Damaged
The Joker woke up with a groan and a throbbing headache, as the pain of the hangover drilled its way into his skull. "Holy crap," he muttered, licking his lips and tasting the fetid remains of last night's alcohol lingering in his mouth. The taste made him feel sicker than he already did, and so he struggled to his feet, lurching to catch his balance as the room reeled. He steadied himself, and then felt his way along the wall into the bathroom, grabbing a toothbrush and desperately scrubbing his teeth. He spat out the toothpaste, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and it was only then that his eyes fixed on the mirror in front of him.
For a moment, he was too stunned to react. And then he clapped his hands to his head, letting out a scream and a whole string of expletives, as he stared in wild horror at his reflection. "HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!" he shrieked.
"Shut up!" roared a voice, and a moment later, a familiar figure stumbled into the bathroom, leaning against the door and clutching his head. "I've got a headache the size of the Batcave, and I feel sicker than that time Alfred cooked the rotten…"
Joker stared at him, and he stared back, trailing off in slow, gradual horror as he saw the state of the Joker, covered in face and body tattoos, including the word "Damaged" on his forehead. And then he realized that neither of them were dressed in their usual costumes. "Tell me I'm still wearing the Batsuit…" he stammered.
Joker shook his head slowly. "But…you got a huge tattoo across your forehead that says 'I'm Batman.'"
"Lemme see!" snapped Batman, shoving Joker out of the way and screaming as he too beheld the heavily tattooed face and body of Bruce Wayne.
"Jesus Christ, what did we do last night?!" he roared.
"I dunno – I can't remember!" cried Joker. "You're the World's Greatest Detective, so you tell me! But look at my face, my beautiful face! What happened to my eyebrows?! What kinda freak shaves off his eyebrows?! And my beautiful body! And my beautiful teeth!" he exclaimed, noticing the silver fittings over his normally white smile. "Oh God, they're ruined! I look like what would happen if Jaws from James Bond had a lovechild with Marilyn Manson!"
"I have my secret identity tattooed on my forehead!" roared Batman. "I think I've got it worse!"
"You just make everything into a competition, don't you?" snapped Joker.
"I've got a tattoo over my heart that says Rachel," snapped Batman. "I don't even know who Rachel is!"
"Yeah, Jesus, Harley's gonna be pissed I didn't get a tattoo with her name on it," said Joker, looking around at the numerous clown and card themes that decorated his body. "Plus she's gonna be pissed in general when she sees this. She's gonna beat me to within an inch of my life, and not in a fun way!"
"Maybe you can hide it," suggested Batman.
"How exactly do you suggest I hide this?!" demanded Joker. "At least you can just go around with a mask on all the time!"
"And you don't think anybody would get suspicious that Bruce Wayne suddenly decided to start wearing a mask?!" demanded Batman.
"You could say you were burned or something, like Two-Face," said Joker. "I, on the other hand, have gotta go around with the word 'damaged' tattooed on my forehead for the rest of my life! I might as well have the word 'dickhead' on there instead!"
"I can't remember what the hell happened last night!" hissed Batman. "Didn't we meet up to fight as usual?"
"Yeah, but then we decided talking out our differences might be a more productive course of action," said Joker, nodding. "So we headed over to the nearest bar to have a few drinks. We must have had more than a few, and decided getting tattoos would be a good idea. Plus, y'know, minor bits of dental surgery," he growled, glaring at his teeth. "And eyebrow waxes."
"Yeah, it's not a good look for me," agreed Batman, glaring in the mirror. "Or you. But at least it'll grow back. Even if we get these tattoos removed, the scars are always gonna be there."
"Great, then I can ask people if they wanna know how I got these scars," sighed Joker. "And believe me, getting drunk with my nemesis and getting ridiculous tattoos is not gonna be one of the stories I tell 'em."
He groaned as a burst of pain shot through his skull again. "Christ, I need a hangover cure and pronto!"
"I need to get back to Wayne Manor," muttered Batman, reaching for his shirt. "My butler makes the best hangover cures. And I pay his salary, so he can't criticize me for what I've done."
"Yeah, I've gotta say, finding out you're Bruce Wayne has kinda ruined things between us for me," sighed Joker. "I mean, you're just a crazy rich guy. That's kinda a boring explanation for Batman."
"I'm sorry we can't all have multiple choice backstories," retorted Batman. "Now get dressed and let's go."
