The Disappearance of Harley Quinn
The Joker had been on his own for three days, and had had enough. He considered himself a very clever individual – he had in his time come up with some brilliant schemes, invented his very own Joker toxin, and disabled a nuclear warhead, among other amazing feats of intelligence. But now he stood staring in a mixture of frustration and rage at the washing machine, which had once again dyed his whites a bright pink. Not that he wore a lot of white – it didn't go well with his complexion, but he couldn't go around wearing pink gloves. It would hardly suit his image.
He picked them up and threw them angrily across the room. If it wasn't this damn contraption, it was the oven. He had always assumed cooking to be a pretty simple skill – normal people somehow mastered it, after all. But every single meal he had had for the past three days had been either burned to a crisp or still raw. And the less said about that time he had attempted to iron his clothes, the better. He was lucky he hadn't set the whole building alight.
He grabbed his suit from where he had thrown it in a heap on the floor and began dressing. This was what he needed Harley for. This kind of menial drudgery suited her to a T. He was highly intelligent, a genuis, far too clever to be bothered with these kinds of common chores. While Harley was probably about as common as you could get.
He went over to the mirror, tying his bowtie lopsidedly. Harley usually did that for him. "I'm sorry," he muttered, practicing his sincere face. "I'm sorry. You were right, baby, I'm sorry. Yes, whatever you say, Harley. Yes, I should listen to you more often. Uh huh. Yeah. Look, just shut up, you dumb blonde!" he shouted, punching the mirror and sending glass shattering everywhere. "It was your fault! It's always your fault! Now you're coming home right now before I break your face, get me, you stupid bitch?! Yeah, she'll love that," he said, returning to his normal voice and smiling.
Whistling to himself, he reached for his hat and strolled out of the hideout. He made his way to the one place Harley always went whenever they had a fight – Poison Ivy's.
He knocked on the door and Ivy answered it a moment later. She glared at him. "Joker. To what do I owe the honor?"
Joker grinned at her. "You're funny, Pammie. Good to know that after all these years you haven't lost your sense of humor."
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Don't play dumb with me, Pammie," he retorted. "I'm here for Harley, obviously."
"She's not here," replied Ivy.
He thought he must have misheard. "What?"
"She's not here," Ivy repeated.
"What do you mean she's not here?" he demanded. "Where is she, then?"
"How should I know? She's your girlfriend," retorted Ivy. "Last I heard from her, you and she were loving sweethearts again. I told her it would last a week, but it seems I was overly optimistic."
Joker stared at her, then laughed. "Oh, I get it, Pammie! This is one of your 'Harley needs to build up self-esteem' things. You're pretending she's not there so I won't take her back and you can continue the girl power talks. But it's not a fun game, and I'm not enjoying it."
"J, I promise you, she's not here," said Ivy. "Come in and see for yourself, if you want," she said, holding open the door.
He entered. Ivy waited in the hall while he searched the house from top to bottom, and then returned, looking baffled. "She's not here," he said, astonished.
"Told you," retorted Ivy.
"Well, where is she, then?" he snapped, suddenly angry. "God, it's so like the infuriating little minx to do this! She probably thinks this is really funny! She's in for such a beating when I find her, let me tell you!"
"She'll enjoy that," retorted Ivy, dryly. "But I'm sure she'll be flattered to know you're worried about her."
"Worried? I ain't worried," he snapped. "I'm just irritated, that's all. I expect her to be here when I want her back. She's always been here before. It's selfish of her not to be here, that's what it is. Selfish and infuriating."
"J, Harley's a lot of things, but selfish she ain't," retorted Ivy. "And I must say, she's right about one thing. You do need her. You're completely helpless without her. You look like hell."
"What do you mean?" he demanded.
"You've got crap all over your suit," she said, nodding. "Which looks like it's just come out of a bag, by the way. Haven't you heard of an iron? Also, that dried skeleton of a flower you're wearing saddens me. And don't tell me Harley does your hair for you. I can't help but notice it looks a lot limper than usual."
"Couldn't find the brylcreem," he muttered, running his fingers through it and trying to push it back from his scalp. It kept falling down into his face, despite his best efforts. "And it's blood on the suit. The Bat's blood. We had a punch up the other night. Normally Harley takes it off me and washes it while it's still wet, but I forgot. Anyway, Harley's good at getting dried bloodstains out."
"Yeah, but Harley's not here," replied Ivy. "And unlike you, I will admit I'm worried about her. Can you think of anywhere else she could have gone?"
Joker shrugged. "Maybe Bats picked her up? That's probably it. She's probably locked up in Arkham right now, missing me like crazy, as usual."
"Maybe one of us should go check," said Ivy.
"Good idea, Pammie. Off you go," he replied. "You're the one who's worried about her, after all."
"But I'm not the one who needs her to function," retorted Ivy. "You should go."
"Nah, I'd rather not," he replied, heading for the door. "Too much effort, Pammie. I'm sure she's fine, and I have every confidence she'll come crawling back to me the moment she's free. Until then, I'll just have to hire a new henchgirl. How are you with ironing, Pammie?" he asked, grinning at her.
In response, a bunch of vines outside the door seized Joker and dragged him outside into the passenger seat of Ivy's car. She calmly went over to the driver's seat and climbed inside, starting the engine. "Let's go, clown," she muttered.
"Gotta say, I like a dame who ties me up," he murmured, grinning. "You're passing the henchgirl test with flying colors, Pammie."
She ignored him as she backed out of the driveway. Joker reached out of the window and grabbed a passing flower, tossing out the dead one in his button hole and replacing it.
"I felt that, clown," she muttered.
"And didn't you enjoy the pain?" he asked, grinning. "No? Guess you can't be my new henchgirl after all then, Pammie. Harley will be so relieved."
Ivy gritted her teeth, trying to focus on driving. She was good at concealing her emotions, but inside she was genuinely anxious about Harley. This wasn't like her at all. She never went off on her own – she was always either with her or Joker. He was probably right – Bats had probably taken her back to Arkham. But she couldn't help feeling incredibly uneasy, and despite Joker's bravado, she thought he must be uneasy too. He didn't even try to fight with her as they drove, and only threw out a few, half-hearted insults. That wasn't like him at all either. This was bad. Very bad. She hoped Harley was all right.