Title: Life Don't Have to be No Bed of Roses (4/??)
Author: Allaine
Email: eac2nd@yahoo.com
Distribution: Probably at fanfiction.net and the factsofslash group. Anyone interested should just ask, and can expect a positive answer.
Spoilers: Takes place after the New Batman/Superman Adventures, with one alteration - in my story, Ivy's skin never turned white like the Joker's. So she still looks like you and me.
Feedback: Reader response was really great the last time. I hope to see as much the second time around.
Rating: R (graphic violence, angst)
Disclaimers: All characters belong to . . . let's see, DC Comics, Kids WB and the Cartoon Network, the producers of the two Batman serials, the talented artists and voice actors, etc. I have borrowed them entirely without permission, for which I humbly beg forgiveness, but I seek no form of profit from this undertaking.
Summary: The Joker was bound to interfere in Harley and Ivy's relationship. Will it survive? Will they? Sequel to "It's Just Allergies".
_______________________________________________________
Chapter 4
"How are the babies? I mean, her pets?" These were the first words out of Ivy's mouth when she and Detective Montoya encountered Commissioner Gordon just inside the entrance to the emergency room. Twenty-four hours ago she would never have felt such a level of concern for a couple of animals who she associated more with the Joker than Harley. Now, however, she recognized that the "babies" evidently preferred Harley over their master, and after they'd saved her from the Joker's wrath, she could be more considerate. Plus, it wouldn't help Harley's recovery if she learned her former "puddin" had killed one of them.
"If she recovers," came the whispered reply in the back of her head. If she could have, she would have savagely choked the life out of the speaker.
"They're fine," Gordon replied gruffly, no doubt more worried about future human casualties. "One has a limp now, but that's all. I'm surprised you're not more interested in your friend's condition."
Montoya chuckled. "In spite of your request that she come see you as soon as possible, first she dragged me down to the ICU to check on her."
Ivy thought that, after the nightmare she'd had, she could be forgiven for being additionally fearful for Harley's life.
"Hm," he said, wrinkling his mustache.
"So, where's Beefsteak?" she asked, noticing Bullock wasn't around.
"_Detective Bullock_ is still searching for the Joker, as well as running operations at the crime scene," Gordon said testily.
Ivy only smiled innocently and said nothing.
"As long as he's out there, both of your lives are in danger," he added.
"As I recall, Harley's life is still in danger whether the Joker comes after her or not," Ivy shot back.
"Her doctor says they'll move her to a private room as soon as they upgrade her status," Gordon said. "We'll be able to guard her better there."
Ivy snorted. "What makes you think he'll come for her here, when he can just wait for her to be released into Arkham's custody? He'll probably have himself committed when that happens."
"The Joker isn't a rational person."
"The Joker likes to torture people before he kills them. He won't have that luxury in a hospital filled with police officers."
Gordon glared at her. "You don't really care what the Joker does while he's out, just as long as he gets what you think is coming to him."
"He could leave a swath of destruction through this hospital," she said coldly, "as long as he fell into my hands before getting to Harley's room."
"Keep talking like that," he warned her, "and I'll have your visitation rights revoked. You can't protect your girlfriend if I decide not to let you."
A red haze dropped over her vision. No one threatened her, least of all a two-bit civil appointee who depended on a flying bat to keep crime rates below "anarchy". She didn't need a special plant to bring this man to the floor and throttle him with his own tie.
But if they wanted to keep her away from Harley, eventually they could.
Slowly she got herself settled down. Lately she'd been able to keep her homicidal instincts in check by honestly examining how it would affect Harley's best interests. So far it appeared to have paid off.
Ivy only hoped she could keep it up the next time it counted.
"Fine," she grumbled. "You're the boss." She tasted something vile in her mouth.
"Well then," Gordon decided, while Montoya watched Ivy intently, prepared to take her into custody if the need arose. "We put a round-the-clock guard on Harley until she's released. After that, she's your responsibility."
