He wore a permanent smile, raised scars stretching his lips over to his cheeks in a grin. But right now, he was smiling anyway. Though, by looks, the Joker's blue-grey Arkham uniform and unpainted face didn't do his moniker justice, that smile and those ever-piercing eyes made sure passersby knew who was behind that door.
Every day... for months he was behind that door. Lying, just as he was now, and waiting patiently. Waiting for her to come.
It was Wednesday and she was never late for their appointments. Each week she became more interesting, more useful. Joke couldn't help but think today his lovely psychiatrists Harleen Quinzel would have a breakthrough with him.
It was funny, really, how easily she was bending to his will without so much as a doubt. He had told her of his life the way he remembered it each day and it seemed to him like young miss Quinzel was too preoccupied with feeling mortified to notice the occasional discrepancies (such as the story about mommy and the Christmas present when only last week he had mentioned how mommy died long before that day). And if she was sorry for him and wanted to help him then by all means she should!
Of course... His view of being "helped" included less pills and straitjackets in dark rooms and more freedom and facing Batman as the world slowly burned away. And he knew the girl would be terribly useful to him, oh yes; it wouldn't take much more to break her completely and he'd be busting out of Arkham as the other inmates were left to dwell in their insanity and self-pity.
But The Joker was pulled out of his train of thought with the sound of a door being unlocked - the door to his cell, more precisely. He needn't look up; it was her, punctual as usual.
He licked his lips before speaking. His mouth was dry, as it usually was nowadays.
"Good afternoon, doctor Quinzel." And it was a frightening sight, at the very least: the words had left his mouth before her figure was even fully visible and in spite of how casual his tone of voice may have seemed to him, to others he looked no less dangerous than he had proven to be in several occasions. And perhaps this was one of the more interesting things about Harleen Quinzel; she didn't seem nearly as frightened by him as almost every guard in the building did.
Harleen smiled a bit.
"Evening," she replied, attempting to seem entirely composed. The truth was when she saw the supposed madman, her heart sped up. "Should we start off where we left last week then?" she asked, drawing a small notebook from her side pocket. She clicked the pen and tapped it lightly on the paper. And Batman was a vigilante and now, a criminal. And Joker wanted to stop him... Harleen saw more in Joker than everyone. He wasn't bad... No one was just bad.
He smiled wider as she seemed to be going off into her head again, thinking about him. Then, he registered that her question should've brought a bit of sadness to his face. He frowned a little and dropped his eyelids.
"Yeah Doc. I think I can share," he said with a little nod, pausing for dramatic affect as he sat up on his bed.
"Do you remember where we left off?" Harleen asked with with an encouraging look; she had a small smile planted upon her lips and it grew just a little bit more once he nodded in approval. It must be painful for him to speak about his life... But she had come to realize that if he told her and not others then it was because she believed him and didn't treat him like trash. She actually believed he wasn't an empty shell of a man and it was by gaining what she believed was his trust that things worked out so well - and she couldn't be happier about it.
"You see," Joker licked his lips once and shifted his gaze up towards one of the corners of the room. He didn't need much more time to come up with a story; they sort of came to his mind, different every day like actual memories. "When I was a teenage boy, there was this, this girl. She was really pretty. But she acted like I wasn't even there!" He raised his hands in slightly exaggerated movements; it was something normal for him, though. Much like the emphasis on some of the words. "So one day at school I tried to talk to her and you know what she did? She, she called her friends over and they started calling more people. And all the while she just stood there glaring and then she started saying horrible, horrible things while the others laughed."
His voice deepened slightly at this point and he looked at Harleen; her eyes had widened considerably like she was picturing the scene herself, watching him, her beloved patient, young and scarred and mocked by others. "It went on for days, Doc. All the pranks and all the names... It was all a bad joke. A bad joke. One. Bad. Joke." He paused. Those thoughts would soon get to him if he didn't take a bit of care and he wouldn't want to stab doctor in the eye with her pen. He sighed dramatically and closed his eyes for a moment- "And all because of these." He finished, his tone less deep and threatening as he pointed to the scars on his face.
He managed to surppress the giggles that wanted so badly to come out at he looked at his victim to see if his story had as much effect as it should've. It certainly had. Harleen's eyes were shining back at him with tears.
