Descent into Madness
The Steel Mill had never looked cleaner. The concrete floor was swept, grime cleaned off of the grid-like walls, and banners hung from the ceilings like stalactites in a cave. The gray interior held neither love nor warmth for the inhabitants of this ancient building. The dark and torn banners proclaimed the special event taking place: a wedding. Not just any wedding, no, the pinnacle of weddings: Harley Quinn was finally marrying the Joker. Armour clad henchmen traded their usual weapons and firearms for brooms, mops, and rags covered in filth. These men skulked around the hallowed halls and barren rooms of the Steel Mill, most muttered phrases such as "controlling bitch," "I didn't sign up for no cleaning service," and the most frequent, "I better get a raise." The more important men received the "glamorous" job of placing flowers around the mill, most dead from lack of nourishment, and arranging tables in the main hub. However, as the guards cleaned and polished, a gentle musical hum could be heard throughout the Mill.
"Lalalalalalalala," sang Harley at the top of her lungs. She could not have been happier. Today she triumphed. Today, she would be united eternally with Mr. J. Harley squealed with excitement as she saw her wedding gown lying over a metal stool in the corner of her room. Harley had revamped her room to match her mood: the walls were painted pink, hand-drawn pictures of the Joker covered the majority of any free space: most of them stained with lipstick or gratified with hearts. She jumped on her tiny bed, her blond pigtails bouncing in the air. Harley looked in the mirror standing in the corner beside her wooden drawers. Her pale skin reflected like moonlight in the dimly lit room. Unable to wait any longer, Harley tore off her black jeans and green vest and made haste to her gown. The gown almost brought Harley to tears.
"What if He doesn't like it?" Harley thought, horrified. "No, Mr. J loves me, He loves me, He loves me, He loves me!" She hadn't realized that she had begun to speak out loud.
The gown itself was quite beautiful in its simplicity. The cream bodice was studded with diamonds along the waist and collar like a beautiful Egyptian necklace. Sheer satin sleeves extended outwards, becoming larger the further they travelled from the body. The skirt was arranged in effervescent roses: each meticulously place, ending with a beautiful train that extended at least a metre.
"I'm fairly certain that I chose well" Harley thought gleefully. Of course, "choosing well" meant visiting the gown store at midnight with a sledgehammer and a satchel of smoke bombs.
Harley unlatched the hook in the back of the dress, unlocked the zipper, and slid on the gown. She then placed on her knee high leather boots and laughed with utmost elation as she examined herself. Harley undid her blonde hair from its pigtails, letting her hair cascade down her back like a golden river.
"Here comes the Groom!" came a wicked voice brimming with slyness from the hallways.
"PUDDIN'," screamed Harley, "YOU AIN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE ME UNTIL THE WEDDING, IT'S BAD LUCK!"
"Oh hush Harley, it's me!" the Joker said happily as he entered her room with brimming joy. His green hair was slicked back into a formal wave, making his pale, white face even starker in appearance, and red lips more vivid.
"Oh Puddin'," Harley said lovingly as she approached the Joker and lightly kissed him.
"You look positively effervescent," the Joker replied warmly. "But, I have a slight issue: does my suit have a dirt stain right here?"
Harley looked to wear the Joker was pointing on his dark magenta suit, examining a patch of green around the suit's chest area. Harley admitted to herself dreamily, "Mr. J and I are a perfect couple, he looks just so, so, so, handsome in his purple suit and checkered tie!" Harley bent down to view the stain at eye level, when the Joker suddenly exclaimed loudly, pressed a button on the cuff of his sleeve, causing green slime to erupt from the hidden hole beneath the "stain," ruining the top of Harley's gown along with her meticulously placed makeup.
"HAHA!" laughed the Joker in hysterics as he saw his betrothed fooled.
"Oh Mr.J," thought Harley warmly, "Always trying to pull one up on me!" Not even the Joker's tiny pranks could ruin her spirits for this glorious day.
"Mr. J., let me clean this stain anyways!" Harley began to furiously rub at the Joker's suit, pressing hard on the green splotch.
"Harley, quit it!" the Joker said gruffly. "Stop it, Harley, you're going to ruin the gadget underneath it." "HARLEY STOP" yelled the Joker as he backhanded Harley across the face.
Harley recoiled and sat on her bed, tears dripping from her face, a red mark etched on her china-doll skin. She sobbed. She sobbed for what seemed like eternity, stopping only when the Joker embraced her and whispered, "Sweetums, you know I don't like to get riled up that way, here let me help you up."
