Beta: RisqueSno and Bluepickle
Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters and WB owns DC and Time Warner owns WB and I'm pretty sure the rest of the world.
Author Notes: This piece is told in two segments, but honestly it was originally intended to be two separate stories. The first was to provide the setting for the other. But a story based primarily on background doesn't provide much room for any sort of climax, so it sat there, rather flat. I realized I had to combine the two in order to make this work, so please enjoy and let me know what you think.
The Box
"Move it, Harl!" Joker barked as they tore down the street on foot.
Harley was trying frantically to keep up with him and she mumbled angrily at his demands. The truth was she could easily beat him in a foot race any day of the week and the only thing holding her up was the fact that she was being forced to carry all of their recently acquired ill-gotten gains.
Batman had (unfortunately) shown up during their caper that night and they were forced to make a hasty retreat. They were lucky to have gotten anything out of the endeavor at all. Of course, they were not yet in the clear. The henchmen had been left to deal with the caped crusader, but that was only going to distract him so long.
At first, Harley had been flattered that Joker had given enough thought to include her in his getaway. Typically, he'd leave her with the boys in order to give himself a larger head start. She was sure he only did so in the heat of the moment, and immensely regretted it later, but tonight he'd grabbed her by the arm and signaled out a side door. She was beginning to wonder if it wasn't just so she could haul his junk around though.
"Puddin'! Where are we going?" Harley asked, breathing heavily. This wasn't the direction to their current hideout at all, and Batman was going to appear any second now and catch them out in the open. Almost on cue, several police sirens were heard in the background.
"Less talking. More running!" Joker ordered, while darting into a random alleyway, Harley following closely behind. Suddenly Joker halted in the center of the alley and started inspecting one of walls, sliding his hand across the bricks.
Harley wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was completely consumed in the side of this perfectly ordinary building and the sirens were getting louder by the second. "Puddin'…" she urged, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"SHHH! It's hard to find!" He waved her away and continued with his task. Harley began bouncing nervously, having absolutely no clue what he was talking about, when one of the bricks gave way under the Joker's fingers, impressing further into the wall. It triggered a small, rather complex computer console to suddenly pop out from directly below it, causing Harley to jump with a start.
"What the…" she faded out in confusion, but Joker wasted no time. He quickly ripped off a glove and placed his hand on one of the computer panels, which instantly confirmed his identity from his fingerprints. Another little light blinked on and Joker leaned into it, holding one eye open as the computer completed a retina scan. "Password," the computer requested in a mechanical voice. "Pull the pin out and throw it back," he answered hurriedly.
At that instant, the ground underneath Harley's feet vanished. She clutched Joker in terror, screaming as she fell through space. Actually, she would have described it as 'sliding' through space, but she was far too concerned at losing touch with gravity to be particular about phrasing. The secret hatch door in the pavement closed up behind them as several police vehicles sped past the alleyway.
In fact, Harley was tumbling down a large spiral slide, which she would have noted if she'd unclench her eyes. Joker was more concerned with her unclenching her grip on him; her arms locked around his neck and her legs around his waist, the bag of loot she had been carrying long forgotten and abandoned. They landed on a ratty mattress placed at the bottom of the slide and, despite the fact that she was no longer moving, Harley was still screaming at the top of her lungs into his ear. This was annoying enough without suddenly being bashed in the head with the bag Harley had dropped that had followed them down the slide.
"It's over, Harley!" he shouted at her.
Harley's screeching quickly subsided and, after Joker ripped himself out of her clutches, she started taking in her new surroundings. The first thing she noted was a large screen that was monitoring the alleyway they had just come from. She followed him through a doorway which opened into a living area that could barely be described as sufficient…and a bit of a mess. It seemed to hold all the necessities of life and little else, aside from a TV. The stale air and the thick layer of dust that blanketed everything suggested that no one had given the place any attention in quite some time. The lack of windows Harley found particularly depressing. She was surrounded by cement walls and it rather reminded her of Arkham.