Joker returned to his room, flicking on the TV and then pulling on his suit. He watched the news for a few moments, and then called, "Batsy! You'll wanna come see this!"
Batman entered the room to see grainy footage being played as a news reporter said, "…unconfirmed sightings last night of Batman and the Joker in what appears to be some sort of bizarre team-up. The two foes have always been arch enemies, but last night witnesses claim they saw them hanging out together in a variety of different locations, including a tattoo parlor. Here's a collection of footage sent in by viewers…"
Batman and Joker watched in horror as footage clearly captured on bystanders' cell phones showed Batman standing on a rooftop, obviously drunk, and shouting "I am vengeance, I am the night, I am Batman!" through slurred speech. And then jumping off the roof and landing in a dumpster. Then there was footage of Batman breaking down in tears in Crime Alley, sobbing on Joker's shoulder and murmuring "It's just not fair! I just miss my Mom and Dad! Why did they have to die?! Why, why, why?! Darkness! No parents! Oh God, why are my parents dead?!"
Joker fared no better – footage of him included asking randomers if they wanted to see a magic trick, and him saying he was gonna make this pencil disappear, and then just dropping it on the ground and going "Poof, it's gone!" And then they were down by the dock, with Joker shouting into the water, "Swim, my little Joker fish, swim away! I'm gonna be a Joker fish too!" And then jumping into the water.
The two of them were shown taking turns beating up various weak, supercriminals together, egging each other on and patting each other on the back as they took turns punching out the Riddler to within an inch of his life.
There was also footage from the tattoo parlor, where Batman was lying in the chair, saying, "I'm just sick of the lies, y'know? That's all my life is, secrets and lies and masks! But no more! I want the truth branded on my forehead! I'm Batman, and I'm not ashamed to say it!"
"And you're sure you want 'damaged' on your forehead, Mr. Joker?" asked the artist working on Joker.
"Yep," said Joker. "You don't get it, but you don't get me, just like nobody does."
"And do you want it in the same crazy lettering as the rest of these 'ha ha ha's' down your body?" he asked.
"Nope. I want it in cursive, please," said Joker. "That'll look classy."
The final bit of footage was the two of them sitting on a bench, and Joker going, "No, c'mon, just think about it! What if neither of us are really real? That's why we don't die, even after all the fights and scrapes and battles! And that's why I never win, because if I win, the story's over! What if we're just two characters in a series of stories who keep getting reinvented and reinvented, with no free will of our own, just controlled by some big, overseeing, heartless corporation who doesn't give a damn about us as characters? We've just branded ourselves, but we're already branded, trademarked characters owned by other people! And what if they're just using us to make money, more and more money, and they don't care how they make us suffer as long as they can entertain people with our suffering? What if the reason your parents died was just to tell a goddamn story?"
"Do you know how crazy you sound right now?" asked the Batman on TV.
"It's not crazy – it's the truth!" shouted Joker on TV. "And I'm the only one sane enough to see you! You're the crazy one! You and the rest of the goddamn sheep in this city! Wake up, people!" he shouted out at Gotham. "Your suffering and dying is all just for fun! That's the joke! Why don't get you get the joke?! Why am I having to explain the joke?! If you have to explain a joke, there is no joke! No joke!"
"Oh, this is just embarrassing," muttered the real Batman, flicking off the TV suddenly. "And it's much, much worse than I thought. We'll never be able to show our faces in Gotham again."
"Or anywhere again," muttered Joker, gloomily. "I don't want anyone else to see this face. Maybe I'd better just go home to Harley and face the music. I mean, she loves me, right? Like crazy, devoted love. She loves me whatever I do, even when I abuse her and stuff. So this won't be a big deal."
"Uh huh," said Batman, skeptically. "Well, I'm going home to Alfred's hangover cure. He's just arrived to pick me up – I'll give you a ride if you want. Help with the damage control."
"Thanks, you're a pal," said Joker. "I guess the one upside of all this is that we're kinda vilified together, so we can still be best buddies."
"Well, you know too much about me to be my enemy now," retorted Batman. "Though I really am gonna have to leave Gotham now. Maybe I'll buy an island in the Pacific Ocean where nobody knows who I am and where I won't ever have to show my face in public again. Or maybe I'll just hang around a cafe in Italy, since nobody seems to recognize celebrity billionaires there anyway."