What a poor child. She gripped the pen tightly in her hand as she looked at the broken boy.
He wasn't sick, not by his own fault. Week after week, she'd listen to another tale about his monstrous father, his invalid mother. Of emotional and physical abuse from everyone that passed through his life, and how Batman embodied them.
Joker couldn't hold that face forever, so he swung his legs off the bed, bowing his head in distress.
Truthfully though, hidden behind that curtain of dark hair ... he was grinning. Harleen, however.. Saw distressed. Vulnerability. Humanity.
Joke knew this. Children on a playgroud, what a perfect finish... one last straw to break the camel's back. He grinned wider as he heard her stand up, even walk toward him.
She couldn't just sit there while this man sat in his pain.
He had been left alone for so long because no one saw what she saw in him. He just needed someone to love him, to help him heal."I
"I'm sorry.." she said sympathetically as she stood at his bedside. Then she sat down quietly next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Joker lowered his head further, shaking it slightly. "And all because I was different, Doc..." He should be in tears, but his face didn't match the tone of voice in which he spoke: he was still grinning and it was becoming increasingly harder to not burst out laughing at her reaction. If he was any other human being he wouldn't have pushed it this far without feeling regret. But really, regret wasn't something he counted on feeling anytime soon.
"I'm... I'm glad you came along though." He frowned, trying to turn his gleeful expression into a gloomy one. When he was sure he wouldn't start grinning again all of a sudden he turned his head to look up at her. "You're, you're not like them." He was so close to breaking her now, he knew it. "They... They never helped, they just made it all worse. They don't listen and the way the treated me all these years... It keeps convincing me that it's hopeless to get better." He paused, breathing deeply. He couldn't be more proud of his theatrical skills right now. "But you, you listen to me. And you make me, you make me hope for a... A future. Freedom from all of these horrible memories and all these feelings."
Lies! He had a future, alright, but that future didn't go through years of counseling. In fact, his future was just so close he could almost grasp it.
Harleen was fighting to hold back her tears now. He wasn't a monster, a "freak" as others said. He was a man who had gone through so much and even with his mind molded to the way it was, he was still so strong! Was she the only one who saw how he was hurting? Leaving him after each session had become increasingly painful but this time she wasn't sure she could leave him alone for the rest of the week - goodness knows what it did to him!
Her hand moved slowly over his shoulder and she almost wanted to reach over and touch his face. Assure to him that everything would be alright. But those words seemed so empty more often than not... She didn't want to break all this trust, she didn't want to break him even more.
He felt her hand moving and cautiously, ever so cautiously, moved one of his. To her it seemed he was afraid to be hurt again, afraid she'd reject him as much as anyone else. But truthfully, he was fighting the urge to grab her wrist and twist it. .To force her to let him out. But that would ruin everything.
No, he'd been patient this long, and he was so close now that he didn't want to waste all of his patience now. He pushed the desire for violence back and laid his hand on top of hers.
"Doc, you know I can't get better here," he said quietly, slowly harvesting the seed he'd planted. "I want to get better.. Be better. But Arkham is not the place for anyone to do that.."
He said, a flash of maliciousness crossing his emerald eyes before he reigned it in again.
She nodded in a hesitant agreement. He was right.. No one ever came into Arkham and was released again, better for it. It wasn't a rehabilitation center so much as a death sentence.
He smiled at her nod.
"Then.. You'll help me? Help me get better... really?" he asked, long tongue laving out over his lips again.
"Ye-yes, I..." Harleen paused. A more logical part of her was trying to remind her of what this all meant; she was agreeing to let the Clown Prince of Crime escape Arkham. It was illegal. Unethical.
And in all honesty she wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't and he only got worse.
He faked surprise; he wasn't expecting her to disagree but anyone else would have. And her broken little boy would have too, he figured.
"Will you really, Doc?" He even looked from one side to another and blinked as if making sure this was all real. "Will you really save me from this, this hell I'm trapped in?"
It was a desperate plea; she couldn't bear the thought of letting him down now. It would hurt her. And he would hurt her. But she wouldn't care because it would hurt him more and she didn't want that, not at all.
Silence settled between them for a moment. He was waiting; he had pushed her off the edge like a doll and he was waiting for her to finally break. And she... She was pushing away the uncertainty, the part that was telling her to say no, to run and to let him lose it for good.