Joker plopped himself on the sofa in front of the TV, rousing a cloud of dust that nearly obscured him from view as he started channel surfing. Harley was just about to start asking questions, of which she had several, when it occurred to her that he had forgotten she was there and that she'd have no better opportunity to be nosy.
Down a short hallway she found a bedroom that was about as stark as everything else she'd seen. It suddenly occurred to her how odd that was. She was so accustomed to everything surrounding her Puddin' to be loud, colorful, and extravagant. This place was…bland.
Further down the hall she opened another door and was greeted by an assortment of sharp, deadly objects tumbling out at her. It was a closet; stuffed far beyond capacity in none too orderly manner. There were instruments she was acquainted with, and some things she never would have imagined; they were all caked and smeared in places with something crunchy and brownish. Harley was familiar with the color and knew that it had at one time been red and had nothing to do with rust. She managed to avoid injury, but froze with worry that the clatter would alert Joker to her snooping. The television continued with no change and she relaxed after a few moments, moving on.
At the very end of the hall was yet another door. Behind it she found a staircase leading deeper into the ground. Something told her that going down there wouldn't be a good idea. She looked back down the hallway and still caught the blue glow from the television. Curiosity got the better of her, and she descended the first step.
Joker kept flipping to different news stations waiting for updates on his latest heist but they were slow coming thus far. He decided a snack was in order and rose from the couch in search of food. His peripheral vision distracted him though. The door at the end of the hall was opened and he was fairly sure that he wasn't the one that did the opening.
Harley still didn't feel quite sure about this endeavor even though she wasn't certain what was making her so uneasy. Whatever the reason, she found herself mustering up the courage to continue on with every step down she took. She had made it halfway down the staircase when she felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of her skull. She turned an about face to find Joker glaring at her from the doorframe with an expression that was a cross between utter confusion and fury.
"How the hell did you get in here?" he asked in that dangerous calm that always frightened her the most.
"Wh-what?" she sputtered, knowing it wasn't what he wanted to hear but completely unable to think of anything that could improve the situation.
"It's not possible," he continued, walking slowly toward her. "I've got a dozen locks and alarms all over this place. This is my personal space!" he said pointedly upon reaching her. "…You want to go down there?" He nodded to the bottom of the stairs menacingly and then grabbed her forcefully by the wrist. "Let's go!"
Harley had decided that she quite preferred it upstairs at the point and squealed while pulling back on him frantically. "You brought me here! Remember? I had the loot! And the trap door scared me!"
He stopped mid-step. That last part did sound familiar. Yes, she had been screaming in his ear. His grip on her wrist softened ever so slightly. "Ground rules," he stated.
"…O-okay," Harley agreed shakily, thankful that their descent had ceased for the moment. To her surprise, he suddenly turned and started shoving her back up the stairs, which she was more than happy to oblige with. When they reached the top, he slammed the door behind them.
"THIS is my personal space," he placed both of his palms flat against the door to omit any confusion. Actually, he thought of the entire living area that way. It was one of the few places he knew no one could intrude on. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, a part of him realized that Harley kept chipping more and more of that away, leaving him now only with what was behind this particular door. "You have no business in here. Ever! Do you understand?"
Harley nodded quickly. "Um…Can I ask a question?" she said meekly, while heading further back down the hallway to give the impression she had no intention of getting anywhere near that door again. The gesture did cause Joker's tense back to relax a little.
"I suppose," he replied with a sigh, following her into the living area.
"What is this place?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he snapped. "It's a safehouse. Bats has never found this one. I've made sure of that."
"But it's not really you," she explained. "It's very…drab."
"Yeah, I keep meaning to do something about that," he admitted, examining the room thoughtfully. "But I'm usually much too busy down here to be bothered with little things like decorating." Harley couldn't imagine what could possibly keep him busy in this vacant space, but didn't care to point it out to him. "Hey! I was about to get something to eat. Since you're here, you can do it for me," he said in a chipper tone and returned to his place on the couch.
There was a fridge, stove, and a few cooking supplies available for Harley, but upon opening the refrigerator, she found it completely empty, aside from something indistinguishable in the back that had grown rather fuzzy. She opened the freezer, hoping for better luck, and found a rather large fish. It was one of the infamous, grinning Joker fish.
