Slab warden Warren Zimmer furiously stubbed his cigarette out into the ashtray.
"Tell me again," he snarled fiercely, "Exactly how did this happen?"
He was staring down the six guards standing in front of him. Behind him, Milton James, a tiny pipsqueak of man, with big glasses and a brown suit nearly two sizes too big, spoke up.
"Well, sir, the deputy warden okayed a conjugal visit to the Joker and …"
"I know that!!!" Zimmer interrupted, screaming. "What I want to know is HOW that happened??"
It was 5 a.m. on Tuesday. Zimmer had flown in to New York on the red-eye overnight, after getting a phone call during his two-week long Hawaiian vacation with his new wife, Bianca. The news hit hard: Five guards dead, one in a coma, the deputy warden missing, the Joker escaped and a frenetic media already stirred up.
It was not how he wanted to return to his office.
"Sir, we're still working on it, but it seems deputy warden Andrew Thomson might have been blackmailed…" James piped up.
As James continued speaking, Zimmer walked to his desk and pulled out a bottle of unopened whiskey from the third drawer. He hadn't touched the stuff since he was given it as a gift from a state senator five years back.
He opened the bottle, tipped his head back and swilled down the liquor.
"Slow down," Zimmer interrupted the administrative assistant. "Thomson was blackmailed?"
It turns out, Zimmer learned from James, the deputy warden was gunning for a senator position of his own.
But Thomson had some indiscretions James guessed a certain clown prince was threatening to go to the press about.
The indiscretions, James summarized, had to do with Thomson's womanizing. More over, Thomson's secret rendezvous with a string of call girls, a la former N.Y. governor Eliot Spitzer.
And since 9 a.m. Monday morning, Thomson was missing.
Zimmer paced furiously.
The six guards sheepishly looked at the floor, out the windows – anywhere but at their boss.
Zimmer had only been on his vacation for a mere two days when he got the call. He'd promised Bianca the trip as a honeymoon, but when the Joker was transferred to the Slab, the honeymoon was put on the backburner. For four months.
They'd just gotten back from the pool when the phone rang. He knew, he just knew in his gut, something was up.
By the time he slammed the phone down, Bianca had already packed his bags and was looking up the phone number online to call for an immediate flight back to the Slab.
The rules around the Joker were simple.
At mealtimes, he wasn't allowed a plastic fork, knife or spork for that matter.
He was not allowed conjugal visits, despite the fact he didn't ask for them.
He was not allowed visitors, although Zimmer had a soft spot for Commissioner Gordon and the Batman and was happy to oblige their requests on the QT, especially if it meant torturing the sick sonofabitch.
The clown's mail, both ingoing and outgoing, was thoroughly checked. Anything suspicious (which was pretty much everything) was sent over to the Gotham Police, the F.B.I and the Department of Homeland Security.
And not that they were certain the clown really knew how to, he was certainly not allowed to go online or use a computer in anyway.
"From what we gather, the Joker had a.. Ahem… conjugal visit," James said.
"How could Thomson let this happen???" Zimmer asked, burying his face in his hands.
A knock came at the door. One of the secretaries poked her head in.
"Sir? Gotham Times is on the phone – they're quite persistent," she said. "And the police's Ident unit should be arriving in 10 minutes."
"Shit. Arrange a press conference for 1 p.m.," the warden replied. "Go on," he pointed at James.
While the rules around the Joker were simple, humanity wasn't so simple. Naïve young guards on the low-end of the pay scale with mouths to feed at home were more inclined to take bribes. And so were higher-ups hoping to avoid a career-ruining scandal, obviously.
James figured Thomson had been contacted by one of the Joker's thugs six weeks ago. The request came in that the Clown Prince wants a conjugal visit.
Thomson, not being entirely an idiot, wanted fingerprints, name and background check of the dame the Joker wanted to spend a half-hour of fun with.
Mary Flynn checked out OK. She didn't even have a parking ticket to her name and complied with a fingerprint and police background check. The girl had even submitted a 10,000 word essay for Pete's sake and her high school record from St. Peter's Catholic School.
James showed Zimmer all of Mary Flynn's information. On top of her essay was a photo of a brunette with a big smile on her face.
"Give this to the cops. I want to know who this girl is and why she wanted to meet with the Joker," Zimmer said.
When his assistant notified him the cops were in the building, the warden sent the six guards in his office out to help the police in any way they could.
Flynn, James said, had most likely dealt only with Thomson so she probably hadn't stepped foot on the prison premises until Monday afternoon. James said the deputy warden gave the guards direction, put himself in charge and apparently decided to skip work Monday.
"Perhaps he knew his career was over," Zimmer muttered sitting down in his desk chair, rubbing his temples. "Continue."
According to the guards, Flynn even happily obliged to a strip search.
"They said she wasn't wearing, ahem, much under her little trench coat. Just shoes and a trench coat that barely hit her thighs," James said.
"She a prostitute?" Zimmer asked.
"We're still looking into that. Honestly, sir, I was only following Thomson's directions and this all seemed very strange to me. A conjugal visit just isn't in his m.o."