And it was all becoming so confusing; so much in fact, that for a moment her heart was racing and she was breathing faster and she might have just fainted or screamed but something in her suddenly clicked and it all went back to normal. And she was fine and still on the verge of tears because she couldn't stand seeing him in pain and the first thing that came out of her mouth was a "Yes." Simple, straight to the point and this time without hesitation.
His fish had not only nibbled the lure, but had had jumped right in the boat with him. Just as expected.
Joke was excellent at manipulation; look at how he had sullied Gotham's White Knight. To that, Harley Quinzel would would just be another tool, not as important, but still.. He could get his use out of her.
Perhaps even beyond using her as a means of escaping. She believed him.
Every lie that slipped past his scarred lips she was drinking in and sharing his false pain.
"Thank you, Doc... Harleen..." He said, patting the hand on his shoulder. He swallowed, trying to keep the hideous laughter that conquering another spirit gave him.
He looked to Harleen like he might start crying again, though.. this time, relief. All he wanted was someone to help him.. He was already doing so much better.
"..Harley. Just Harley," she said quietly. Though, now she had promised to help him get out... She really had no idea what she would do.
Joke, as ever, had a plan.. And now that he knew she was wrapped entirely around his maniupultive finger, a harlequin marionette, a simple plan was already forming inside of his warped head.
"It won't be.. easy." Yes, yes it would. He could've been out months ago if he'd just grabbed his little therapist as a hostage. "He'll get me, you know.. If I move . .If he knows where I am. He'll find me."
Harley turned around to make sure the guards weren't eavesdropping before she dared to speak again.
"He won't find out." It wasn't just empty words to try and reassure him. She may not have been by any means a genius, but she was creative enough to come up with something. Something simple but something that worked. And she knew what it was already. "I work here, I could get you out of without causing a commotion." She placed her other hand over her and smiled ever so slightly; he seemed so harmless now. How could people think so badly of him?
"And I wouldn't leave you on the streets by yourself. We can find some place... Perhaps not my house, they might think it's an obvious hiding place... But there are a lot of places in town to choose from, I think." She shrugged but it wasn't out of indifference. She just figured he had an idea of his own. "I'll help you get better, I'll listen to you... I won't let him find you."
He had to actually hold his breath for a few seconds or he'd laugh like the maniac he truly was. This... This young lady was so devoted to him that she thought she could keep the batman out of the way!
Oh, she was worth all the effort; she truly was, too much fun. "Thank you Do- I mean... Harley." He even offered her a small smile which she would see and that little bit of hope already getting to him. "When... When can you... Help me? When will I be free from these, these... chains?"
If he had any belongings there he would have started packing already.
Harley couldn't help but return the small smile she'd received three-fold. How could anyone not see this? After all the hurt and pain.. he was still good at heart. He wanted to be protected from Batman and to be out of his cell... He wanted to get better. How could she deny him this?
"Soon," she insisted, adjusting the reading spectacles she wore. She'd need to find someplace for him to stay. And a way to get him out. "Very soon, " she added, biting her bottom lip as she thought about it.
He was rather impatient, waiting for her to orchestrate a simple escape plan. But he could hold his tongue just a bit longer.
He licked his lips, staring at the thoughtful girl before he could restrain an interjection.
"If you could just.. pause the security equipment, no one would be the wiser when you.." 'Let me escape' was what came to mind, but he thought better and said, "help me get free.." He shifted a little more, the excitement of having Gotham to toy with again making him smile wider.
Harley listened to his timid idea, "I think I can do that.." With her marks she was a trusted member of the staff. She'd just need to grab some keys.. The night guards were few in number and less attentive anyway.
Many nights inmates would be screaming and they wouldn't bother to do more than check the night-vision cameras.
She needed to get him out fast though, before that hope she'd given him faded away. She couldn't bear the thought of hurting him like that.
It was all working exactly how he wanted it to. She hadn't questioned his motives and kept thinking he was just trying to become healthy, "sane" again – though really he'd rather be mad than like those 'civilized people' out there, filled up with useless moral codes, living their boring lives until someone like him arrived and made it all so much better.
"I hope you can help me quickly. I'm a bit worried about... About what they can do when we least expect." He paused, tapping his feet lightly on the floor; he may have looked nervous to her. "I don't want to die in here, Harley."
