Title: Rappacini's Last Laugh (5)

Author: Allaine

Email: All characters are property of DC Comics. No profit intended, etc., etc.

Feedback: As always, greatly desired and usually responded to.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: None.

Distribution: If you want it, just ask.

Summary: Poison Ivy is mad in love, and Harley Quinn is sorely vexed by it. A DC Elseworlds fic.


Chapter 5

"Are you sure I can't interest you in the new and improved version?" the chemist wheedled. "Smile-X. Good for what ails you - life!"

"Just the usual, thanks," I replied, tucking a canister of Smile-Y laughing gas, aka Smiley, into my bag. A leather wallet containing several pellets followed it in. "Besides, don't you always say that death is easy but comedy's hard? I wouldn't want people to think I wasn't up to the challenge any more."

My chemist sulked. He was a handsome guy, except a nose like a bird's beak, and I couldn't bear to see him sully it with a frown. "C'mon, there must be other customers who'd be interested in poison gas."

"Poison LAUGHING gas, my dear," he pointed out. "No self-respecting Rogue would use that. They'd be accused of copying you. Just look at Cluemaster!"

He had a point. Cluemaster was a second-rate ripoff of the Riddler, and a symbol of derision within the underworld community. If Gotham were high school, he'd be the guy who gets shoved into lockers.

"Besides," he added, sighing, "I designed it for YOU. The least you could do is use it on a daycare center or something!"

"Speaking of challenges," I said, ignoring his complaining. He was prone to histrionics. "Do you have any experience with DNA analysis?"

"Not much," he admitted grudgingly. "I farm that work out to a different lab."

I reached into my bag and pulled out a tiny glass vial. "Then I want a complete genetic workup on this strand of hair," I said. "It's been tampered with. I want to know how, and I want to know exactly what was done."

"It'll cost a few more smackers than your usual orders," he murmured as he took the vial.

"Monopoly money still good with you?"

"Always," he said absently. "Throw in a Get Out of Jail Free card and we're even . . . whose hair is it?"

"That's not important," I told him.

He smiled finally. "This looks like a red hair."

I swallowed. He'd heard me vent about Ivy too.

"Why Harley," he said with a grin, "what plans do you have for this hair? Putting it inside a golden locket, perhaps?"

"If I take the stupid Smilex, will you drop this?" I muttered.

"A-hahahahaha!" he cackled. "I knew it! This belongs to your little passion fruit, doesn't it!"

I felt my cheeks burning to match my costume. "I'm trying to figure out what kind of whammy the Floronic Man put on Pammy, okay!"

"From her hair," the chemist chortled. "Mind-control hair care products. I suppose this gives new meaning to the phrase 'brainwashing'. Or perhaps those Herbal Essence commercials aren't an exaggeration?" Then he stopped. "Did you just use 'whammy' and 'Pammy' in the same sentence?"

I realized I had, unintentionally, and I nodded.

That set off peals of uproarious laughter as he lurched backwards, holding his chest. "A whammy on Pammy! Ho ho ho!" he screeched. "Perhaps some barley beer for my Harley dear!"

"Can you do it or not?" I growled, mortified.

He wiped tears from his eyes. "Ah Harley, you always put a smile on my face," he said. "When I'm with you, my grin might as well be permanently frozen. Give me a couple days. Although you know," he added thoughtfully, "it's too bad you couldn't have brought me a drop of her blood. The poisons I could make from THAT!"

"I'm not having you run tests for your enjoyment," I retorted. Ivy always made me grumpy.

"Harley, you're pining away for the most unattainable woman in Gotham," he replied cruelly. "I find anything involving that to be a source of amusement."

I stormed out with my supplies. This is why I use joy buzzers. Words can hurt a lot worse.


"I don't believe this."

I smiled. The primary motivation of my latest "crime" was to draw both the Batman and the Phantasm to the same location. I figured Batman would take her down, and that would be the end of Barbara's problems. The Oracle would be too busy to save her (or his) skin to worry about little ol' me.

"You really are insane."

The woman's voice behind me strongly suggested that one part of my plan had worked.

"You're actually toilet papering the stock exchange?"

Well, there was a second motivation. I told you I needed to do something after those horrible jokes at the Iceberg if I wanted to respect myself again.

Calmly I pulled two more rolls of my special toilet paper - one red, one black - and inserted them into the device I was carrying in both hands. "Just think of it as a tickertape machine gone berserk," I said as I turned around.