"Which is another reason why we're getting the fuck out of this town," she replied. "Joker can rot in Gotham for all I care. He will never go near my Harley again."
Renee started. "_Your_ Harley?"
"Someone informed me that Harley and Ivy," Gordon explained dryly, "have reached a new understanding in their relationship."
"Oh?"
"Harley's traded up," Ivy added.
Montoya finally understood. "Really," she murmured, more intrigued than surprised. "Harley Quinn leaves Joker for Poison Ivy. When the press gets a hold of this, they're going to have a field day - the ultimate romantic triangle."
"It's not romantic when one of the three is a homicidal lunatic stalker," Ivy muttered.
Then it hit her.
"The press is just going to eat this up," she whispered.
"Well, there's no reason for the more personal information to leak out," Gordon pointed out, "and the Joker has put Quinn in the hospital before, so it's not like they're going to be that interested . . ."
"Actually," she said thoughtfully, realizing that she knew how to protect Harley and annihilate the Joker at the same time, "I think it's time I came out of the closet."
"What?"
"I happen to know a thing or two about what homicidal rage does to a person. They get stupid."
_________________________________
The Joker tore the bandage from the roll with his teeth and winced as he tightened the wrappings around his wrist. Those damned ungrateful . . . you never bit the hand that fed you! It wasn't done!
Of course, it wasn't actually _his_ hand that fed the hyenas. He left those menial tasks to - he couldn't say her name. That _whore_ always fed those animals.
"Maybe I should have thrown them a steak once or twice," he thought out loud. But it was his money that paid for their dinner. They should have known that, damn it!
Well, when he got some new pets, he'd feed them himself. Or at least, he'd make sure they knew they only got fed when he told people to do it. Maybe a piranha in a fishbowl, like that comic strip.
Perhaps the hyenas shouldn't have been the top thing on his mind at that moment, after the other revelations of the night before. But his mind didn't work like other people's. And there was no point thinking about that bitch, because she was dead. She had to be; therefore, she was.
"Pammy," he murmured. An ugly look filled his eyes. "You'll be my very own bonsai tree. Careful pruning should keep you alive for weeks." The Joker chuckled, then whined as he accidentally put weight on his injured ankle. He fell back into the recliner, once again in a thoroughly bad mood.
So instead he put the television volume back on, just in time for the twelve o'clock news. He wanted to see what they were saying about him.
Summer Gleeson's face filled the screen. She'd never shown his comedic talents proper respect on her news program. Maybe if he left himself a Post-It, he'd remember to kill her one of these days.
"And our top story is another late-night escape from Arkham Asylum. This time it's the Joker, once again on the loose in Gotham. We've all heard that time and again, haven't we?"
"Duh," he muttered. He'd been planning to bust out after he'd heard Har - the slut - escaped without him, but that night, he'd just _sensed_ that it was a good time to make his move. Evidently his instincts had been correct; he'd made good time last night.
"But today, we have a double scandalous twist," she went on. "First, reports leaking out of Arkham indicate that the head of Arkham Asylum, Dr. Park, is stepping down under less-than-savory circumstances."
The Joker chuckled. The next Arkham head to last a year would be the first. And his instincts were definitely still first-rate.
"Even juicier," Summer continued, "is the prospect that Harley Quinn, longtime obsessed fan and loyal henchwoman to the Joker . . ."
He perked up. Had they found her body already?
" . . . is cutting her ties to her 'Mr. J' once and for all. Now recuperating from what police describe as a particularly vicious assault by the Joker at an unnamed hospital, Miss Quinn will be supplying authorities with the most secret details about the criminal mastermind and his operations as soon as she is physically able."
The Joker stared at the television, the shock clearly evident on her face and growing. She couldn't, she wouldn't!
"Including," the anchorwoman had continued, "locations of his hideouts, secret bank accounts, future plans, and other information she's never given to _anyone_. How long, I wonder," she added slyly, "before the agents and publishers start calling?"
