"This time it's perfect!" Joker exclaimed as he jumped back from his desk. "Yes. I've been going at it wrong all these years. I shouldn't kill the Bat, I should unmake him. I'll do to him what he did to me!"
"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Puddin'?" Harley asked as she walked into the room.
Joker spun round; his expression was wild, eyes bright with zeal. "The Batman, of course!"
"What's the plan?" Harley asked.
"To make him as mad as me!" Joker lost himself in a fit of laughter.
When he finally settled down, Harley prodded for more information. "How are you gonna do that?"
"Oh, it's perfectly genius!"
Poison Ivy held a small petri dish in her hands. She cooed quietly as she tended it and the golden agar began to soften with a thin white film. "That's a good job. You grow strong now. Grow strong and learn the steady patience of the earth. You've got a lot of waiting in your future, my darling. But it will be worth it, I promise." She placed the dish in an incubator and closed the door.
Shifting her attention, she walked over to the dining table where a satellite image of the botanical gardens was laid out. Red marker lines indicated guard routes, while black pencil expressed possible ingress avenues. An examination of power fluctuations seemed to support her original hypothesis that the vault was beneath the main science building. This made it both easier, and more difficult, to get to. Her familiarity with the layout of the lab building made it faster to get through the building but it also meant that there would be more interior guards because of whatever experiments and testing was being done in them. All hush hush and almost positively not all in any civic records. There had always been something going on on-the-sly when she had been there. Pamela sighed. A nostalgic sorrow was linked to those memories. She'd been invisible and ignored, put upon by her male compatriots; it was an utterly miserable time. And yet, some part of her still longed to return to it. Perhaps because it was simpler. Ivy shook her head in an effort to rattle loose the thoughts from her mind. Silly, childish talk that was, and nothing else. This had been the best thing that would ever happen in her life. She was now who she had always been meant to be, who she was destined to become. She was born Pamela Isley so that she could one day become Poison Ivy and right the wrongs humanity perpetrated against nature. Ivy returned her attention to the paper on the table, and the current misdeed in need of correction.
"That does sound good, boss." Marco offered affirmation.
"Are you sure it'll work?" Vinnie questioned.
Joker eyed him. "Am I sure it will work?"
Vinnie backpedaled. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just trying to make sure it was gonna work. No, of course it'll work, boss. But how are we gonna make sure we get Batman in just the right place?"
"You leave that to me. I'm the brains in this outfit; I'll make sure everything goes smoothly. All you have to do is do exactly as I say."
Harley offered her insight. "Is it still there? I thought the cops and the mayor had ordered it all be destroyed after…" She paused. "After, you know."
"Oh, it's all still there. Falcone made sure his investments didn't go to waste. The cops and the suits can say what they want, fly around the city telling everyone they run the joint. But they don't. Not really. They just give the illusion of security to all the little sheep going about their boring little lives." He made walking motions with his gloved hand, his voice mocking. "Going to work, spilling coffee on their brand new shirts, fighting the traffic on the way home." He mimed the actions with his fingers as best he could, swinging a finger in the air as if it were a fist and pretending to slam on the horn. "Finally, curling up in their warm beds after kissing the kiddies good night." Vinnie smiled and applauded Joker's hand puppet show. Joker sneered. "And they have no idea what really goes on in this city. They slapped some fancy new names on old buildings, moved tanks around here and there with shiny new labels on the tubs, but it's the same chemicals inside. Oh, it's all still there, if you know where to look. And I know where they hid it all. Right in plain sight." Joker's eyes went dark. His voice dropped, sinister in tone, and his smile gleamed as bright as his red lips could stretch. "And I'm gonna be the one to undo the Bat."
Jim Gordon stood on the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department. He pulled his trench coat tight against the chill night air as he leaned into the lever switch for the bat signal. The light kicked on and shone across the cloudy sky. Now all there was to do was wait. He exhaled heavily, testing the air for his breath. Not cold enough anymore. It was plenty warm enough during the day with summer around the corner, but the nights still belonged to the last grizzled fingers of winter, holding tight onto the cold. Nights in Gotham City always did belong to a different world. So here he sat, the Commissioner of police standing in the cold night air waiting for a man dressed as a bat to show up so he could pass on information about an insane clown. Maybe Gotham always belonged to a different world, night or day. He lit up a cigarette, the flame blazing against the dark.
"Those things'll kill you, you know?"
Gordon sighed. He didn't think he'd ever get used to that. Jim turned to face Batman. "That's what my doctors say too. Say they'll make my heart weak. Or my lungs. Any number of other things too." He took a quick drag. "Still doesn't make them any worse. But I'm down to a pack a week, at least."
