A/N: Harley is really beginning to lose it. Heh. I think this chapter demonstrates it further. I don't own these characters, DC Comics does.

Chapter 10: The Sharpest Lives are the Deadliest to Lead

Give me a shot to remember

And you can take all the pain away from me

A kiss and I will surrender

The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead

A light to burn all the empires

So bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be

In love with all of these vampires

So you can leave like the sane abandoned me

"The Sharpest Lives", My Chemical Romance

"How do I look?" I twirled about in a model-like fashion, waiting for his reaction.

We were in his private apartment, separated from the warehouse; it was a small building attached to the top. I had to take an elevator that was hidden near the back of the warehouse; none of his accomplices knew about it. He kept it secret to everyone but me, considering I basically lived there, too.

I had made the red and black fabric into a form-fitting jumpsuit, complete with a detachable hood that was shaped to be like a jester's hat. I didn't add any bells or adornments, because, well…that might be taking the analogy a little too far.

"You look fantastic." He nodded in approval, "How will any of the people be able to keep their eyes off you?"

"That could be used to our advantage." I pointed out.

He grinned crookedly, "Is it really you in there? The person I met a few weeks ago wouldn't be caught dead saying these things."

I removed the hood, raking my hands through my hair in front of the mirror, "I guess you could say that I had to change to fit my circumstances."

"Fair enough," he shrugged. He kissed my forehead, "We need to get moving."

I furrowed my brow, "Where? What are we doing?"

"You'll see when we get there." He replied nonchalantly.

He started the leave the room, heading toward the elevator. I followed like a puppy at his heels, "Um, hey! I don't like the sound of this at all. Why won't you tell me?"

"Because you're not going to approve." He stepped into the elevator, pulling me inside with him.

"Well, that clears things up nicely." I smoothed my costume, trying to rid it of any wrinkles, "Want to elaborate on that, genius?"

He just gave me a look and said, "No, not particularly."

"Is what we're doing illegal?"

"Like that is really going to bother you now." He snorted, stepping out of the elevator as the doors opened to reveal the darkness of the room where it was located, "Huh. I really need to invest in some lighting in here."

"That's not the point." I protested, exasperated at his lack of attention, "Is it illegal or not?"

"Nothing I do is ever legal, Harley." He strode through the main floor of the warehouse, me behind him, struggling to catch up with his long strides.



"Well, you can't just expect me to obey your every command without knowing some details first!"

"You're doing it right now." he snapped his fingers for one of his henchmen, who appeared quickly by his side, "Go get the car."

(He at least had taken care of my Ferrari.)

The henchman nodded, and exited as soon as he had come.

"You're completely avoiding the question!" I exclaimed as the man pulled the car around the front of the building. The Joker got into the driver's seat, and I halted, "Oh no, no, no. You will not be driving my car."

"Yes, yes, I will. Get in." he patted the seat next to him.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I will get in, but I am definitely not going to like it."

I was quite protective of that car; no one else had ever driven it but me, so it felt very odd to be sitting in the passenger's seat. I didn't exactly trust his driving skills, either.

We started to drive, and I peered out the window for a familiar sight, but none occurred, "Where the hell are we going?"

"I told you. You will see." He said calmly.

"I don't like being left out of information." I folded my arms across my chest, sulking like a child.

He glanced over at me, "Don't give me that pout, missy. You've done nothing but complain since I brought you here." He imitated me in an obscenely high, girlish voice, "What? I can't have my own bed? Where am I going to take a shower? I have to wear that?"

"Shut up," I had to giggle a little at that, "I seriously do not sound like that."

"That's what you think."

"Oh, fuck you." I muttered.

"You wish." He retorted.

"Yeah, right, ok." I let out a short bark of laughter.

"Oh, you know you want me. You're just in a state of denial because you're stuck in a place where you don't want to go." He stared out the front window, face dead-pan.

I didn't want to admit to the truth, so I avoided the subject, "I'll give you this, Joker; you could make one hell of a psychologist."

"Nah, I can just read people easily." He smiled, "I'm naturally inclined to it. I have had a lot of life experience to back it up."

I shrugged, "Well, whatever you attribute to it, you're very good at it."

"Then you are saying that my diagnosis is correct?"



"No," I said obstinately.

"Fine, suit yourself." He had one of those pensive looks on his face, and I knew he didn't believe me in the slightest. He looked around the area in which we were driving, and said, "Alright, so here's the deal. All the mob bosses are out of jail, and they're basically screaming for the Batman's blood. That's where I come in."

"Alright…so…where does that leave me?" I was puzzled.

"Men love two things, Harley: women and money. I thought I might as well give them both to sweeten the deal." He said simply.