Joker caught her out of the corner of his eye. "Leave that alone!" he ordered. "I'm going to get it stuffed! …One of these days, I'll get around to it."
Harley chuckled slightly at his insistence. Did he honestly think she was going to cook it? Even if there wasn't anything wrong with it, he knew she hated fish.
Clearly this safe house was seldom used, which actually made sense to her. Joker wasn't the type of person to bury himself in the ground. And, even on the occasion he'd want to get here, didn't necessarily mean he could. Taking that in mind, she decided that any food here would have to be non-perishable and turned her search to the cabinetry. Sure enough, she found plenty of boxed and canned products and set to making some macaroni and cheese.
Harley was boiling water when something occurred to her from earlier. "Pull the pin out and throw it back," she muttered to herself. Now, where had she heard that before? Realization spread across her face and she spun on her heels waving a large spoon angrily at the man on the couch. "What do you do if a blonde throws a grenade at you? A blonde joke? Are you serious?"
Joker smiled wide in amusement toward her anger. "Look, it's not my fault your people are born handicapped. …Why is it good to have a blonde passenger?" he asked, having set up the joke.
"I've heard them all before!" she replied angrily, turning back to the pot. She seethed for a little while, listening to Joker giggle on the couch. But gradually she put a positive spin on it, deciding that the password was a sign that he had been thinking about her.
"We should probably call the boys and let them know where we are," Harley commented, while bringing his food to the couch and sitting next to him.
"No one comes down here," he returned simply.
"…You mean no one else has ever been down here before?" Harley pried.
"Nope. Don't need anybody. I've got the place covered with surveillance cameras even if someone came snooping. …Well, there's the handful of people I had build this place, but if you want to call them you're going to have to hold a séance."
"…I'm the only person you've brought down here?" she squeaked excitedly.
He dropped his fork and slumped, placing his face in his hands. "You're going to make this into a whole…thing, aren't you?" he groaned.
He was right of course and she started squealing "I knew you loved me," even though he didn't think that dragging someone to a rattrap like this wasn't a typically seen as a sign of affection, and "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone how you feel," which he knew was a lie, as she'd professed his love for her to everyone under the sun despite the fact that he had never professed it himself. In between was spattered 'I love you's and 'I'll make you proud's and a loads of other crap he'd heard from her a thousand times before. He was pretty sure her voice was getting higher by the second and decided that shoving a bowl of macaroni into her face might shut her up and, thankfully, it did the trick.
Harley reentered the adjoining kitchen to clean her face and replace his food, seeing as she was now wearing it, when the door at the end of the hall caught her eye again. She knew curiosity would eventually get the better of her. It was just her nature, so she decided the best thing to do was nip the problem in the bud before she did something stupid.
She returned to the couch with a fresh plate, finding Joker engrossed in the television. Apparently the coverage about tonight's events was starting to pick up.
"Puddin'?" Harley tested cautiously.
"Huh?" he grunted, eyes fixated on the screen.
"Can I ask another question?"
"Uh-huh," he grunted again, still focused on the television.
She dropped her voice to a whisper, though she wasn't sure why. "What's down there?" she asked, nodding toward the hall.
That took his attention instantly from the TV to her throat. "What did I just fucking tell you?" he shouted while squeezing tighter. "Well? Answer me!"
Truthfully she would have liked to, but it's rather hard for one to speak when one can't breathe. She tried wheezing at him, but didn't think it came across very audible.
He suddenly remembered his long neglected closet of playthings and let go of her, quickly dashing down the hall. Harley heard the clanking of him digging through the closet and did the only thing she could think to do. She darted into the door ahead of him, barely making it past his attempts to grab her, and shut herself up in the bedroom, locking the door. Harley quickly felt trapped and didn't think a mere door was really going to hold him off. She started biting her nails and wondering what to do next when she heard a gentle knocking at the door followed by a sing-song voice saying, "Oh Harley, let me in."