Black Canary was there, of course. She was the one talking to me. I had assumed that the Phantasm went where she did, and I was right. Marley's Ghost was standing just behind Canary and to her left. "Typical hacker," he said in a voice like the grave. "Except you don't limit your random malicious acts of vandalism to the Internet. You carry them out in the real world as well."

"I try to expand my horizons," I said modestly. "Maybe you could give me directions to the afterlife? I hear poltergeists have lots of fun."

"I can take you there myself," the Phantasm warned her.

"And the Dark Parakeet can be my link to the mortal realm!" I said.

The Phantasm didn't have a high threshold for banter, because he leapt toward me. I pointed my toilet-paper gun at him, but his hook clanged off the nozzle as I pulled the trigger, throwing off my aim.

Twin streams of red and black paper coursed out toward Black Canary, quickly and efficiently wrapping around her legs from her thighs down past her knees. She fell over with a squawk (get it? Canary? Squawk?).

I wasn't too interested because I was using the mechanical device to defend myself from the Phantom's slashing hook. Another swing almost cleaved it in two. "Hey!" I said. "I didn't even pay that off yet!"

Then I tumbled out of the way as the Phantasm silently pressed his attack. I could see that the Canary wasn't going to be much of a problem. She seemed to think she could tear the paper around her legs, but the laugh was on her. Those sheets of toilet paper were hand-quilted by tiny little women! Okay, maybe not, but they WERE made from a special polymer, and unless she had a good knife tucked away, she wasn't going to be walking anywhere soon.

Hurriedly I rummaged through my bag of goodies as I somersaulted backwards. Finding what I was looking for, I pulled out one of my other "non-lethal" guns. This one fired a weighted punching glove several feet before it retracted back into the barrel, and here it caught the Phantasm on the shoulder, making him spin about. He almost fell, but caught himself with one palm on the pavement.

"Why Phantasm anyway?" I asked, breathing lightly as he stood back up. "Why not Ghost? Wouldn't you rather be the 'ghost with the most' instead of - oh, I don't know, the 'phantasm with the most ectoplasm'?"

He didn't say anything. Maybe he was the Bat's younger brother. I banished that thought - if the Batman and the Phantasm were working together, then this night was going to be a disaster for me AND the Spoiler.

"Phantasm, look out!" Black Canary called out.

Both of us looked to the left - the wrong direction, as it turned out. I never even saw them coming, but I cried out and dropped my weapon as identical white bracelets flew out of the darkness and attached themselves to my wrists. The bigger surprise was when I felt an irresistible magnetic pull between the two, and I couldn't prevent my wrists from becoming hopelessly locked together.

"Oh, no!" I squeaked. I'd heard enough stories to know what had happened. Once again, I was the punchline. I was already fighting one homicidal vigilante. What was one more, right?

"Harley Quinn," the Judge intoned as he emerged from the shadows. He held a giant hammer shaped like a courtroom gavel in both hands. "I'm finding you in contempt."

"Contempt of you, ya big meanie!" I yelled back at him, stumbling backwards. With my arms locked into this position, my acrobatic abilities were being seriously limited.

When I wanted a dark, brooding crime fighter to show up, this was NOT what I had in mind!

"Contempt of others, contempt of institutions, and contempt of society," the Judge continued. As I'd heard, he was a tall gaunt figure in black faceless robes and a white judge's wig. "Are you prepared to receive sentence?"

"Hey, wait!" the Phantasm interjected, approaching him. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"Passing judgment on this prisoner, Phantasm," he replied. "Yes, I know you, Phantasm. I have read of your noble pursuit of the criminal known as the Floronic Man. I too have his name on my court docket. Perhaps if you would care to join forces, you and I could make sure he does not escape custody this time."

"Ivy," I thought to myself, panicked. If these two came after Woodrue, she was in real danger.

"You mean kill him," the Phantasm said.

"I mean execute him."

"And I suppose you're here to execute Quinn as well?"

He gestured at the stock exchange. "You see how she mocks our most venerable institutions? Even the courthouse has not been immune to her vandalism."

Guess I shouldn't have left thumbtacks on all the judge's benches at the federal courthouse last month. I thought the criminals could use a good laugh, considering they wouldn't get many of those in prison.

"That doesn't mean she deserves to die!" the Phantasm shot back.

"Says the guy with the hook for a hand," I muttered.

"Shut up!" he hissed at me.

"I'm the fact finder here," the Judge replied. "If you won't help me, then stand aside. I can take care of her from here."