"Well, that's something." Most people would have mocked him, downplayed such a small victory to be worthless. But Batman's tone was genuine, he recognized the difficulty of cutting back on an addiction, the strength it took to overcome vice. "So, is there something you wanted to tell me, or did you just want my suggestions for cigars?" Bruce smirked.
Gordon smiled wearily. "No, maybe next time. I heard some chatter these past few days. Seems Joker's got something planned at a warehouse tonight. Haven't heard much in the way of details, just a where and a when."
"Which one?"
"The Daggett Industries warehouse at wharf 18, 1 AM. It doesn't sound like a big job, but there's definitely something going on. That's all I know." Gordon took a long drag off his cigarette.
"Joker planning a heist at a pharmaceutical chemicals factory? That can't be good."
"Batman, it sounds like a trap. It was way too easy to get this info, like they wanted us to pick it up."
"I assume everything is." Bruce smiled.
Gordon made a gruff laugh. "I supposed you'd have to. Just, be careful out there tonight. Joker's the worst of the bunch. Harley was released from Arkham a few months ago, she'll probably be with him."
"Thanks, Jim. You should try to give up the smoking, for Barbara at least. Even grown kids still need their parents."
Jim sighed, looking out into Gotham in the direction of Barbara's apartment. "I'm working on it." Gordon looked back. Batman was gone. "I hate when he does that."
From atop a gargoyle of an old church, Bruce surveilled the Daggett Industries warehouse. There was no activity outside the building. Some lights were on inside, but he could see no movement. His infrared view showed only four bodies, but with the heat of the chemical vats it was possible that the FLIR simply couldn't pick up any more. "Jim was right, it doesn't look like a big job. And it's definitely trap."
Grappling across the skyline, Batman dropped silently onto the warehouse roof. He peaked in through a skylight to get a layout of the interior. A catwalk crisscrossed throughout the warehouse, precariously hanging above dozens of large chemical tanks. Half of the tanks were open, their contents churning and boiling, keeping the contents agitated. "What could Daggett Industries need tanks like these for?" Bruce called over his comm. "Alfred, make a note to have Gordon do an inspection of the Daggett Industries warehouse."
"Yes, sir. Is there anything in particular he should be looking for?"
"I want to know what they need millions of gallons of unlabeled chemicals for. Look into if Falcone has any ties to Daggett. Or Crane. I'll try to get some samples to analyze."
"On it, sir. And Mr. Wayne."
"Yes, Alfred?"
"Do be careful, sir."
Bruce smiled. "I will be, Alfred." He edged around the bank of skylights, searching for an opening. A window on the far side was open. A rusty ladder was bolted to the inside edge of the window frame, leading to the catwalk about fifteen feet below. Bruce slowly climbed down, making every effort to keep the metal from scraping and giving him away. The noise from the roiling chemicals drowned out any ambient sound, any whisper or creaking of the metal would be nearly impossible to hear, but it was always best to be cautious. Batman slipped along the catwalk. Inside, he had a better view; what appeared to be a single level catwalk was actually a network of three separate tiers of platforms in descending squares. The lowest level formed a grid that snaked back and forth over the rows of vats.
Batman made his way along the metal walkways, down to the lowest tier. He peered throughout the warehouse, straining to see details in the half-light. He growled to himself, it was too dark to see well, but too bright to use night vision. His surveillance had shown two bodies on the upper floor, but he'd found no trace of them. There appeared to be a room at the back of the building on the upper most level, most likely a foreman's office. It seemed the likeliest location for their refuge. In the center of the warehouse, placed directly under a light was a small jack-in-the-box. 'What are you up to, Joker?'
"Boss, he's here." Marco's voice crackled over the radio in Joker's hand.
"I hear him. Stay off the radio and get in position."
"Yes, sir, boss." Vinnie and Marco spread out to their designated spots in the warehouse.
Harley crept along the middle catwalk. Vinnie and Marco disappeared into the darkness below her while Joker stepped back into the shadows of the office far off to her right. 'Puddin's really got a good one this time. This is way better than killing Batman.'
They all waited, quiet and still. The minutes dragged on as Batman moved at a snail's pace along the catwalks. It felt as if Joker's plan was less likely to come to fruition the longer it took. Finally, Batman's silhouette crept close to the mark. Harley's muscles tensed, primed for action. Her eyes glued to the black shadow moving across the shaky metal. He was just a couple steps away from where they needed him to be.
Batman made his way along the catwalks toward the jack-in-the-box. It was obviously a setup, but he had to take the bait, at least for the time being. Bruce stopped a few steps away from it. A noxious smell wafted from the vat below it. He reached into his belt for a sample vial and a length of cable. The chemical in the tank had a familiarity to it, though he couldn't place it. This was clearly the chemical Joker was fixated on. 'Damn. The only cable I have tonight is in the grappler.' Bruce pulled the grappler from his side. He held it out toward the light so as not to risk dropping the spool of cable as he reached for the cable release switch on the back. Moving forward, he centered himself over the tank, he didn't want to miss the vat. He was directly in front of the idle jack-in-the-box.