That's not very likely, she thought, but decided not to say anything aloud.
The voice quickly got angry after receiving no response. "I SAID OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!" it bellowed madly and was followed by the sound of something banging against the door repeatedly. She thought it might be an ax and had distinct visions from The Shining.
Harley slid under the bed, knowing it wouldn't provide her any extra protection, but feeling better under there anyway. The banging continued for about fifteen minutes and Harley was surprised that it didn't seem to be getting him anywhere. It eventually subsided and she assumed he had given up, but had no intention of leaving her hiding place. She did, however, slide to the door and examine it. She knocked on it thoughtfully and only then did it occur to her that it wasn't an ordinary wood door. Probably reinforced with concrete or steel, she decided.
Harley sat in the dark, empty room for hours, rocking back and forth silently. She knew she couldn't stay there forever, but had no idea how to leave. Even if she could get past the Joker unnoticed, she didn't know how to trigger the hatch to open.
I wish Red was here, she thought mournfully. Visions of starving to death all alone in a miserable hole started to haunt her. It didn't take long before she just wished she'd been left to the Bat, and vowed to never complain about being left behind again if she ever made it out of Joker's safehouse alive.
"Safehouse," she whispered bitterly. "What's so safe about it?"
The way she saw it, she had two choices: She could stay where she was and look forward to a slow, agonizing death or she could leave, hope for the best, and possibly meet with a not as slow, agonizing death. It had been quiet the past few hours. Too quiet for him. She figured he must be asleep, so flipped the lock on the door and cautiously ventured forth. A pair of feet peeking over the couch, twitching occasionally confirmed her suspicions.
Harley examined the entry slide and considered trying to leave, but she remembered what Joker had said about having the place wired and felt pretty certain she'd end up tripping an alarm. She didn't think being rudely awoken was going to improve his disposition.
She tiptoed into the kitchen and quietly started collecting canned goods and a can opener, taking them into the bedroom and starting to ration them out in her head. She felt ridiculous building a safehouse inside a safehouse and knew she couldn't live long in such conditions, but had no better idea at the moment.
It occurred to her that she might have to fight her way out eventually so went to the still opened closet and started collecting various weapons as silently as possible. Her collection continued to grow as she realized, the more I have, the less he does, until she uncovered two paint cans with brushes at the bottom of the closet.
Mistah J wasn't kidding about the decorating, Harley thought, considering the cans.
All thoughts of hiding had left her, as she suddenly became consumed with a way to make amends. She quietly cast aside the weaponry in her hands and went for the cans of paint instead. They were filled with his favorite hue of purple, of course, and Harley set to painting one of the bedroom walls, leaving the door behind her wide open, so that her Puddin' could wake to her surprise. Harley continued her project, finishing one wall, and then another. She fell asleep halfway through the next, brush in hand.
Joker awoke in the middle of the night to the intense smell of paint fumes that had no where to go in the trapped space. He followed the smell into the bedroom and found Harley asleep on the floor next to the paint cans, the brush in her hand dripping purple on to the floor. He was rather pleased actually, not that he'd say as much. Besides, his mind was diverted from the paint on the walls to two piles in the room, one being a pile of his toys, the other a pile of canned goods. "Harley, wake up," he ordered, giving her a slight kick.
Her mind instantly reeled to the night before and she jumped up, backing away defensively, though Joker didn't seem to notice. "I painted!" she exclaimed, in a way that sounded more like, "Don't kill me!"
"Yes, I see that. The cans are empty. You're going out for more today. But, right now, I want to know what is up with this." He pointed to the piles. "I…Did I do this?" He considered the pile of cans in particular. "Why would I want a pantry in my bedroom?"
"I did it, Puddin'," Harley answered. "I was…uh…organizing!"
"…Organizing?" Joker asked suspiciously.
"Yes." She smiled sweetly.
"…In my bedroom?"
"Well…if I did it in the hall, then you might have stepped on something," Harley thought quickly. She picked up a particularly nasty piece of equipment as an example. "Would you like to step on this?"
