her, so she would do anything to entertain him; even if he wanted her to or not.
Freed from every last trace that signified her to being a prisoner of Belle Reve Prison for the past couple months, the Joker had been given the pleasure to rip the prisoner uniform off of her frame. Not gentle or caressing, he had ripped and torn the material off her in no specific design; desperate to get it off of she had giggled at his efforts. Driven on by her laughter it wasn't long until she had been stripped of her confinement, the prisoner uniform shredded at the base of their feet.
Every essence of her captivity now extinct.
Or so he had thought.
The prisoner uniform shredded by the Joker's own hands in a lustful vengeance, she now danced in one of the many purple shirts that he owned hours later. Loosely clung to her frame, when given the right turn it would make the resemblance of a dress. Blissful and elegant, the Joker yearned to see her wear a real one again. One that would enhance her natural curves and features, but for now; the shirt would have to suffice.
His eyes captivated by her legs as he would watch her turn, it wasn't long however until they had diverted to the foreign designs that claimed her skin. Recognised as tattoos, the back of the Joker's mind swarmed with thoughts. Unable to get an accurate glance at the tattoo's as she turned, his mind grew to be more than curious. She had been locked up, hidden away; so there was no bloody chance in hell that she should have managed to claim new tattoos.
His property damaged, and his mind no longer as refreshed to what it once was after the discovery of the new tattoos that claimed her legs, Harley's presence tired him and with one single push of his palms he was refined.
Out of bed and stood in the centre of the room he watched her interact with his presence, the way she twirled her frame around his. Her little performance for him to watch, to endeavour his praise.
"Hey Puddin'" she laughs now, bought on by his stance her fingers looked for his own; where she grabbed them. "Do you wanna dance with me?"
Quite the contrary.
Unimpressed, he pulled his fingers away but she continued to dance around him; clearly unfazed by his mood she picked up her pace; determined to get a reaction from him. His attention however had been diverted to the many new tattoos that had appeared on her legs since he had last seen her. Now close for a better inspection, his cold eyes struggled to keep up with her rhythm.
"Harls keep still!" His hands forceful he stops her where she stood, not at all perplexed by the Jester's sudden outburst the female clown complied. Still as a statue, the Joker's eyes casted down to her bleached legs that weren't hidden beneath his purple shirt. Clear as daylight the Joker's eyes casted over to the many new tattoos that claimed Harley's skin.
Cheap stick n' poke designs by the look of the amateur angle, the Joker knew that Harley had gifted herself with them. All of them upside down in a lazy manner it was apparent that she had done them out of boredom more than anything else. Marked with the constant insanity of the 'Ha, Ha, Ha's' scattered amongst her legs combined with her tallied imprisonment and the occasional reference to his pet name 'Puddin' to his annoyance, what caught his eye the most was the one which was stationed on her upper right leg.
The upper half of it hidden, his cool hand found the bottom of the cotton shirt and with one swift movement he forced it up. The tattoo exposed for him to cruelly critic, what washed over him first was repulsion, then infuriation, and finally disgust.
Just as unprofessional as the others, this one however was facing the right way up. Crudely done and a poison to the skin as it sat on her perfect frame his eyes twitched toward her, both of them infuriated with rage.
His Harlequin had been disrespected.
Many questions in need of an answer the Joker only stuck with one, he only needed to know one; the rest of them weren't adequate.
"Who?" his voice snarled.
Harley met his gaze, his hand still latched onto the purple shirt she knew to the tattoo that he was referring to. "Griggs, he thought it'd be funny to sedate me and give me a stick n' poke. Bastard thought it matched my personality."
The Joker snarled.
Repulsed, anger infuriated through the Joker's blood stream as he trailed his fingers effortlessly down the abused skin. Inked and defined to the phrase 'slut' every trace of humanity he had for the man was long dead. A tool to help him win back his Harley, the Joker had considered sparing him; a good deed done without any restraint it was only now that he had fated himself to being put six foot under.
He had disrespected the Joker's Queen.
Griggs was a dead man.