Alfred didn't say a word as both the Joker and Batman climbed into the back of the limousine, but he was clearly having a hard time keeping a straight face. They dropped Joker off at his hideout, still not saying a word. Joker unlocked the door and headed to the bedroom to see Harley still asleep, the golden light of the morning shining on her face. He bent over and kissed her.
"Morning, pooh," he whispered
"Mmm, morning, Mr…" began Harley, sleepily opening her eyes and smiling. Her smile froze into a expression of terror as she saw his face, and then she let out a scream of horror and rage…
And then Harley woke up from the nightmare, screaming in horror and rage. She instantly started punching the sleeping form of the Joker next to her.
"Holy crap, you dumb blonde, what are you doing?!" he roared, sitting up suddenly and fending off her blows.
"TEACHING YOU A LESSON!" she shrieked. "HOW COULD YOU, PUDDIN'?! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO YOUR BEAUTIFUL BODY?!"
"Do…what?" stammered Joker, who was beyond confused.
"Where are they?! Lemme see!" demanded Harley, trying to pull off Joker's pajamas. "How bad is the damage?! Oh, puddin', why would you ruin your perfect, perfect body with those ugly tattoos?!"
"What are you talking about?" demanded Joker, trying to push Harley away as she tried to strip him. "I don't have any goddamn tattoos! You must have had a nightmare, you useless waste of space!"
Harley's panic gradually abated, and she gradually stopped hitting and undressing him, as she realized that he looked perfectly normal – well, normal for the Joker, anyway. There was no tattoo on his forehead, he still had eyebrows, and his teeth were their normal, pearly white. She glanced at his unbuttoned pajama top to see his plain white chest, free from tattoos. "Oh," she stammered. "Yeah…guess I did. But it seemed so real, puddin'! You and Batsy had gone out drinking together, and you drank a lot, and you got a buncha tattoos, including one across your forehead that said 'damaged'! It looked hideous!"
"Does that sound like something I'd do, Harley?!" snapped Joker. "You think I'd ever be drunk enough to get a facial tattoo, especially a facial tattoo that basically says 'douche' on my forehead?! I don't want people laughing at me, especially not for stupid things like that! And Batsy would never join me in a drink anyway – he prefers to just beat the crap outta people rather than hang out with them!"
"Yeah," agreed Harley. "And he was Bruce Wayne in my dream. That was really weird too."
"See? It was a stupid dream that didn't make any sense!" retorted Joker. "Bruce Wayne as Batman! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, aside from me getting a buncha tattoos, of course! Honestly, Harley, you always overreact about everything! Just stop and think for a moment whether your anger's justified before you start taking it out on other, innocent people, huh?!"
He lay back down irritably, but Harley remained sitting up in bed, still shaking. "It just…seemed so real, puddin'," she repeated.
"Well, maybe it was," he snapped. "Maybe in some crazy, mixed-up universe, I do actually look like that. Stranger things have happened, I guess. Can't think of any right now, but I'm sure they have."
"It ain't a universe I ever wanna see, puddin'," said Harley, shuddering.
"Well, neither was that one where I was a woman, and yet I saw that," muttered Joker under his breath.
"What?" asked Harley.
"Nothing," he snapped. "Just go back to sleep, Harley."
She nodded, lying back down and cuddling against him. "Puddin'?" she asked.
"What?" he snapped.
"Can you…sleep without your shirt on tonight?" she whispered. "Just so I can see your perfect, beautiful, smooth skin so I don't feel so bad about my nightmare."
Joker sighed heavily, but stood up, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and pulling it off. "There," he snapped, lying back down again. "You happy?"
"Uh huh," said Harley, smiling as she kissed his white back. "My gorgeous puddin' is a work of art already – he don't need body art to spoil that. It would just be gilding the lily."
"Just go to sleep, Harley," muttered Joker.
She shut her eyes, kissing his back again. "I love you, Mr. J," she whispered. "My beautiful Mr. J, who's perfect just the way he is."
Joker grunted, dropping off to sleep shortly after.
He woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows and Harley still asleep. He managed to disentangle himself from her choking embrace, and then headed for the bathroom. He whistled as he brushed his teeth, rinsing the toothbrush and looking up in the mirror to see the word 'damaged' tattooed on his forehead…
And then he woke up screaming from the nightmare. Needless to say, neither of them slept for the rest of the night.
The End