"No," the Phantasm said. "I've changed. I don't kill, and I don't sit back and let others kill either."

"This is serious," the Judge warned. "You could be charged with accessory after the fact, perhaps even aiding and abetting a known fugitive."

"Let me guess - the penalty is death for both? I think you need to be impeached."

The Judge looked at him for a moment. Then he reached into his robes and hurled yet another set of manacles at the Phantasm. The Phantasm calmly knocked the first one aside with his hook, causing it to veer aside and collide with the second. They locked together and fell harmlessly to the ground.

I leapt away and allowed the two to duke it out. Canary was still trying to free her legs, but her attempts were basically useless. Whereas I was trying to free my arms, but I could tell I wasn't going to do any better. I had to run before something else bad happened, like Batman showing up. I'd never get away from him like this.

Now was a good time to run, though. The Phantasm and the Judge had completely forgotten about me, they were so busy fighting each other. The Judge was winning, too. His hammer gave him a much longer reach than the Phantasm, and his added height created an additional advantage. As I watched, he lashed out with his foot, knocking Phantasm's legs out from under him.

If the Judge killed the Phantasm, the Oracle wouldn't be much of a threat any more.

But there was nothing funny about this. And if there's one thing I can't resist, it's lightening the mood.

Digging through my bag, I pulled out a black sphere. It was simple enough to activate, even with my wrists cuffed together. I just gave it a good shake. "Hey, Wapner!" I called out.

The Judge looked at me, looming over the Phantasm with his hammer in the air. Canary's mouth was agape. At the time, I thought she was about to scream, but later I realized she'd been going to unleash her "canary cry", even though she might hit the Phantasm too.

"Catch!"

I flung the ball at him, and reflexively he caught it, perhaps afraid it would explode or shatter if he didn't. He peered at it. "Your . . . future appears cloudy?"

My patented Magic 8-Ball Smoke Bomb went off in his hand, surrounding both of the fashionably gruesome vigilantes in dense clouds of smoke. I giggled as I grabbed my things and started running. "The answer appears to be yes!" I called over my shoulder.

I didn't know what happened to Phantasm, but I did know that "the Spoiler" wasn't the only one being hunted. Peachy.


Ivy opened her door wearing nothing but a sheet. She bore a look of intense frustration. I thought for a moment that it was because I had interrupted her and Jason - yuck! "Did I come at a bad time?" I sighed. I tried not to get aroused.

"Yes, but it's not like you're interrupting anything," Ivy pouted, and I realized she was feeling unhappy AND confused, as well as frustrated. This was how she got when Jason was cruel to her. She always tried to make him happy, and yet it seemed she was always doing something wrong. "I begged Rosebud to make love to me, but he - "

"Too much information!" I cried out, trying to put my hands over my ears before I remembered they were still locked together.

No matter how wrapped up Ivy was in her own problems, there was no way she could fail to see that. "Harley?" she asked. "What happened?"

"Oh, the Judge decided to make me his latest defendant," I quipped.

Ivy actually appeared concerned. I know, it's a shock. Sometimes I forget she cares about me. When she makes me remember, it warms my body, and that night was no exception.

Of course, I was already warm. Like I said, she was only wearing a sheet.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked.

"Only if you can't get these off," I told her, keeping my hands raised. "Then I might throw my back out trying to get out of my outfit."

"Come in," Ivy told me, turning away. "How did you escape?"

"Someone got in his way."

"The Bat?"

"No," I said carefully. "The Phantasm."

Ivy froze and gasped, almost letting go of the sheet. It slipped several inches downward, revealing a mere sliver of her firm buttocks. I almost bit through my tongue.

I had thought about whether or not to tell Ivy about the Phantasm. Better if the Floronic Man was caught unawares when the Phantasm came calling a third time. Woodrue would be tomorrow's fertilizer. It was wishful thinking, however. There was no way Ivy would allow that to happen. Either the Phantasm would fail once more, or Ivy would be the first to die. And if that happened, I might as well hang up the tassels. Like the song says, there are few things sadder than the tears of a clown.

Besides, the Phantasm had indicated that he was no longer killing people. So I'd be putting Ivy in harm's way for nothing.

Ivy raised her free hand and rubbed her head awkwardly. I knew she had a scar across her scalp there, and I'd always assumed that Woodrue had left it there. Now, however, I was struck by an unpleasant thought. "I was told you had a couple of close encounters with the Phantasm," I said to her.