"Not particularly," he agreed. The canned goods were still weird to him though. Why would she-Food! He was definitely hungry. "Breakfast!" he ordered and Harley hopped to.
After eating, it was still dark enough outside for Harley to sneak out and find a proper change of clothes in order to gather supplies. She was let out through another door she hadn't noticed in the bedroom. It would have been hard to pick out, as it blended in perfectly with the wall. Behind it, a stairway led up into a solid roof, which was actually the floor of the building the safehouse was built under. The building seemed conveniently abandoned, but, in truth, Joker had bought the property some time ago. A push of a button caused a panel at the top of the stairs to slide away and Harley emerged through the cement floor.
Joker poked his head out of the hole in the floor to give her some last minute instructions. "This is a one way door. You'll only be able to get back in through the alley."
"Well, you just thought of everything, didn't you?" she complimented.
"I always do," he agreed with a smile of self-satisfaction.
"How will I let you know I'm here?" Harley asked.
"I'll know," he answered cryptically and sent her on her way, but not without shouting, "And don't be all day about it!"
If Harley was good at one thing, it was gathering supplies. She'd become quite the expert on it over the years and security systems in most retail stores were no match for her. She supposed she could have waited until they opened and paid for the items, but that was many hours away and Mistah J didn't deem it necessary to hand her any cash.
One thing she hadn't had any experience in was lugging paint cans over large distances and that was a chore and a half on its own. There was no way she'd be dancing over rooftops with them. Fortunately, she had already had a change of clothes on the way from someone kind enough to leave their laundry out to dry on a fire escape, so walking without attracting any undo attention was feasible.
She realistically decided that she could only carry four cans, which was ridiculous when she thought about it. She imagined it'd be difficult enough for most women to manage two over the distance she was about to attempt. Not for the first time, she wondered what Ivy would think if she realized how her gift of boosted strength and agility succeeded in assisting the Joker in such a menial task.
Harley hoisted a stack of paint cans with each arm, each two cans high and grunted, "I suppose a hernia would be one of the more minor injuries Mistah J has given me."
It was around five in the morning and some early morning joggers were beginning to creep from their apartments. Those that saw Harley gave her strange looks in an attempt to figure out how a wisp of a woman could carry such a load. The looks made her nervous that she wasn't keeping herself inconspicuous enough, but she was nearly at her destination and there weren't many people out, so she pressed on.
When she finally reached the alley, she dropped the cans with a deep exhale and panted heavily. She wasn't really sure what to do at this point, having no way to get in and considered possibly jumping up and down where she thought the hatch was. But she needed the break and was in no rush so sat in the alley, catching her breath. However, she was surprised to see the hatch slide open next to her without having to do anything to trigger it. Harley rose to her feet and started tossing the cans down the slide and she followed quickly after. She was met instantly with criticism.
"You only got four?" Joker glared at her. "How are you going to get the job done with only four cans of paint?"
"Give a girl a break, Mistah J," Harley panted. "I can only carry so much at a time."
"…You carried them?" he asked in disbelief. "Harley, why the hell didn't you just take a shopping cart or something?"
Her jaw dropped slightly that the thought hadn't occurred to her. "Oy!" she declared in a defeated manner.
"You're an idiot," Joker added, before handing her the paint brush.
Setting up house was something Harley always enjoyed. Even as a child, she had preferred setting up her dollhouse more than the actual play. Making sure everything was just so really made it yours. She remembered her first very own apartment and how exciting it was to not have to worry about any roommates screwing up her vision of how things should be. She had to have blown her entire first check on home décor alone.
Of course she really didn't get to do that anymore. Everything had to match his image, so she told herself that's the way she wanted things too. After all, didn't she like to be surrounded by things that reminded her of him? She brushed purple across another wall.
Harley continued to try and make herself useful in this manner, which was rather depressing if she stopped to think about it. Despite the effort, she was always being told the many ways she was useless. And she tried; she really did. So very hard. How she could be of more use to him, make his life easier, was a constant obsession. It seemed unfathomable to try so hard and not be appreciated.