"Get ready, boys." Joker spoke over the radio.
Harley watched as Batman stepped forward. Just one more step and he'd be in the perfect spot. He stopped and reached for something on his hip. He held up a device, pointed straight at Joker behind the office windows.
Batman took the final step forward. A cacophony of chaos and motion exploded all at once.
"NOW BOYS!" Joker screamed into the radio.
"MISTAH J, GET DOWN!" Harley swung down from her perch, aiming straight for Batman.
Marco and Vinnie pulled hard on the ropes they each held. A large battering ram with a giant grinning clown's face swung free from the roof, hurtling toward the catwalk.
Batman jumped backwards, steadying himself on the railing. Harley dropped down in the space he'd just vacated. "Don't you pull nothin', now. I ain't gonna—" The clown's face struck Harley square in the torso, plunging her over the edge. Bruce reached for her, but he was too late. The wire spool from his grappler clattered across the metal and down to the warehouse floor.
"NO! YOU BLEW IT! I HAD THE PERFECT PLAN AND YOU RUINED IT!" Joker screamed as Harley tumbled. He leapt through the window bay of the office, breaking through what glass was left in the aged frames. He landed on the catwalk at the opposite end from Batman. "I'll just have to do it myself then." He growled angrily as he ran toward the Dark Knight. His visage was animalistic; the white skin stained red in a dozen tiny glass cuts, spittle frothing at the end of his lips as he raced at full speed toward Batman, green hair wildly out of place.
Harley fell. A panic in her eyes just before her body broke the surface of the liquid in the tank. She sank to the bottom. The chemical burned, burned everything. Every inch of her body was on fire. Her body fought against her; it wanted to scream, wanted to throw open her mouth and screech in pain, gasping deep breaths of air. But she was still beneath the surface. She felt she was crying, but could feel no tears on her skin. She fought, swimming desperately for the surface, fighting for her life with every inch of her soul. Her face broke the surface and she gulped in air. One cool breath filled her lungs before she lost consciousness.
Joker sprinted down the narrow walkway. Batman bent his knees, ready for impact. Joker launched himself at Batman, snarling like a feral beast. Bruce grabbed his wrist and threw him onto the metal grating beneath their feet, splitting his lip. Joker jumped up, blood mixed with spit, a bright red froth spilled down his chin. He swung at Batman. Bruce blocked the punch and kicked him hard in the ribs. Joker doubled over and spat blood. "You won't get me so easily, Batman." Joker dropped low and slung his long legs at Batman's ankles. Bruce jumped, avoiding the impact. Joker growled. "If I can't break you, then I'll just kill you!" He reached behind, pulling a gun from the back of his pants. Batman spun, kicking the gun off into the darkness. Joker yelled, watching as the gun flew out of his hand. Bruce didn't relent, the second kick landed against Joker's jaw. A punch to the sternum. Bruce caught the man's arm, slamming his wrist against the railing. Joker clawed at him like a wild cat, hissing and snarling. Bruce pommeled Joker until he stopped fighting. Batman grabbed his limp body and tossed it over his shoulders.
Marco and Vinnie ran up on him, but both stopped when Batman turned to them. "You can go, on one condition." He pointed to Harley. "Take care of her." They nodded and left to work their way down to the floor. Bruce carried Joker's unconscious body out of the warehouse. Strapping him into the Batmobile, he called Alfred. "I've got Joker. Harley was injured."
"Did you get a sample of the chemicals, sir?"
"No. But I don't need to, I know what it was." Bruce was pensive, as usual.
"What was it then, sir?"
"The same chemical mixture that Joker fell into."
Alfred was quiet for a moment. "Sir, that was supposed to have been cleaned up and eliminated."
"Yes, it was. Joker didn't keep these tanks here, this was someone else's cover up. He just took advantage of it. Let Jim know, I've got something to take care of right now."
"Yes, sir."
Bruce went back into the warehouse. Marco was bent over the edge of the tank Harley had fallen into, using a gaff hook to fish her out. Hooking the remnant of her costume, he pulled her to the side of the tank. He handed the pole down to Vinnie. "I've got her, help me get her out." Vinnie clambered up the ladder behind Marco. Harley's small body felt like nothing to the large man as he tugged her over the edge. Vinnie grabbed her feet, pulling her legs down.
Batman waited until they had gotten to the ground. "I'll send a compound to the fun house tomorrow. Make sure she drinks it. If anything goes wrong, you go to GCPD and tell Gordon Harley needs my help."
"Gotham Police? No way." Marco protested.