Harley reached for the Joker's extended hand, only when coming into contact with it received a severe electric jolt from the hidden ring. The Joker laughed as he raced out of Harley's room gleefully hooting and hollering at her pain.
Harley sat back on her bed and stared at the door where her beloved had just been, her sorrow turning to a crooked smile: "How could I stay mad at him?" she thought lovingly, "He's him and I love it, I love it, I love it, I love it." Harley returned to humming her sweet musical tunes as she reapplied the makeup and reached for some stain remover.
-
The wedding ceremony that night was beautiful in Harley's eyes as she reflected upon the evening so far: she and the Joker had wedded, only 2 worthless henchmen were killed, and best of all, bat-brains hadn't come to spoil the night. Everything was like a fantasy, one that she never wanted to wake up from.
"May I have this dance?" bowed the Joker to Harley in the middle of the main hub: the floor was lined with a pristine white cloth; numerous men were seated at tables around the perimeter of the area, eating the free food; some even dancing with dates or bought prostitutes.
Harley smiled so broadly it felt her face would break. She grabbed her beloved's hand, and together they slow danced the night away. Harley sighed as she leaned against the Joker's chest, letting the rhythm from the music I the stereo lead her thoughts and move her soul.
"This is perfect Puddin'" whispered Harley in the Joker's ear. Harley knew "perfect" was an understatement as they waltzed along the floor, her eyes gazing into the Joker's.
"How about we cut the cake Harley?" suggested the Joker lightly.
Harley nodded her approval as the Joker yelled "CAKE, FETCH THE CAKE."
Two henchmen wheeled out a steel cart lined with a large snowflake doily. On top of the cart was the most magnificent cake Harley had ever seen. The cake layers were square, each stacked perfectly on top of the other. Although traditional in looks: white fondant, piped rosettes, flourishes, and other garnishes, the top tier featured a single joker playing card, held in hand by a Harlequin doll.
The henchmen gathered around the cake, hungry for that first sweet bite. After all, they had been working for the Joker for eons and felt they deserved a little treat! It was their night off!
"STEP ASIDE" commanded the Joker, as he led his wife to the cake: the tray now sitting in the middle of the hub. Harley pushed a few henchmen blocking her path, laughing as they fell to the ground; so perfect…
"I do believe that the boring tradition is that we slice the cake together, and feed each other a slice," said the Joker, brandishing a knife and angling it onto the cake tier.
Harley stood there in excitement, she had dreamed of this moment since she was a little girl; the man of her dreams, the wedding, everything. Tonight she was going to be ravished and have little Puddins' and together they would raise a happy family and ha-
Harley's musings were cut short as the Joker smacked her face with a handful of cake: the icing splattering all over her face, dress, and hair. The Joker could not contain himself, he began to laugh so hard that he buckled over and had to grasp onto the side of the cart. Wheezing, he tried to contain his laughter to only go higher in pitch, making his maniacal laughter sound even more sinister. He only stopped after the knife had slashed into his throat.
The Joker looked up, looked down, looked up again, and saw Harley standing over top of him, a glazed look in her eyes, looking, but not seeing the present. The Joker gurgled as blood poured out of his wound, rushing down his pristine suit and pooling in the ground.
Harley stood there unmoving as her beloved Mr. J died before her. Her hand dropped the cake cutting knife, now stained with the blood of the Joker. No one moved. The henchmen stood there, gazing at the gruesome scene in front of them. Harley, in turn, sat down, cake stains rampant over her body and clothes; mascara running from her tears yet she felt no sorrow. She felt nothing. Harley sat for ages. Days? Weeks? Months? She did not care. She did not exist. She couldn't exist now. The abyss called to her, mocking her. It now had what she desired most. Harley then began to make her first sound. Her throat raw from lack of use: at first the noise began as a low wail, and slowly raised and becoming more frantic, faster and faster, transforming into a cackle bright as a church bell. "I love churches," thought Harley cheerfully, "one church, two church, red church, blue church, HAHA. The cake is a lie HAHA. Dum de dum de dum."
-
This state is how the Arkham city police found Harley in. Humming merrily as she sat next to Joker's blood pool, looking out at the moonlit trees, "LOOK A LEMUR" said Harley to no one, "LOOK MR. J."
The police escorted Harley to Arkham Asylum, where she would be treated for madness and be incarcerated for life: but for her own safety.
"Oh Mr. J., I love you," said Harley in her jail cell, still wearing her wedding gown which was now covered in filth, stains, and tears. "Oh how I remember how we first met, don't you?"