Harley was silent for a good three minutes, thinking about how exactly she was going to do this. All the while he just sat there like a child, tapping his feet. Tonight, tonight, it had to be tonight.
"Tomorrow night," she started, her voice barely above a whisper; she wouldn't dare saying it loud enough for any guard to hear. "Tonight I have to get everything ready. And it will be less suspicious if it's not on a Wednesday. It will buy us more time before they decide to, I don't know, contact me." It was a horrible scheme but she liked it; and Joker had to give her credit for it. And oh, how wonderful it would be when she realized what a mistake she was making.
Again, he had to resist the urge not to attack her. That black pen would have done the job nicely, he had to admit.
He hated negotiating.. Hated it, but he tried to cover his anger by just seeming upset. His tongue licked the corners of his mouth again as he thought the situation over.
She had turned out more useful than he thought...If he let her.. let her think he was willing to do what she wanted, she'd be his.
"...Okay.." he said, looking down. "Tomorrow then... But while you're in there.. could you get my suit?" He asked, furrowing his brow to look a bit upset. He happened to like that suit, and he didn't want any bastards keeping HIS suit.
"I think I can manage that..." Harley said with a smile. He obviously didn't want to spend another night in Arkham, the sad look on his face said it all. "I promise though, tomorrow night you'll be a free man.. And I can help you," she assured him. Her heart was racing again as he cracked another smile at her.
"Thanks Harley.." He said.
Now if she'd just leave him alone before he snapped and changed his mind.
The day had been going by slowly. Too slowly, as opposed to the previous night.
Harley had stayed only for a few more minutes, asking him a couple of routine questions and taking notes and had left with that promise of freeing him. After that, everything seemed to have been fast-forwarded in a way that The Joker didn't remember much more than falling into a dreamless sleep and waking up who knows how many hours later.
But then it's like time had slowed down. Perhaps it was the excitement.
He had been terribly good at hiding it so far. He was acting like he normally would (though his behavior was always far from "normal"), but deep down he was feeling giddy and angry at the same time.
Patience was a virtue, they said. He wasn't quite sure of that, considering what he had pulled off so far by being patient.
But the time was drawing closer and the smile he often wore grew wider as soon as the lights on the inmates' cells finally went out.
She'd be here soon and he'd be free and ready to claim back his city.
She clocked out at 5 p.m., as per usual, turning in her notes and saying goodbye to the office women on the way out. But she wouldn't be clocking back in tomorrow morning.
She went back to her one bedroom apartment and got everything shed need.
"Wire cutters, check... " she said, breathing to still her rapidly beating heart. "Mace.. Check. " It went in the small black bag she carried.
"Uniform... Check." She remembered the first time she had met him.
He giggled.. Not maniacally; not really. Just a giggle. She asked him why... He said her name.
It'd taken her a long time to get the joke, but she got it. Harleen Quinzel.
Harlequin. And she knew that there was no point in helping if she didn't get the Joke. She pulled on a small black mask, covering her eyes. Next was a red shirt, black shorts, and leggings; one black, one red. She pulled her hair up and tucked it into a hat, and with that Harley Quinn was off.
It was after eleven. The lights in the cell had been off an hour. .As long as she avoided the motion sensors she'd get to the security room easily. Harley had the advantage of blue prints, which she had snuck out of the office the night before, as she had promised. "Check..." She said, smiling as she put the purple costume that belonged to him in with her other things.
Retrieving the key to his cell was easier than she had thought. The guards would leave the security room for a short period of time to get their coffee and check on things and she was in and out of the room before they were even thinking of returning; and while Harley wasn't an ace with several high-tech gadgets, she had still managed to shut off the cameras rather quickly. It was a flaw in her plan, a bit obvious because the guards would see it upon their return. But it would buy them enough time. It was just so convenient that the Joker had been placed in a cell not far from the nearest door out of that death row. It was like they were inviting him to leave at any time.
She ran as fast as those years of gymnastics allowed her to; she tried to be quiet but the insomniac ones weren't oblivious to the figure running past their cells and screamed, though not exactly about an intruder but more about the random things that came to their minds. She couldn't be happier that this was a house for the insane.