She nodded. "She wanted my rosebud dead, Harley. I don't know what I would have done if she had succeeded - taken my own life, perhaps. But I was victorious, and we never saw her again."

"Is that how you got that scar?" I asked.

Ivy dropped her hand guiltily when she realized what she'd been doing. "Yes," she admitted. "Tried to take my head off with that hook. I was lucky."

Now I was sorry I'd possibly saved the Phantasm's life. I should have left her to the Judge . . . "Wait, did you say the Phantasm's a girl?"

"You didn't know?" Ivy asked.

"I tried not to get close enough to find out," I admitted.

"Oh. Well, I have. The Phantasm's definitely female."

"Righty-o. Um, Pammy? Maybe you should skip town for a few days?"

"Absolutely not!" Ivy said instantly. "I must remain at my rosebud's side until that madwoman comes back!"

I was afraid of that.

"Besides," Ivy added, "if I leave, you'll be all alone. You did say the Phantasm was after you too, right?"

I was shocked. "Uh, no, I didn't. But she's tracking me down, her and the Black Canary."

Ivy frowned as she took some seeds from a small box and spilled them over my cuffs. She licked her finger with her tongue and - besides unintentionally turning me on, something she does a lot - rubbed it across the seeds, causing them to burst into green. I could feel tiny roots burrowing through the technology in my manacles, and within moments there was a short, and they fell uselessly from my wrists. "If my love was not a potential target, I'd come home with you, just to make sure you got there safely," she said.

I blushed under my mask. "Aw, Red," I mumbled.

"Her name is Ivy."

"Eep!" I jumped, startled.

"Rosebud," Ivy said happily, her eyes glowing. Her rosebud was an abusive jerk. He didn't deserve to make her eyes light up like that. Why couldn't I do that? "Yes, he's right, Harley. I've told you before that my name is Ivy, not Red." She chuckled. "If either of us should be called Red, it's you," she pointed out, gesturing to my costume.

"Sorry," I muttered, staring at Jason Woodrue. I think he was born with a sinister look. Or maybe it was just because he hated me. I often wonder why he doesn't have my killed, so Ivy will be completely dependent on him once more. My best guess is he finds me mildly useful as Ivy's "caretaker" whenever he's broken her heart for the umpteenth time.

Who am I kidding? Ivy IS completely dependent on him. I haven't been able to reduce the hold he has over her, and don't think I haven't tried. I'm just a gnat to him.

That's why we cordially despise each other. And why I've got geeks in lab coats looking at Ivy's hair - hopefully with six kinds of microscopes and one of those electric tweezers from Operation!

"Why is she here?" Woodrue demanded rudely.

"She had news for us," Ivy told him quietly. "The Phantasm is back in town. I thought we'd never see her again, Jason," she added, her face growing worried once more.

Woodrue frowned. "She failed before," he replied pompously. "I expect you will defend our home to your last breath for me?" At last he favored her with a smile

"Oh, of course!" she said rapturously. "I'd die before seeing you come to any harm."

He just nodded. Her devotion was something to be expected, not appreciated. He treated their plants the same way. The hideout was filled with foliage, of course, and I noticed once again how the flowers and plants bowed to him, as if he were their king. Whereas they caressed Ivy as she walked past, like a mother.

Her love was a privilege he didn't deserve, and yet he treated it like it was his birthright. If she ever gave me a chance, I'd work to earn it for the rest of my days.

Easy to say that, when it'd never happen.

"Thanks for the help, Ivy," I said glumly.

"Please be careful, Harley," she told me.

"Yes, Harley," Jason added, coming over. He put an arm around Ivy's shoulders and squeezed her close. "Be careful. And be on your way. I'm feeling frisky all of a sudden."

I was forgotten. I wasn't sure which was worse - his smug words, or the look of joy on her face.

I didn't know how much more I could take of that. And my mood worsened the next morning when I heard on the news that while I was trying to lure Batman to the stock exchange, he had been off saving the world with the Justice League. At least maybe the Judge's attack on the Phantasm would keep Oracle distracted for now, but the Oracle was more Barbara's problem than mine, and I couldn't get too excited over that silver lining. Not even the reports of frantic stockbrokers crowding the streets cheered me up.

It seemed like I was only laughing on the outside lately.

Two days later, when all I wanted to do was sit around and eat ice cream until I couldn't fit into my suit anymore, I got a call from the chemist. He asked me to come over.

And everything changed.

Maybe the cosmos has a sense of humor after all.

To be continued . . .