His Queen's body damaged, his own property damaged; there was no way in hell that he was going to leave her in this state. Her skin in need of being restored back to it's former glory, the Joker was arrogant enough to see that he personally handled it himself. Harley Quinn was his property, therefore he needed to fix her and nobody else.
Griggs was gonna have to bloody wait.
"Lay down on the bed Harls," his voice ordered, a concoction of being both stern and annoyed he moved for the side of the room where the tattoo gun was stationed. "Gonna get that bit of scum off of you."
No argument given, in fact Harley seemed rather overjoyed to have her Puddin' ink over the hideous design. A light squeal having left her lips she blissfully skipped toward their bed and buried herself amongst the many blankets and pillows, before she propped herself back up. Leg propped and the tattoo gun retrieved, the Joker shared a disgusted look with her whilst he snapped on one of his many purple latex gloves.
His girl dishonoured, the Joker knew that he had to make his claim on her renown. She was his property and no one else's, he had broken her, he had shaped her, he had created her; no one else deserved the right to her touch her but himself. Grigg's attempt in marking her foolish, it was now the Joker's turn to make his final move.
Only this time, Grigg's wasn't going to get a chance to respond.
The idea for the stencil finally sketched inside of his mind and within minutes transferred to paper and then skin, his fingers teased away at her bleached canvas. The numbing gel minimal; he moved to straddle her hips to get better access of the stencil. Prominent and directly above the pathetic design, the chosen phrase had etched its way on her skin.
The bottom of the purple rubber glove tugged, his fingers looped the tattoo gun wire round his wrist; better accuracy it allowed him to have more control of the ink. Her body already decorated with numerous other tattoos that ranged from the love heart on her neck to the 'lucky you' on the bottom of her abdomen and the 'daddy's little monster' directly above her heart; this was the one that finished it off.
After today, no one was going to look at his Harlequin the same way again, he may have lost possession of her during the duration of her stay at Belle Reves; but he had won it back. He had won back the possession that was never truly theirs to begin with. After every move that was taken by the oppositions side, the Joker would always win.
Months of imprisonment endured he had freed his Queen from the corrupted system. Their system was weak, it had taken hardly any effort of his own behalf to breach their borders and reclaim the prize that was never theirs. A strategy game that was played amongst the two rivals, it had been the Joker who always had the upper hand.
It would always be the Joker who had the upper hand.
His fingers gifted at the art of applying ink to canvased skin, through the combination of light concentration and the echo of the soft buzz that left the gun he effortlessly trailed the ink contaminated needles. Claiming her skin with a light pinch he continued to erase away at the poisoned reminder that had infused with her skin during her stay at Belle Reve. Measly a poke and stick tattoo, it proved no match for his trickery of corruption as within minutes he had manipulated the once claimed skin back for his own.
Harley Quinn was his property and his alone, he did not share.
His teeth gritted throughout the whole duration, it took him just over an hour before he had finished; his possession finally restored. His hand eye coordination proven to once again be of no match, he shifted partially to get a better angle of his work. His signature handwriting now covering a prominent section of her leg, to his sheer pleasure he had managed to coincide his new design so that it enhanced the many 'Ha, Ha, Ha's' that claimed her leg. A seen mockery, it was with his new tattoo that they would act out as his own laughter to every newcomer that dared to question his authority.
"How does it look Puddin'?" encouraged by the silence of the tattoo gun Harley shifts partially to get a better look at him. His mood no longer as solemn as what it once was he met her gaze partially before it fell back down towards his work.
Every last trace of 'slut' eliminated from her skin entirely, what was left in replacement through the Joker's own calligraphy was the embodiment of 'checkmate'. Sat homely amongst the rest of the tattoos, unlike many of them that were scattered around her legs it was this one that marked the Joker's claim on her. For Griggs had made his move on a territory that never belonged to him, the Joker's own move set it not only made his claim on Harley, but also Griggs.
Now under the threat of the Joker's tactical move, Griggs could make as many moves as he wanted but he would never find a way of escape. He would find no way to freedom or survival, for he had disrespected his Queen and property and the sentence for that was death.
Satisfied with his work, a mere mumble left his silvered lips. "I've handled the threat, what's left now is the source."
His match point set, it was now time to visit poor little Griggs to seal his victory.