He could hear her footsteps as they neared her. It had taken her long enough; but he hadn't lost hope in her, no. He knew she would come, she was broken and completely devoted to his will and there was no turning back from it now. Not unless she had regained her sanity in a bit over twenty-four hours – and he knew she hadn't.
He had been sitting on the floor for a while now, legs spread in front of him in a childlike manner and he was looking at the door; he heard the click of a key and mechanisms working their way to unlock the object. And when the door was pushed back, instead of standing up immediately and running off he could not help but to stare. The dim light of the few lamps that lit the hall weren't of much help but this… This was astounding. After all this time she had finally understood the joke. True, he hadn't expected her to go to such length but he was impressed. And from what little he could see in this dark place, she looked at least half decent – unlike one Pamela Isley, two rows down, left side, who had been brought into the Asylum in what the Joker suspected was a bathing suit and tights.
Harley moved closer, offering him her hand – it was a simple gesture and she didn't even register that he might break her arm and leave her here. "We don't have all night, you know?"
Joke looked up at her, unmoving from his spot. His dilated eyes, permanently diabolical looking, moved over her to the bag she carried.
The suit better have been in that bag, or she might as well signed her own death warrant. He would hate having to break back into this place just to get his possessions back.
"Whatever you say, Doc," he said, grasping her hand and pulling himself up. His face was twisted into a half smile, still partially amused at the trouble she'd gone through to impress him. It was rare that anyone could cause the clown prince of crime to be amused, so that was quite the undertaking. Enough for him to allow her to lead the way out instead of forging his own path.
The hand grasping hers was rather tight, but she had no doubt he was just as nervous as she was about escaping. She'd never guessed that he was just incapable of contact without some measure of discomfort involved. She peeked into the hallway again, making sure no guards had wandered into the hall. When she saw it was clear, she led the quiet run down the way.
Funny enough, the criminals seemed to quite down when they realized who she was escorting.
Joke let go of her hand when they made it to the door. But, just as she opened it, a red light flashed above it.
"Silent alarm?! You didn't--" He rolled his eyes, his teeth grinding slightly. Oh well, they were already out.
He could just.. Ah, but she had the suit. He grabbed her by the arm and darted off, unable to keep laughter from bubbling past his lips as they ran.
Harley had completely forgotten about the alarm and even whispered a small "oops" when it went off, just before he grabbed her arm and they ran for the exit. And as they ran away and out the facility she realized just how contagious his laugher was and soon enough she was laughing too – though granted, not as loudly and hysterically as him.
Chaos ensued in Arkham. Only moments after their grand escape the guards were already gathering, calling for important names, checking for any other escaped inmates. But they were all there, all but him, the Joker. And they could only hope, through phone calls and as they released the dogs, that Batman hadn't left for good.
And of course, Joker was hopeful that Batman hadn't left for good, too. The thought of seeing the Dark Knight again and pull him into one of his games made the Ace of Knaves a happy (mad)man.
"This way!" Motioned Harley, pointing to one of the corners just past the high walls surrounding Arkham Asylum. Her car was parked not too far from there, just far enough to go by unnoticed by anyone who might recognize it. It wasn't in her master plan to escape in her car forever and find some hideout. But for now it was a good means of transport to get them away from that hell.
Joke smiled as a car came into view. By the way she was heading toward it, it was no doubtlessly hers. He would have just stolen one anyway, but this worked out just fine since he didn't really care if she was caught.
"Keys." But, he did care who was driving. They were out of there, now it was his turn to be boss. He stopped in front of the black camero and let go of her arm to hold out his hand.
Harley blinked, a smile still on her face. This was exhilarating.. She couldn't really blame him for his crimes if this was the sort of rush he got.
She put a gloved hand in her shorts and produced the keys, not hesitating a moment before handing them to the serial killer.
He took them immediately, wrenching open the door and flopping into the drivers seat. He barely waited for her to get into the passenger seat before peeling out and tearing down the paved road.
"I know just the place," he said, scarred lips pulled apart in a grin. His eyes darted from the road to Harley as he spoke. "..But I want to make a ..quick stop first."
If what he'd heard was right and the Batman was in hiding, Joker was going to draw the flying rat out. He laughed, no longer trying to repress himself as he sped down the road.