Without noticing, he'd begun pulling the stuffing out of his chair with his uninjured hand.
"The police aren't confirming," Summer pointed out, "but anonymous sources also say the reason behind Miss Quinn's defection is not so much the Joker's attempt on her life, as it is the arrival of a new someone in her life. Apparently the Joker wasn't the perfect man for her after all."
Filled to the brim with a towering, volcanic, almost nuclear rage, the Joker rose to his full height and put his foot through the television screen and Summer Gleeson's smug face.
He howled, not in anger, but in pain. He'd just used the wrong foot to kick his TV.
_______________________________________
While the powers-that-be attempted to return some semblance of order to Arkham (or rather, what went for order there), most of the inmates had been relegated to the recreation area. They were watched over by several employees in a heightened state of anxiety, refusing to tell the prisoners anything.
Not that any of this was really necessary, as it happened. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that if the Joker wasn't there, then he'd probably escaped. And since the Arkham big shots were clustered around the television, they were getting everything they needed to know from local news. And besides, they weren't going anywhere. It was too much fun watching their doctors and guards acting like headless chickens.
They were also having a good laugh at the Joker's expense.
"Looks like Joker's private piece of ass finally got smart," Killer Croc chortled loudly.
"Guess she got tired of getting smacked around," Two-Face volunteered.
"After all these years? I thought it turned her on, or sumthin'," Croc replied.
Truth be told, most of the Rogues had a hard-on for their female counterparts, and the fact that the Joker had Harley draped all over him, even though he treated her like shit, created a lot of resentment. Now, however, they fantasized out loud about Harley and her "availability".
"Stupid hairstyle, and always keeping that face of hers covered up," Scarface was saying now, "but that body? I got wood just lookin' at her."
"You'd get wood looking at the dummy, Scarface, seeing as how that's what your pecker's made of," Two-Face sneered.
The others laughed uproariously.
"So who's this new somebody in her life, then? Not any of you clowns," Scarface retorted angrily.
"Quite a . . ."
"Don't say it, Nigma."
"Sorry."
"It would have to be someone at Stonegate," the Scarecrow suggested. "Not even we're crazy enough to put moves on Harley while the Joker's around."
"Maybe that Bane character," Scarface suggested. "He's got that Latin lover thing workin' for him."
As the others debated Harley's new mystery man in boisterous and extremely crude language, Professor Crane quietly considered what was, as the Riddler would have said if permitted, a fine riddle. He felt he knew Harley about as well as anyone. And he couldn't see her even looking at another man.
He chuckled to himself as the discussion shifted once more to enraptured thoughts on Harley's body, along with the other women of Gotham. He admitted to himself that he wasn't all that interested. He didn't think of women as sexual objects. About the only thing that turned him on was fear. Poison Ivy was another favorite of the boys, although if she'd been here, this discussion would never have started - she had a way of intimidating . . .
Crane drew up short. Who was the one person Harley ever spent a great deal of time with, besides the Joker? Who was the one person no one, including the highly possessive Joker, would ever suspect of being romantically involved with Harley, on the grounds that this person was a "she"? And who wasn't in Arkham today?
A slow smile spread across his face. "So, gentlemen, have we reached a verdict about Harley's new obsession?"
The Riddler glanced his way. "Two-Face and Croc have a wager. One thousand dollars that it's either Bane or Clayface."
"Dear me," he replied. "Is Clayface even anatomically compatible?"
"Who knows? All Two-Face knows is, he could make himself look like the Joker, so maybe that's how he seduced her. And Croc still insists that she got her kicks from being beaten, so he thinks she'll go for Bane and his venom-induced strength."
"Perhaps the venom's potency affects him in _other_ ways," Crane suggested.
Riddler blinked. "Oh, now that wouldn't be very fair."
But the Scarecrow stood up and went over to the bettors. "Mind if I add my thousand bucks to the pot?"