But then, she tried to see things from his point of view (admittedly, a difficult task). And, in doing so, could imagine how frustrating life was for him. The Joker was so far above everyone else, on such a higher plane, having to associate with anyone had to be so…annoying. She likened it to being constantly surrounded by children. After awhile, one starts to get tired of all the questions, of having to explain every little thing, and desires adult conversation. Children required patience after all and patience wasn't something the Joker was known for. And Harley wasn't so delusional to not include herself as one of these children. She liked to think she was his favorite though.
She tried very hard to remind herself of all this as she kept herself busy, while he spent hour after hour sprawled across the couch complaining of how bored he was. Harley didn't bother to tell him that they'd only been there for two days.
"I thought you said you kept yourself busy down here," she reminded him while trying to decide the best place for a green throw run she'd been dragging around the room.
"I usually do," he admitted. "It's never taken this long for someone to come over and play. You'd think there'd at least have been a cat or a dog or…something!" he finished in exasperation and fell in a dramatically defeated fashion onto the couch once again.
Harley didn't know what he was talking about, which wasn't far from the norm. He had made it quite clear that their location was unknown so why expect visitors…or pets? She wanted to take him gently by the hand and say, "Puddin', you're not make sense…again" and lead him down a path of more coherent thought much like she did when she was his therapist. But, of course, she had more control back then…or was it less? She wasn't quite sure. In any case, eventually everything would begin to click into place as it often did and she'd find herself understanding today's conversation…or she wouldn't. Ultimately, it really didn't matter.
"I can pick you up a cat when I go back out if you like," she replied sweetly.
"I'd rather have a person," he mumbled from underneath a throw pillow.
"Well, I can do that too," Harley offered.
The Joker took the throw pillow off the top of his head and asked in a dangerous tone, "Are you suggesting that I am incapable of such a menial task on my own?"
"NO!" Harley stated quickly. "You're the Joker!" she continued with as much awe as she could muster, which was actually quite a lot. "You can do anything! I was just saying I could if you didn't want to be bothered with it."
Joker glared at her suspiciously from over the arm of the couch. She smiled sheepishly back. Harley was grateful that he didn't seem to think the argument worth continuing as he placed the pillow back on his head and started mumbling irritably to himself again.
At that moment, loud sirens started to blare loudly and red lights flashed wildly. It was as though the room itself was panicking. Joker sprung up instantly. A wide smile crossed his face as he shouted, "Finally!" and rose to his feet.
Harley, on the other hand, made for the kitchen and remerged with a pot on her head. "Brace for impact!" she screamed. "It's the big one!"
Joker removed the pot and bashed her over the head with it for seemingly little reason before leaving the room. Harley followed behind him into the entry room where he sat himself in front of a large screen with many adjacent smaller displays. He pressed a button on the console and the room mercifully fell silent. "If only I could shut you up as easily," he quipped. She stuck her tongue out at him playfully in response.
On the screen, a young man was taking a shortcut through the alley above them. Harley realized that the alarm must activate whenever someone enters it and that's how the Joker knew whenever she had returned from an errand.
"It's no big deal, Puddin'," she offered, because he seemed so intent on the screen. "He's nobody."
Joker ignored her and readied his hand, hovering over another button. He pushed it as the man stepped on the location of the trap door and down he slid, screaming in confusion. He hit the mat shouting, "What the fuck!" and quickly checked out his surroundings.
"Hiya!" Harley greeted him once his eyes focused on his 'hosts'. He quickly started scrambling back up the slide in a most comical fashion. He made a misstep and slid back down the bottom again, before frantically making another attempt.
"It's not always that easy," Joker conversed with Harley while watching the show. "He happened to line himself perfectly. Sometimes I have to clamber myself up out of here and make a grab for them."
The man slid to the bottom again. "Give it another go," Joker encouraged. "You were really close that time." The man took his advice.