Zimmer nodded.
The guards had escorted Mary to a large cell in the middle of an even larger room. Thomson, again not being a total doofus, seemed to think this was the best way to avoid the girl from possibly becoming another one of the clown's victims.
Cueing up the video of the guards leading Mary to the cell and the cell, James apologized to his boss.
"Why are you saying you're sorry?" Zimmer asked.
"I've already watched it," James replied.
***
On the video, the guards leading Mary were heard saying things like, "Can't believe even he gets horny," and "This girl must be a freak!" and "I'm gonna need a barf bag since we gotta stick around to listen to this."
She could be heard quietly singing: "Let's talk about Sex," until the guards angrily yelled at her to stop.
One guard hollered at Mary to spit out her bubblegum. But he made the mistake of holding out his palm as he instructed her to where the garbage can was, and she spit it out into his open hand.
"What the heck is the matta with you, girl?" the guard said.
Her reply was a big smile.
The guard chuckled.
"If you weren't so cute, I'd cut your time down by five minutes to 25. Now follow us."
Joker was handcuffed and shackled at the legs. He was sitting on the cot as the guards had ordered when they opened up the cell door for Mary to enter.
Another four guards were already standing at the cell, Billy clubs in hands, looking ready for anything that was about to go down. Anything but what might just transpire.
As Zimmer watched the tape, he looked curiously at the girl, trying to place her face.
It was hard to see, as she appeared to be avoiding looking directly at the cameras, although the obnoxious clown was smiling and waving into them.
She dropped her trench coat and it was true, Zimmer noted: the only other thing she was wearing were her heels.
The guards stood in a straight line, Billy clubs at the ready, facing into the cell, but not directly looking at the clown or this strange girl.
Zimmer reached for his whiskey bottle again as the girl dropped to her knees in front of the clown.
A secretary again knocked on the door, startling both the warden and the administrator.
"Sir? Commissioner Gordon and umm.. uhhh…Someone else is here with him..."
The warden nodded, advising her to send them in and waved her away.
Gordon entered Zimmer's office, followed by the masked vigilante, the Batman.
Zimmer, who'd always felt Gordon wasn't given enough credit and had a childlike admiration of the Dark Knight, greeted them warmly.
"I've already had my sources check up on this Mary Flynn," the Dark Knight said. "She's from Bludhaven. One of my colleagues is already on his way to check out her apartment."
"I'm just watching the video from yesterday. I only just got in early this morning, on the red eye. I – I –I thought I was leaving this place in capable hands," Zimmer turned away from the two men.
No one spoke for several minutes. Zimmer clutched his whiskey bottle.
James piped up.
"Sirs? Perhaps we should finish watching the video?"
Gordon put his head in his hands. "Anymore of that whiskey, Zimmer?"
The clown was now between the girl's legs and swiveled her around so she wasn't facing the camera, but he was.
He looked right up at the camera and winked. He appeared to be pulling something out of her with his teeth, like a magician pulling out a never-ending scarf out of his assistant's sleeve.
"Is that… what is that?" James asked, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. "I didn't notice that before. Is that … a ribbon??"
"How were guards killed?" Gordon asked.
"Three were killed by strangulation. The guard who was left in a coma appears to have been beaten with something blunt, quite possibly a shoe. Another two were found outside, one with wound to the skull and the last strangled, as well," James said.
"How much do you think he paid this woman?" the warden asked.
"Whatever it was, it's not worth her life," Gordon said.
The Batman spoke up. "This is definitely not THE Mary Flynn. Although we can't yet be sure until Nightwing checks in, I think I know who this is already. First of all, this so-called 'Flynn' isn't even looking at the camera. She's hiding. And he's also partially hiding certain parts of her. I don't think it's being done in a protective way as much as almost possessive manner.
Secondly, no sane woman would get this intimate with a psychopathic and grotesque madman who would just as likely kill them as charm them."
Gordon scowled.
The girl wasn't saying much at all as she straddled the clown. As she moved up and down on him, he started speaking, just loud enough for the guards to hear. He was not looking at her, nor at the camera, but at the guards.
The guards at first looked confused, then appeared both angry and shocked.
"Oh my God – is he .. he's talking about how he's going to kill us!" one guard sputtered.
The girl appeared to shake and put her hand over her mouth and abruptly stopped riding the clown, sliding off him.
"That's enough! Time's up, funny boy! Back to your cage, animal!" a second guard rattled the bars of the cell with a Billy club.
The girl grabbed her trench coat and pulled it on, quickly, as the guards opened the cell door. Two guards hauled her out of the cell, grabbing her by the arms.
"Don't be a stranger, darling!" Joker called out to her as four guards advanced on him.
He looked directly into the camera, holding up a foot-long length of red ribbon. He was clearly no longer handcuffed.
"Hey Batsy," he shouted. "I know you're watching. That was just the warm-up session. You're just gonna love the climax!"
He grabbed his shoe and started menacingly towards the guards.
Batman emitted a low growl.
"Turn it off. I've seen enough."