"Sure, perfesser," Croc replied. "You got a name, or you just betting on one of ours?"
"A thousand dollars," he said loudly enough for most everyone to hear, "on Poison Ivy."
Everyone looked at him. Then Killer Croc guffawed. "Hell, Crane, she's a woman! Sure, everyone tells stories about them two, but Quinn's been with a guy for years! What, she changed her mind all of a sudden?"
But Two-Face considered Crane carefully, fingering his coin. And he wasn't the only one.
"A thousand on Ivy," he repeated.
"We got your marker then," Two-Face growled. "How 'bout another bet? Ten thousand Joker kills Harley and her mystery 'person' before the week is out."
There were no takers.
________________________________________
The Joker snarled in animalistic rage as he struggled to his feet, after rolling on the floor, clutching his ankle. "She thinks she can cuckold me for the front page? With another woman?!" Visions of people laughing at him, instead of with him, danced in his head.
He sneered. "I should thank her doctors for saving her for me, so I can kill her all over again."
And he laughed, even as he mulled over a very important question - who should he kill first? Because who would get the chance to see the other die?
________________________________________
"How long do you think it'll take before the press finds out which hospital we're keeping her at?" Bullock asked Montoya.
"Not long at all," she replied. "We're trying to make it easy on them. That way, they'll make it easier for the Joker to find us. And then we got him."
"Slick," he said. "So that little clown is really getting it on with Ivy? Didn't think plant lady liked people enough to consider it."
"I guess so," Montoya responded, sighing. "We only have Ivy's word for it. For all we know, Quinn will wake up and ask for her Mr. J."
Bullock nodded. "Ain't it the truth." He looked around. "I just got in. Where they keeping Ivy, anyway?"
"Well, she's . . . she was over there a minute ago," Montoya said, frowning. "She must have gone to check on Quinn. She does that every so often."
It would be a couple hours before anyone realized just how long it had been since they'd seen Ivy last. And by that time, she was nearly finished with her work.
To be continued . . .
Author: Allaine
Email: eac2nd@yahoo.com
Distribution: Probably at fanfiction.net and the factsofslash group. Anyone interested should just ask, and can expect a positive answer.
Spoilers: Takes place after the New Batman/Superman Adventures, with one alteration - in my story, Ivy's skin never turned white like the Joker's. So she still looks like you and me.
Feedback: Reader response was really great the last time. I hope to see as much the second time around.
Rating: R (graphic violence, angst)
Disclaimers: All characters belong to . . . let's see, DC Comics, Kids WB and the Cartoon Network, the producers of the two Batman serials, the talented artists and voice actors, etc. I have borrowed them entirely without permission, for which I humbly beg forgiveness, but I seek no form of profit from this undertaking.
Summary: The Joker was bound to interfere in Harley and Ivy's relationship. Will it survive? Will they? Sequel to "It's Just Allergies".
_______________________________________________________
Chapter 4
"How are the babies? I mean, her pets?" These were the first words out of Ivy's mouth when she and Detective Montoya encountered Commissioner Gordon just inside the entrance to the emergency room. Twenty-four hours ago she would never have felt such a level of concern for a couple of animals who she associated more with the Joker than Harley. Now, however, she recognized that the "babies" evidently preferred Harley over their master, and after they'd saved her from the Joker's wrath, she could be more considerate. Plus, it wouldn't help Harley's recovery if she learned her former "puddin" had killed one of them.
"If she recovers," came the whispered reply in the back of her head. If she could have, she would have savagely choked the life out of the speaker.
"They're fine," Gordon replied gruffly, no doubt more worried about future human casualties. "One has a limp now, but that's all. I'm surprised you're not more interested in your friend's condition."
Montoya chuckled. "In spite of your request that she come see you as soon as possible, first she dragged me down to the ICU to check on her."
Ivy thought that, after the nightmare she'd had, she could be forgiven for being additionally fearful for Harley's life.