"There was this one time," Joker continued happily, "When this happy little couple crossed my way. You'd have had to seen their faces! My arms come out of the ground, snatch his girl by the ankle, and she disappears below. He runs off to the cops all bewildered. They search the alley for awhile but come up with squat. And here's the best part: He's been charged with murder!" Joker laughed uncontrollably for awhile and after calming down went on. "Makes sense to them, I suppose. She hasn't been seen in ages. He was the last one with her and making such outlandish claims of hands coming out of the ground can't be at all helpful to his case."
The Joker's new victim made several attempts at escape during this reminiscence. But, even after reaching the top of slide, realized there was no way to open the door. He settled on the mattress at the bottom, panting from exertion and panic.
"All done then, are we?" Joker asked with a hint of disappointment. "Alrighty." He unceremoniously rose to his feet and left the room. The clanking of metal could be heard down the hall.
"Listen lady," the man whispered to Harley. "My dad's loaded and will give you whatever you want to get me out of here."
"Aren't you a little old to still be freeloading on yer old man?" Harley asked.
"Wha-It doesn't matter. What kinda father wouldn't bail out his son anyway?" he responded.
"Can he get me a zebra?" Harley asked. "OH! No even better! Can he get me dolphin? One that can do tricks! Of course, he'll have to throw in a suitable pool and any required maintenance."
The man gawked back at her in confusion.
"No? That's too bad. MISTAH J!" she called. "We have a negotiator!"
"Oh goodie!" he sang as he reappeared in the doorway with a large meat hook in one hand. "I'll give you the same offer I give everyone: Can you get me an H-bomb? And I'm not talking about one of those crappy Pakistani models. That might take out a mere couple of blocks if I'm lucky. I want the real deal."
The man sputtered for a few moments before finding words. "Y-you can't really believe that's possible. Who the hell can get hold of a nuclear weapon?"
"So far, no one," Joker replied sadly. "But we mustn't give up hope! …Well, you should probably start being that you are in a hopeless situation, but why nit-pick?"
"He couldn't get me a dolphin either," Harley chimed in with a mope.
"I thought you wanted a zebra," Joker returned. "I clearly remember our last negotiator. I asked for my H-bomb and you demanded a zebra with a feather hat…for whatever reason."
"Can't a girl have both!"
Joker turned toward the victim, feeling it rude to leave him out of the conversation. "I told her that a zebra was a stupid idea. But apparently females like 'horsies'," he stated making quotation marks with his fingers. "Besides, don't hyenas eat zebras? …On second thought, Harley, we should totally get you one."
"YAY!" she squealed, jumping up and down while clapping her hands.
"You've added absolutely nothing to this conversation," Joker returned to the victim in annoyance. "Let's see if we can't make you a little more vocal." And with that he jabbed the meat hook through the man's right shoulder, causing him to let out a scream loud enough to prompt Harley to cover her ears with her hands.
"I knew I could loosen your tongue," Joker said triumphantly. "We just needed a better ice-breaker." He started to pull the man by the hook out of the room. Each tug resulted in another scream. "Jesus! I said to add to the conversation, not take over it. All this fuss over your right shoulder. It's not like there's anything vital in there!" He continued pulling him down the hallway toward the door at the end. "Daddy's going to busy for awhile, cupcake," he announced sweetly to Harley before heading down the stairs and slamming the door behind him.
After a few moments passed with Harley left alone in the hall, she shrugged and returned to her business of decorating once again.
The next couple of days went by much smoother than the previous ones. Harley was able to get a lot more work done without having to deal with her Puddin's boredom. In fact, she only saw him when he decided to emerge from below to either select a new toy to employ or for food. He was even apparently sleeping down there.
Harley could see how eager he was so took to placing food just outside the door at the end of the hall. He responded to this gesture by taping a note to the door that read, Shhhh! Secret Lair for Experimenty Things. It made her giggle. How could it not?
The only other thing that could possibly be a bother to her were the noises coming from below, but she barely noticed it, having gotten used to such things years ago. So she continued her work and soon all the rooms were painted, the accessories coordinated and personal touches were added like framed newspaper clippings of his various heists hanging across the wall.
She was amazed at how long one victim had provided him entertainment. It was as though Joker was trying to keep the body alive as long as possible, which she soon found out he was more or less.