Harley was still struggling to stay still in her seat enough to put on the seat belt when he was already driving at a high speed, laughing while he did it. But soon enough she was able to sit back and take a deep, deep breath. She wasn't… 'Scared' of him. He was still unstable; she couldn't expect him to have the most normal reactions – and much less now that she was beginning to act a bit strangely herself. She recognized the way they were going until he turned a certain corner and she realized that this part of Gotham wasn't known to her.
"Where are we going?" She asked with a frown. Only now had her mind fully registered the "make a quick stop first" statement.
But he didn't answer. He was still too caught up in this overwhelming sense of joy (joy for being out of Arkham again while the others bit their nails in jealousy, joy for finally being able to play his little games, joy for having his little toy – Gotham – back) and in a way, answering or not she'd still have to wait and see. Because that's exactly what he would have told her; to wait and see.
Harley was looking at him expectantly until she finally understood that he wasn't going to say anything. She decided not to force him to answer. She had never done that, she had always been patient with him. Now was no different, she was still going to help him and being out here was no excuse to act like another of Arkham's doctors.
How long they were in that car remained unknown to both driver and passenger and the sky was even darker once they finally pulled to a stop. It was an old warehouse area with a few cars pulled over here and there. Some of the structures had burned walls and broken doors while some others seemed to be in an almost perfect condition. The Joker opened the door and stepped out, quickly making his way to the other side of the vehicle to open her door. But he wasn't opening the door for Harley as a gentleman would, no. The first thing he did was to snatch the bag from her and tell her to hurry as he started making his way down one of the dirty paths to one specific warehouse.
Harley nearly ripped out the bloody seatbelt as she struggled to get out of the car and follow him. But the walk was short before he found the door he wanted and made his way in, making his way into the wide, empty area. It was dark and still smelled like something was burning and it made him grin wider. Harley, on the other hand could only stare down at the ground. There was a liquid… Some sort of fuel, perhaps? And some bits of paper – which upon closer inspection proved to be the remainders or bills. Had he done this?
God the smell. He missed it so much. Not just the smell of the burned money and the fuel, but the smell of fear. Fear still there after all those months.. fear and anger. It smelled like home, like Gotham.. Like winning a game.
Bats may have thought he won, barely.. But that had only been the first round.
Joke opened the bag as Harley watched, obviously a little confused about why they were here.
"Unfinished business," he said simply, looking back to the bag she'd brought. Thankfully, the suit was nestled inside. He pulled it out quickly, ditching the Arkham grey uniform without a thought of modesty or embarrassment. Harley, however, blushed a little under her mask and politely turned her head. Of course he was obsessive about these things, the clothing had helped define him for so long.
She wouldn't expect anything more from him so soon. Though she had noticed the light scarring on his upper arms in places, that was something he'd never mentioned in their sessions.
He pulled on the purple pinstripe pants and the olive green vest. It was like slipping into a familiar bed for the maniac.
When the jacket was added, he dug his hands into his pockets and produced a set of matches.
Striking one, he lit the Arkham clothing on fire, smiling at the flaring flame before he tossed the clothing into the remaining pile of bank notes and fuel. "There.." he said.
To his marionette it would look more like a misguided attempt to get rid of that part of his life.. His imprisonment. But really, it was to get a point across. To Him.
This wasn't a random arson.. It was a call-out. And Bats would answer.
He started walking back to he car, his shoulders slumped as he swayed slightly, making the slightest motion for Harley to follow. And she did, grabbing the bag quickly and catching up to the other.
When they reached the car, she instantly made her way to the passenger seat while he walked to the driver's seat; it was almost like an old routine although it had only happened this once. Harley didn't bother with the seatbelt this time and Joker didn't bother to mention it. It's not like it would make any sense to follow the rules anymore, no one would be congratulating them for it anytime soon.
He started the car and started driving in another direction she hadn't seen or heard of before and it was only after a good twenty minutes of driving around dark, deserted streets with old abandoned buildings that she finally decided to voice the question she had been trying to find the answer for.
"Where are we going now?"
Joker had been too absorbed in thoughts, in his own little world, to pay attention to the Harlequin next to him. The silence did not bother him the very least but it seemed to have bothered her after a while. He almost told her that HE was going to find a hideout to stay at but decided against it; she was coming with him as well and she'd be useful, much more than the masked pawns in his little bank robbery games. He would just have to hold back the urge to cut up that pretty mouth of hers and leave her to die in a corner.