"Hm," he said, wrinkling his mustache.
"So, where's Beefsteak?" she asked, noticing Bullock wasn't around.
"_Detective Bullock_ is still searching for the Joker, as well as running operations at the crime scene," Gordon said testily.
Ivy only smiled innocently and said nothing.
"As long as he's out there, both of your lives are in danger," he added.
"As I recall, Harley's life is still in danger whether the Joker comes after her or not," Ivy shot back.
"Her doctor says they'll move her to a private room as soon as they upgrade her status," Gordon said. "We'll be able to guard her better there."
Ivy snorted. "What makes you think he'll come for her here, when he can just wait for her to be released into Arkham's custody? He'll probably have himself committed when that happens."
"The Joker isn't a rational person."
"The Joker likes to torture people before he kills them. He won't have that luxury in a hospital filled with police officers."
Gordon glared at her. "You don't really care what the Joker does while he's out, just as long as he gets what you think is coming to him."
"He could leave a swath of destruction through this hospital," she said coldly, "as long as he fell into my hands before getting to Harley's room."
"Keep talking like that," he warned her, "and I'll have your visitation rights revoked. You can't protect your girlfriend if I decide not to let you."
A red haze dropped over her vision. No one threatened her, least of all a two-bit civil appointee who depended on a flying bat to keep crime rates below "anarchy". She didn't need a special plant to bring this man to the floor and throttle him with his own tie.
But if they wanted to keep her away from Harley, eventually they could.
Slowly she got herself settled down. Lately she'd been able to keep her homicidal instincts in check by honestly examining how it would affect Harley's best interests. So far it appeared to have paid off.
Ivy only hoped she could keep it up the next time it counted.
"Fine," she grumbled. "You're the boss." She tasted something vile in her mouth.
"Well then," Gordon decided, while Montoya watched Ivy intently, prepared to take her into custody if the need arose. "We put a round-the-clock guard on Harley until she's released. After that, she's your responsibility."
"Which is another reason why we're getting the fuck out of this town," she replied. "Joker can rot in Gotham for all I care. He will never go near my Harley again."
Renee started. "_Your_ Harley?"
"Someone informed me that Harley and Ivy," Gordon explained dryly, "have reached a new understanding in their relationship."
"Oh?"
"Harley's traded up," Ivy added.
Montoya finally understood. "Really," she murmured, more intrigued than surprised. "Harley Quinn leaves Joker for Poison Ivy. When the press gets a hold of this, they're going to have a field day - the ultimate romantic triangle."
"It's not romantic when one of the three is a homicidal lunatic stalker," Ivy muttered.
Then it hit her.
"The press is just going to eat this up," she whispered.
"Well, there's no reason for the more personal information to leak out," Gordon pointed out, "and the Joker has put Quinn in the hospital before, so it's not like they're going to be that interested . . ."
"Actually," she said thoughtfully, realizing that she knew how to protect Harley and annihilate the Joker at the same time, "I think it's time I came out of the closet."
"What?"
"I happen to know a thing or two about what homicidal rage does to a person. They get stupid."
_________________________________
The Joker tore the bandage from the roll with his teeth and winced as he tightened the wrappings around his wrist. Those damned ungrateful . . . you never bit the hand that fed you! It wasn't done!
Of course, it wasn't actually _his_ hand that fed the hyenas. He left those menial tasks to - he couldn't say her name. That _whore_ always fed those animals.
"Maybe I should have thrown them a steak once or twice," he thought out loud. But it was his money that paid for their dinner. They should have known that, damn it!
Well, when he got some new pets, he'd feed them himself. Or at least, he'd make sure they knew they only got fed when he told people to do it. Maybe a piranha in a fishbowl, like that comic strip.
Perhaps the hyenas shouldn't have been the top thing on his mind at that moment, after the other revelations of the night before. But his mind didn't work like other people's. And there was no point thinking about that bitch, because she was dead. She had to be; therefore, she was.