Harley had returned home from an errand. She had trepidations on leaving at first, knowing Joker would have to abandon his activities to allow her entrance when she arrived, but it couldn't be helped. He didn't seem to mind terribly, as she was keeping herself busy doing his bidding, but would scurry back below before she barely got a glimpse of him. But on this particular instance he had greeted her forlornly.
"Is he gone?" Harley asked sympathetically.
"Yes," he replied sadly, "And he was so much fun! I miss him already."
"There, there, Puddin'," she soothed, while sorting groceries out of paper bags. "You kept him going for almost three days! That's amazing!"
"It's so frustrating!" he blurted out. "I still can't keep a body going while pulling out their intestines. Can you imagine what that'd be like? Feeling them pulled out of you and then laying there. Why won't it work? I keep them intact when I do it! What more do they want?"
"I know something that might make you feel better," Harley offered. "I got you a present."
"Present!" Joker exclaimed in a suddenly cheerful manner. "What is it?"
"Just a finishing touch," Harley said coyly. She pulled an item out of a bag, revealing a Joker fish on a plague.
"You got my fish stuffed!" he cried out in joy and snatched it out of her hands. "Oh, it's beautiful. Where should I put it?" He started holding it out in front of him, judging the best location.
After finding the perfect spot, hammering in the nail, and hanging it on the wall, they both stood back and admired it along with the rest of the room. "You're a good girl," he admitted, patting her on the head, "And now…it's time to go."
"What?" Harley asked with confusion, being thrown from soaking in rarely given praise.
"You didn't think we were going to stay down here forever, did you?" he snapped.
"No, but, I just-"
"Then what's the issue? Let's go!"
Harley sighed. She had hoped that they would stop to enjoy the place after all the work she put into it, but then, they'd probably be back again one of these days.
"Did you clean up…y'know…" She nodded toward the door at the end of the hall.
"I don't want to," Joker complained.
"Puddin, you know what that's going to be like after being left there for who knows how long," she replied reasonably. "Not to mention the smell. You've had to clean up before."
"But you're supposed to do those things for me," he whined.
Harley opened her mouth to respond but thought better of it and closed it again before saying anything. Joker caught the motion though and nonchalantly asked, "I don't suppose, you'd like to clean up my little mess for me?"
"YES!" Harley sang out before catching herself. "…I mean…I could… if you were okay with me…y'know…going down there."
"I think so long as it's strictly for clean up purposes, that'd be okay," he consented as though he were giving her something.
Harley squeaked and excitedly ran down the hall, but stopped with her hand on the door and turned to him. "You're sure?"
"Knock yourself out, kiddo," he answered. After she happily dashed down the stairs he added to himself, "What a fruitcake."
Below what Harley found was nothing special. It was a large cement box and nothing more. Of course, it was colorfully decorated with body parts and fluids at the moment, but she'd take care of that. She noted that there were darker stains on the floor and walls from previous victims and decided she try to see if there was something she could do about that, the next time she was there.
Harley never thought she could be so happy performing such menial manual labor, particularly with the level of disgust she had to deal with. She didn't think about the spurting juices that soiled her as she stuffed the body into a garbage bag, far too wrapped up on how much her bond with the Joker had developed. As she scrubbed the various blood stains off the floors and walls, she hummed a happy tune.
END
Author's End Notes: Actually, I had considered scrapping all of this when I realized I didn't have any sort of real ending prepared. But, while I was writing, it developed into much more than I ever thought it would be and I couldn't let it go. And look at me, not filling ninety percent of the story with dialogue for a change. I'm branching out!
Funny story- I've found that in my writing I tend to come up with really convoluted solutions to problems before a much simpler idea occurs to me. The transportation of the paint cans is a perfect example of this. I had practically written the entire scene out before I though, "Y'know, this would be a lot easier if she just stole a shopping cart." DOH! I almost erased the scene and altered it with this far more sensible plan when I realized what a Harley moment it truly was. That and I had a picture of Joker rolling his eyes at me while declaring that I was 'an idiot'. lol