"Oh, so I'm just a piece of ass?" I snapped.

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes."

At least he didn't bother to sugar-coat anything.

"Great, fantastic," I grumbled.

"Now, no making your little snide comments during this meeting. I need to come off as a credible villain, got it?"

"What snide comments?"

"No offense, but you come off as a sarcastic bitch at times."

"None taken," I rolled my eyes, "I will do my best not to make you look like a fuck-head."

"Um…" he pulled into an abandoned lot off the side of the road, "I'm not sure that is a specific promise."

"That's the point. I said I would do my best, but I'm not guaranteeing that my best is the best I can do, hmm?" I clearly enjoyed the mind games I played with him.

"Whatever, please don't just be a sarcastic bitch." He said dismissively, pressing the automatic locks on the car with a resounding 'beep' across the empty lot.

I trailed him, as usual, and we went inside this seemingly useless building on the 'bad side' of Gotham City. Although, now that I mention it, there really wasn't a 'good side.'

We came to a conference room in the basement of the building, and I peered inside the small windows on the steel doors.

"Tell me what you see." He instructed.

"I see a bunch of greasy men with bad hair and cheap suits." I observed.

"Yeah, that's the mob."

"These guys don't look like the Godfather type." I ducked as one glanced toward me.

"They normally don't." he said, "Welcome to the real world."

"Oh shut up, I'm just trying to make a joke." I hissed.

"Just let me do all the talking, alright?" he said in a low voice, "You'll fuck it up."



"Thanks for the confidence."

"There you go again with the attitude."

"God damn it, are we going in there or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm getting to it." He kicked the door open, strutting inside as if he owned the place, "Evening, gentlemen."

"Aw, not you again," one of the men groaned.

"Who invited the clown back?"

"All he brought us was trouble!"

"Where's the dead Batman, Joker?"

Their angry voices all meshed together, arguing while the Joker stood there, completely calm during the whole tirade.

"Alright, now that we've got those sentiments off our chests, I'd like propose another plan to you fine individuals." He stood at the front of the table, and gestured for me to come in.

A few of the men whistled and cat-called, and I glared at them. I noticed his hands grow tense, his knuckles white in silent fury, but he moved on, "Ok, get it out, get it out. This is my lovely assistant, Harley Quinn."

"Oh, so you've got yourself a girlfriend, then, clown?" one of the Italians jeered.

"Not exactly." I replied.

"Opinions to yourself, Harley." He whispered harshly.

I stood there, arms crossed, and listened to him make his speech, "So, my first plan didn't work. I can admit to my mistakes, but apparently, you can't. I've had a lot of time to think, and I've come up with something bigger and better."

I stared at him, thinking, 'Oh really?'

He chose to ignore my dubious gaze, focused on the mobsters, "I wasn't trying before. Now I've hit him where it hurts. I can break him down. I can crack into his brain, demoralize him."

"How are you going to do that?" a man asked.

"That's up to me." He said vaguely.

"I don't like that you're not telling us anything." one of them stood up, "Most importantly, what do you want in return?"

"Well, how much you got?"

"50 million dollars," the man replied.

"I'll take 10 of that." He decided.

"Ten?!" a few almost gasped.

"I could ask for more." The Joker shrugged.



"Fine, clown, we'll give ten million for Batman dead. Not alive, dead. We gave you one chance already, and this is the last you're gonna get." The man who was speaking seemed like the leader of one of the gangs; he was rather tall and intimidating, olive-skinned and looked a little less slimy than the rest.

"Understandably so," he put his hands up in defense, "You men are my customers. At least you're a little more obliging than the first ones I had to deal with."

"I still don't trust you, but we have no other choice right now." The leader said, "The name is Ristoni, if you ever need anything."

"Wait, wait," another guy interrupted, "We are really just going to let this guy walk away with a fifth of our hard-earned cash?"

"I could hardly call your money hard-earned." I said under my breath.

He glared at me, "What are you mumbling about, bitch?"

"There's no need to talk to the lady like that." Ristoni said sharply, "Sit down, Martin, you're making yourself look like an ass."

Martin obliged reluctantly.

The Joker stepped around me, and over to Martin, "You ever speak to her like that again, I will blow your god damn head off, got it? I have people everywhere; nowhere is safe for you."

Martin's hand went to his pocket, and pulled out his pistol, "Are you threatening me?"

"I'm not offering you flowers and candy."

Martin put a gun to the Joker's head, and suddenly a shot rang out from across the room.

Martin dropped to the floor, a bullet lodged in his frontal lobe, bleeding profusely out of the back of his head.

Everyone looked around to see the origin of the shot, and then suddenly I realized…

It had been me.