"Pammy," he murmured. An ugly look filled his eyes. "You'll be my very own bonsai tree. Careful pruning should keep you alive for weeks." The Joker chuckled, then whined as he accidentally put weight on his injured ankle. He fell back into the recliner, once again in a thoroughly bad mood.
So instead he put the television volume back on, just in time for the twelve o'clock news. He wanted to see what they were saying about him.
Summer Gleeson's face filled the screen. She'd never shown his comedic talents proper respect on her news program. Maybe if he left himself a Post-It, he'd remember to kill her one of these days.
"And our top story is another late-night escape from Arkham Asylum. This time it's the Joker, once again on the loose in Gotham. We've all heard that time and again, haven't we?"
"Duh," he muttered. He'd been planning to bust out after he'd heard Har - the slut - escaped without him, but that night, he'd just _sensed_ that it was a good time to make his move. Evidently his instincts had been correct; he'd made good time last night.
"But today, we have a double scandalous twist," she went on. "First, reports leaking out of Arkham indicate that the head of Arkham Asylum, Dr. Park, is stepping down under less-than-savory circumstances."
The Joker chuckled. The next Arkham head to last a year would be the first. And his instincts were definitely still first-rate.
"Even juicier," Summer continued, "is the prospect that Harley Quinn, longtime obsessed fan and loyal henchwoman to the Joker . . ."
He perked up. Had they found her body already?
" . . . is cutting her ties to her 'Mr. J' once and for all. Now recuperating from what police describe as a particularly vicious assault by the Joker at an unnamed hospital, Miss Quinn will be supplying authorities with the most secret details about the criminal mastermind and his operations as soon as she is physically able."
The Joker stared at the television, the shock clearly evident on her face and growing. She couldn't, she wouldn't!
"Including," the anchorwoman had continued, "locations of his hideouts, secret bank accounts, future plans, and other information she's never given to _anyone_. How long, I wonder," she added slyly, "before the agents and publishers start calling?"
Without noticing, he'd begun pulling the stuffing out of his chair with his uninjured hand.
"The police aren't confirming," Summer pointed out, "but anonymous sources also say the reason behind Miss Quinn's defection is not so much the Joker's attempt on her life, as it is the arrival of a new someone in her life. Apparently the Joker wasn't the perfect man for her after all."
Filled to the brim with a towering, volcanic, almost nuclear rage, the Joker rose to his full height and put his foot through the television screen and Summer Gleeson's smug face.
He howled, not in anger, but in pain. He'd just used the wrong foot to kick his TV.
_______________________________________
While the powers-that-be attempted to return some semblance of order to Arkham (or rather, what went for order there), most of the inmates had been relegated to the recreation area. They were watched over by several employees in a heightened state of anxiety, refusing to tell the prisoners anything.
Not that any of this was really necessary, as it happened. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that if the Joker wasn't there, then he'd probably escaped. And since the Arkham big shots were clustered around the television, they were getting everything they needed to know from local news. And besides, they weren't going anywhere. It was too much fun watching their doctors and guards acting like headless chickens.
They were also having a good laugh at the Joker's expense.
"Looks like Joker's private piece of ass finally got smart," Killer Croc chortled loudly.
"Guess she got tired of getting smacked around," Two-Face volunteered.
"After all these years? I thought it turned her on, or sumthin'," Croc replied.
Truth be told, most of the Rogues had a hard-on for their female counterparts, and the fact that the Joker had Harley draped all over him, even though he treated her like shit, created a lot of resentment. Now, however, they fantasized out loud about Harley and her "availability".
"Stupid hairstyle, and always keeping that face of hers covered up," Scarface was saying now, "but that body? I got wood just lookin' at her."
"You'd get wood looking at the dummy, Scarface, seeing as how that's what your pecker's made of," Two-Face sneered.
The others laughed uproariously.
"So who's this new somebody in her life, then? Not any of you clowns," Scarface retorted angrily.