"I'm not goin' in there for anybody." Vinnie argued.
Bruce's eyes narrowed. "If she needs help, you will tell Commissioner Gordon. No one will give you any trouble. But if I find out something went wrong and you didn't ask, I will find you."
The two men swallowed hard. "Understood."
"Get her home and cleaned up. She's going to need a lot of rest."
They both nodded. "Okay." Vinnie carried the small girl in his arms as they left out the back of the warehouse.
Batman returned to the Batmobile to transport Joker to Arkham. "I hope she's going to be okay."
Battered and bloodied, Joker was turned over to the staff of Arkham Asylum. They had long since stopped asking what had happened. They only asked which bones were broken. They set his jaw, stitched his lip, popped his wrist back into place, and bolted a rib back together. The staff swabbed iodine on his cuts and pulled a loose tooth before locking him in his cell. "Joker's back," was all that was passed between the night crew to the morning doctors.
The comment was met with a long-suffering sigh. "Harley?" A head shake to the contrary and another heavy sigh. "She'll come for him, then."
"Probably. You know what to do if she does."
"When she does."
There was a knock at the fun house door. Vinnie looked at Marco, hoping he would move to answer it. He didn't. Vinnie squared his shoulders and went to pull the door open. No one was there, which only made him more nervous. Then he saw a small black box on the doorstep. He picked it up and saw a white card attached to it, stamped with a bat symbol. He opened the box and found a small bottle of cloudy liquid. "It's for Harley."
"We better go wake her up and give it to her then. I don't want Batman coming for my ass."
Vinnie nodded. Honestly, he didn't care if Batman came for them or not. He knew what he'd done, knew what kind of man he was. His time would come, there was no getting away from that. But Harley was different, she was a good kid. She deserved better than she'd gotten, and he certainly wasn't going to let her become just as cracked as the Joker.
He pulled a chair against the bed. "Harley." He spoke softly. "Harley." She didn't wake. He frowned and put a hand on her bleached shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. "Harley, wake up. I've got something for you."
She roused slowly. "Mistah J."
"No, Harley. It's me, Vinnie. I've got something for you, you gotta drink it." He looked at the bottle in his hand. "It probably ain't gonna taste real good."
"Then why do I gotta drink it?" She was still woozy from sleep. And maybe the chemicals.
"Cuz you gotta." He paused. "Boss says so."
Harley pushed herself up in bed. She reached for the bottle and saw the white of her arm. "Why didn't anybody wash off my makeup?"
The men were quiet for a moment, looking at the floor, each other, the wall above Harley's head, anywhere but at the poor girl's blue eyes. Marco finally spoke up. "It's not makeup, Harley."
She stared at her snow white arms. Slowly, she remembered. The warehouse, the battering ram, Batman, the chemicals, the burning, and then…black. "Is my hair green?"
"No. Still blonde." Vinnie answered.
"Batman got him, didn't he?" Marco nodded. Harley took in a slow deep breath. "Did he get angry, try to make Batman pay?"
"Oh yeah. He got real mad, tried to get Batman real good. Got real close, almost kicked his ass." Vinnie told only what Harley needed to hear.
"Alright. So we bust him out."
"Harley, wait." Vinnie held out the bottle. "You gotta drink this."
"It's from Batman isn't it?"
Vinnie nodded. "He said it would help."
"Okay." Harley took the bottle and drank its contents in a single gulp. She made a face as the foul taste hit her tongue and slid down the back of her throat. "Gross."
Marco and Vinnie looked at each other, feeling an uncomfortable weight in the room. "We'll, uh, let you have some time alone now." Vinnie said, turning his attention back to Harley.
"Yeah. We'll be right out there if you need anything. Just let us know, okay?"
Harley nodded, some time to think would be good. The two men left her alone. She sighed heavily, feeling a strange weight that so much had changed, and yet nothing at all. Batman had put Joker back in Arkham, so she'd have to break him out again. The guys would help, and maybe she'd have to pull in a few extra hands. Her pale white skin seemed to gleam in the light, it was so bright. Her mind played over the fall. Memory flooding back in a sudden wave. She closed her eyes and felt her body sink into the liquid. It was thick, gooey, like swimming in corn syrup. The pain rushed over her. Every pore burning with a fire incomprehensible. A whimper escaped her throat as she cringed. She remembered air, and then nothing else. She opened her eyes; the stark whiteness of her skin was still a shock. "That's gonna take some getting used to." She slumped back against the wall. "So, this is how it is now. No use sitting around. My Puddin' got dunked too, and he came out alright." She shrugged, putting aside any other thoughts on the matter. Instead, she focused on what she felt to be a more pressing matter.
Harley burst into the living room. "Okay, so here's how I'm thinking we can get Mistah J out."