"Home." Was his answer and while the word couldn't be any less accurate, he found it fitting.
Harley furrowed her brow a little bit as she took the thin black mask off her eyes. Home.
Joker had never really spoken well of his childhood home, so it was a bit hard for her to imagine him so eager to get there. She knew it couldn't be much, not if police hadn't found it and raided it since his capture.
Still, she wasn't afraid. He was taking her a long... He wanted her with him, and that meant that he wanted her help.
And he did want her help. But only in continuing his games of Cat and Mouse- or.. Bat and Mouse perhaps, for the city of Gotham. She was gullible, devoted, like any good villain. But she was another thing... Innocent.
And Bats couldn't resist all the plans he suddenly had for her unfurling in his head .
But he needed to calm down some, now that he had made his point to the city by finishing his job at the warehouse. Slow down... as much as he hated to... and wait. Like he had been for several months in Arkham.
He pulled the pretty black car to a screeching halt, tearing out of the seat like there was someone in the backseat.
His hands stuffed themselves into his jacket pocket as he walked around the vehicle. He looked over his shoulder at Harley as she was getting out.
She couldn't help but smile when he looked back at her, asking her to follow him. Of course, she obliged, quickly getting out of the car and following him down the narrowing alley. Again, the buildings seemed broken down or burnt. Though Joke had nothing to do with this incident.
One building was burnt down to the bare structure, and she followed the madmen inside the dilapidated building that looked like it could crumble at any moment.
It didn't look any nicer on the inside, but Joker didn't stop walking either. He passed several remainders of walls before abruptly stopping in the middle of the floor.
He kicked away at layers of dust on an old burnt rug and pulled it aside, revealing a door. It opened with a crack and he walked down into the cement basement, whistling a jaunty tune.
It had been an old fallout shelter, and she had to admit.. It was a rather clever place to hide. But Joker was quite brilliant, wasn't he? The place was far from nice, but it wasn't really uncomfortable either.
He flipped on a switch, turning on the single bulb in the room.
It was dusty, but otherwise not entirely unclean. But something about the arrangement of the furniture was unsettling. There was a hall off to one side, hinting at the possibility of more rooms.
"Don't get a lot of company.." he said, brushing a bit of stringy hair back and licking his lips. Might as well be conversational.
"We need him," Gordon said quietly, looking off the roof. Blocks away, he could see smoke rising from the old warehouse. The Bat Signal might've been destroyed...But someone else was calling the hero out now with a signal of his own.
Harley took a seat in the old couch she was standing next to. She had expected for it to break completely under her weight, what with its dilapidated state – as it was with most of the objects in the room, though she wasn't particularly bothered by it, or the smell that most people would considered somewhat unpleasant. Well, she did too but it wasn't unbearable. She had gotten used to this sort of thing through Arkham and its patients. She had seen a lot of people there, all of them fascinating but not nearly as much as this man. And it almost like a fairytale that he had taken her with him, to teach her of freedom, to start over.
She wasn't shy by nature but she wasn't entirely sure of what to tell him as he sat next to her, either. She couldn't bring herself to ask what he was planning to do now… It almost sounded like she thought he was going to commit some great crime or…
Lure in Batman. It was hard to keep that out if his mind, regardless of how many times he told himself to do so. The bat was just too much fun! He had realized at some point months ago that knowing his identity would be a great loss. That it would be the same as suddenly remembering every little detail of his life the way it was – or the way people say is "real" because to him a lot of the ways he remembers it are accurate – and becoming one of those normal citizens. But without knowing the face behind the mask… There was so much he could do to the great Dark Knight. Indirectly, of course, such as in the case of Mr. Harvey Dent and his girlfriend; one had completely abandoned his morals and given in to the chaos. The other brought chaos into men's hearts, all blown up to little pieces. Oh and what a wonderful sight it must have been. Batman had been so predictable at the time, he better have improved a bit until now.
And it brought him back to the harlequin… He kept reminding himself of how useful she would be in a future not so distant from now.
"Say, Harley…" She stopped examining the room and looked at him with those big blue eyes, frowning ever so slightly and muttering a 'yes?' of acknowledgment. "Did I ever tell you how I got these scars?"
