A/N: And here is the next chapter.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Enjoy!
The following morning, I woke up to an empty fortress. The Joker had left a note on the end table next to the purple recliner. "Jean," it said.
I'm out on "business". Haha. Business. Anyway, I'll be back sometime today, if everything goes well. See you when I get back. —J
I sighed. "Way to keep your sister informed, Jack," I muttered, as if my brother could hear me. I sat down on the green recliner and turned on the TV, immediately flipping to GCN.
"Once again, the Joker has been taken into custody," said the reporter. My mouth fell open. "He is currently being held at Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. He has not dropped any hints as to if he will attempt another breakout. But for now, we hope he will be kept under control. This has been Jack Ryder with the morning news."
I turned the television off. "No," I whispered. My brother, my Jackie, had been arrested. He was at Arkham. "No!"
I was alone. Completely and utterly alone.
One month later, I woke up and checked the news, as I did every day. This time, though, something good had happened.
"The Joker has escaped from Arkham," Jack Ryder said. My heart soared in my chest. Yes! "He has also taken Dr. Harleen Quinzel, possibly to hold for ransom. If anyone knows anything about where they are, please contact the pol—"
I shut the TV off.
I giggled, which built to a laugh, which became a cackle. I rocked back and forth in my glee. Tears came to my eyes. I hooted, trying to catch my breath.
I jumped up and began to dance, pirouetting and leaping. I felt so good, I…I wanted to steal. Something big. I wanted to hear about myself in the news. A rising criminal, the Jester, has robbed…
Hmm. What to rob? How about…
I had nothing.
But I was thinking too much. I couldn't think; I couldn't plan things out. I just had to do things. Don't think, just do.
I rushed out the door. Where to now?
When I got back, I put the huge sack of money on the couch and turned on the television, flipping it to GCN. Jack Ryder wasn't on now—it was some old guy.
"In other news," he said. "Gotham City Bank was robbed at nine-thirty this morning. There was virtually no evidence of the robbery other than the fact that half of the money in the vaults went missing. Also, written in red graffiti art on the west wall were the words 'The Jester'. We have with us Mr. Larry Nicholson with an account of the thief." The camera turned to a younger man sitting on a couch in the newsroom.
"Thank you," said Mr. Nicholson. "Now, what I saw…I couldn't believe it. It was like the Joker all over again. She was wearing a green-and-purple suit and clown makeup, and she had purple hair. She told us to get down and that if any of us tried to get away, she would find us and kill us. She was carrying a sword of some kind. Next thing we knew, she was coming up from the vaults with a huge bag filled with our money. Then she wrote 'The Jester' on the wall and left."
"Thank you, Mr. Nicholson," said the old man. He turned back to the camera. "It would seem that we have a new criminal to worry about, now that the Joker has been locked up. We'll be live at five with video of this morning's robbery."
I turned the television off and started laughing in my satisfaction. I'd done something right! Now the fight for equal rights would begin!
I heard the door burst open. I turned to see my brother. "Jackie!" I squealed. I ran to him, wrapping my arms around him. "You're okay!" I pulled back to look at him. "Did you hear about me? I robbed Gotham City Bank and got away!"
He grinned at me. "You did good, Jean. I'm proud of you."
I beamed. He's proud of me! Then I noticed his company. "Who's this, Jack?"
The woman was pretty and tall, about nine inches taller than me. She had golden hair tied back into a neat bun and blue eyes behind black-rimmed glasses. Even though I was wearing clown makeup, she still made me feel ugly.
Did that make sense?
"I'm Harley," she said.
My brother turned to grin at her. "Harley," he drawled, as if he were savoring the sound of the name, "used to be Dr. Harleen Quinzel." He chuckled and I pondered him.
Well, it was a funny name. Harleen Quinzel, I thought. Rework it a bit and you get Harlequin. Just like the clown character in Commedia Dell' Arte. I laughed, too.
"She was supposed to, uh, work on me at Arkham," he went on. "But instead, I worked on her. She understands us, Jean. So, she decided to come with me." He nodded his head, effectively preventing any of my questions. I sensed there was more to Harley than met the eye when it came to the Joker.
Harley smiled at me. "You must be the Jester," she said. "The reporters are raving about you on every local news channel."
"Already?" I was stunned. "That was fast."
Harley laughed. She turned to Jack. "I'm going to make myself at home, J," she said, and headed to his bedroom. Apparently, he'd already told her where it was.
"Okay," said the Joker. "You do that." He watched her go.
I wheeled to face him. "Something's going on here," I accused, wrinkling my nose. A burst of pain hit my head. "Wait a minute."
Red and black, black and red, red and black…fabric. And Harley was wearing it. She resembled a sort of demented court jester.
The Joker smiled at her. "Ah, there's my Harley Quinn."
I giggled. "Ha, ha. Harley Quinn. Harlequin." I paused. "Wait—Harley Quinn?" I tapped my foot impatiently. "You've got some 'splainin' to do."
Tell me what you think!