"Quite a . . ."
"Don't say it, Nigma."
"Sorry."
"It would have to be someone at Stonegate," the Scarecrow suggested. "Not even we're crazy enough to put moves on Harley while the Joker's around."
"Maybe that Bane character," Scarface suggested. "He's got that Latin lover thing workin' for him."
As the others debated Harley's new mystery man in boisterous and extremely crude language, Professor Crane quietly considered what was, as the Riddler would have said if permitted, a fine riddle. He felt he knew Harley about as well as anyone. And he couldn't see her even looking at another man.
He chuckled to himself as the discussion shifted once more to enraptured thoughts on Harley's body, along with the other women of Gotham. He admitted to himself that he wasn't all that interested. He didn't think of women as sexual objects. About the only thing that turned him on was fear. Poison Ivy was another favorite of the boys, although if she'd been here, this discussion would never have started - she had a way of intimidating . . .
Crane drew up short. Who was the one person Harley ever spent a great deal of time with, besides the Joker? Who was the one person no one, including the highly possessive Joker, would ever suspect of being romantically involved with Harley, on the grounds that this person was a "she"? And who wasn't in Arkham today?
A slow smile spread across his face. "So, gentlemen, have we reached a verdict about Harley's new obsession?"
The Riddler glanced his way. "Two-Face and Croc have a wager. One thousand dollars that it's either Bane or Clayface."
"Dear me," he replied. "Is Clayface even anatomically compatible?"
"Who knows? All Two-Face knows is, he could make himself look like the Joker, so maybe that's how he seduced her. And Croc still insists that she got her kicks from being beaten, so he thinks she'll go for Bane and his venom-induced strength."
"Perhaps the venom's potency affects him in _other_ ways," Crane suggested.
Riddler blinked. "Oh, now that wouldn't be very fair."
But the Scarecrow stood up and went over to the bettors. "Mind if I add my thousand bucks to the pot?"
"Sure, perfesser," Croc replied. "You got a name, or you just betting on one of ours?"
"A thousand dollars," he said loudly enough for most everyone to hear, "on Poison Ivy."
Everyone looked at him. Then Killer Croc guffawed. "Hell, Crane, she's a woman! Sure, everyone tells stories about them two, but Quinn's been with a guy for years! What, she changed her mind all of a sudden?"
But Two-Face considered Crane carefully, fingering his coin. And he wasn't the only one.
"A thousand on Ivy," he repeated.
"We got your marker then," Two-Face growled. "How 'bout another bet? Ten thousand Joker kills Harley and her mystery 'person' before the week is out."
There were no takers.
________________________________________
The Joker snarled in animalistic rage as he struggled to his feet, after rolling on the floor, clutching his ankle. "She thinks she can cuckold me for the front page? With another woman?!" Visions of people laughing at him, instead of with him, danced in his head.
He sneered. "I should thank her doctors for saving her for me, so I can kill her all over again."
And he laughed, even as he mulled over a very important question - who should he kill first? Because who would get the chance to see the other die?
________________________________________
"How long do you think it'll take before the press finds out which hospital we're keeping her at?" Bullock asked Montoya.
"Not long at all," she replied. "We're trying to make it easy on them. That way, they'll make it easier for the Joker to find us. And then we got him."
"Slick," he said. "So that little clown is really getting it on with Ivy? Didn't think plant lady liked people enough to consider it."
"I guess so," Montoya responded, sighing. "We only have Ivy's word for it. For all we know, Quinn will wake up and ask for her Mr. J."
Bullock nodded. "Ain't it the truth." He looked around. "I just got in. Where they keeping Ivy, anyway?"
"Well, she's . . . she was over there a minute ago," Montoya said, frowning. "She must have gone to check on Quinn. She does that every so often."
It would be a couple hours before anyone realized just how long it had been since they'd seen Ivy last. And by that time, she was nearly finished with her work.
To be continued . . .