A voice could suddenly be heard in the room, as if on speakerphone. James and Zimmer looked around for the origin of the voice, only to realize it was coming from somewhere in Batman's suit.
"Batman, it's Nightwing. I'm at Mary Flynn's apartment. That was not Mary Flynn! Her body is here. It looks like she was killed at least a day ago.
There's a note here – it says: "Roses are red, violets are blue … I bet Miss Flynn's starting to smell like guano --- just like you!… Kisses and hugs B-Man, Harley."
The warden cursed a blue streak. Gordon took off his glasses, muttered something about "that kooky jester girl" and rubbed his nose. James looked down for a brief second and by the time he looked back up, the Batman was gone.
*****
Several hours earlier.
Two young guards hastily led the petite brunette out of the room where the Joker's cell was.
"Miss, I don't know how much he paid you to do that, to scare us and humiliate us all like that, but let me tell you it ain't worth it," one guard with the nametag Kerrick said.
They grabbed her roughly by the arms as they headed outside and into a van.
"Oh, he didn't pay me nothin' at all!" she looked at them with a smile.
Both guards looked at her inquisitively. The guard named Kerrick opened the van door and the girl, smiling brightly at them, slid into the backseat.
The second guard got into the driver's seat and started the ignition as Kerrick slammed the van door shut and hopped into the passenger seat.
"Gee boys," the woman said. "I wish we didn't have to leave so soon. I hardly had any time to get to say good-bye to my Puddin'."
"Your wha ---???" Kerrick said as he looked at the other guard and both turned to the girl, who was pulling a brown wig off her head.
"You're… you're… you're…" Kerrick stammered in realization.
The second guard instinctively went for his Billy club.
"That's right, fellas!" she chirped. "Harley Quinn!"
Before the guard in the driver's seat could reach his club, Harley pulled some red ribbon taut around his neck, holding it tight from behind his seat.
Kerrick, panicking, stared as she smiled a nasty grin at him. His fellow guard was already gasping for breath, his fingers flailing at the string.
"Sorry buck-o, but Mistah J's gonna be here real soon, and I don't think he'll want any extra riders!"
She turned on him before he had time to even utter a protest for his and his fellow co-worker's lives.
She grabbed her high heel and slammed the stiletto into Kerrick's eye as the driver's seat to the van door opened.
"Nice one, Harl!"
The Joker grabbed the very recently deceased guard in the driver's seat by the shirt collar. "Sorry pal, I'd invite you to stay, but you seem kinda stiff. So move over, I'm drivin'! Toodles!""
As he heaved the man out of the van he made sure to grab the club and Taser from the guard's belt.
She beamed at him as she shoved Kerrick's body out of the van and slipped into the passenger seat.
"Buckle up!" he hollered, slamming his foot on the gas, peeling the van out of the parking lot towards the prison gates. He started laughing.
"This wasn't a bad gag, Harl. Remind me to send a copy of the video to Bats. And Gordon. Put Nightynight on that list, too. Although I bet they watched it already! Ha ha!! And get me a copy of the video of them watching it! Oh, they must've squirmed in their pants – looking for clues when there wasn't anything! He probably watched the whole damn thing! And to think of how it must've messed with his head! Oh thinking about it makes my sides ache. Batsy, you never could take a joke, could you? The grim and stalwart Knight --- watching dirty movies! I slay myself, really!
Ahhh, that was fun. Hahahaha!"
Harley smiled proudly. "I wonder if I can get copies on DVD…"
"And how'd you get that ribbon to, err, stay put?" He asked, eyeballing her.
"Aww, gee, Puddin', I'm a lady! And a girl's gotta keep some secrets, ya know!"
He snickered.
"When you started talkin' about how you were gonna off those guards, I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing too loud --- Mistah J that was killer stuff!" She sighed adoringly.
"Hahaha! You're tellin' me, pumpkin pie. I gotta admit Harl – the heels and short trench were pretty saucy."
"Oh, it's too bad about those Jimmy Choos," she sighed. "Those were my new shoes! Well, Mary Flynn's new shoes."
"And oy, that Mary Flynn! She was a handful. She was girls-gone-wild, if ya know what I mean. Who knew telling her I was keen would make her so grabby?"
"Tell me about it," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
"All I had to do is flirt with her a bit and she didn't mind givin' up her fingerprints, photo – it was nothin'! But I gave her kittens lots of food after I poisoned her. I mean, I heard somewhere them cats get so hungry, they'll eat their owner's face off!" Harley shuddered.
"And really, that's just a Killer Croc way to go," he replied, nodding in her direction.
"Ha, ha! Well it don't matter now, cause you're gonna go after B-man and his ass'll be grass! Yippee!"
"Harl," he said menacingly, turning to her, one hand gripping the steering wheel. His other moved up towards his neck, using one finger to make a threatening, slicing gesture across his throat. "Zip it."
A/N: I'm sorry to do that to you B-man. That's truly torture, but it was funny all the same.
And I got the idea for Harley's "magic trick" after seeing it done live in Amsterdam. Work it, Harls!
Reviews, feedback, concrit, etc. make me a happy cat!