...Day 23 after the siege in Gotham where dozens of inmates escaped from Arkham Asylum. Still no sign of Batman and the citizens are in full panic. As the GCPD attempt to reign in the mass chaos, a masked terrorist who goes by Bane has made a threat on the city's wealthiest citizens...
TheJoker watched the news as updates were aired hourly after that first night. He was angry with himself for not seeing this coming. He was always at least two steps ahead of, well, everyone. He had been distracted. She always distracted him. He hated her. So why did he always bind himself tighter to her? He owned every part of her and she gave herself freely to him and he was greedy.
The moment he laid eyes on her at Arkham he knew she belonged to him. Who did she think she was wearing that tight pencil skirt and that purple silk blouse that had one too many buttons undone? She wore a silver cross necklace that dangled between her breasts. It was a gift from her confirmation he had later learned. She chewed the end of her pen during their first session and he had forgotten how to speak as he watched the black cap sit on her cushiony bottom lip. She immediately got lost in his gospel of chaos and asked him questions that in no way pertained to his so called recovery. She didn't care about his age or if his father abused him, no, she wanted to know more about how he obtained his pyrotechnic knowledge and how he was able to pull off his masterful plans, although he would never tell her that much. She eyed his scars unabashedly, but never seemed disgusted, only intrigued.
It didn't take long for him to figure her out. Her father left when she was a baby and she didn't remember him at all. She was jealous of the other little girls who got to attend those daddy-daughter dances in elementary school. Everywhere she looked, fathers were doting on their little girls, buying them presents, calling them "princess". He used this to his advantage, immediately taking up a "daddy" role with her. He made her feel protected even from inside the asylum by standing up for her when others said crude things about her or spread rumors. He called her "pumpkin" and "sweetheart". He made sure she knew he was the boss by issuing a spanking over his knee when she didn't listen to him. She called him "Mister Joker" then. She was hiding her accent at the time, but it would slip out every once in a while, more and more as she became comfortable with him. It took two months of him manipulating her before she went from calling him "Mister Joker" to calling him "Daddy" as he took her on the chaise lounge in her office. She made it so easy with all her needs and desires and he was eager to fulfill them all. At some point he realized he was no longer manipulating her because he actually meant the things he was saying. He wanted her to be his parter, he wanted to protect her, he wanted her to run away with him. It only took one more month for her to agree to help him escape using her asylum credentials. He could have done it without her, but this was the final test before she could truly belong to him. It would prove she was fully corrupted. Their last several sessions were documented with made up information because they barely spoke during any of them.
Once they had escaped and she started living his life with him he began to show her more of his true side. His mood fluctuated like the weather. His anger was shown through physical means. He remembered vividly the first time he hit her, truly hit her, not a playful spank, but a punch to the jaw. She had the audacity to ask him about a job he had just gotten back from. It hadn't gone well, she found that out quick. However, much to his surprise, she apologized to him. Oh, this is too good, he thought. So from there he took advantage of her submissiveness. Who knew she would be the perfect little masochist to his sadist? She began to enjoy the pain as much as he enjoyed inflicting it. He opened a new world to her with each slash of his knife and she reveled in it. She had become Harley Quinn. His Harley Quinn. Ha-ha-Harley. His best joke of all.
A timid Harley came down the stairs to see The Joker sitting in the living room with the TV on. She was surprised at the progress he made since she last saw him a week ago before going to Hope's house. She wondered if he had been able to go down the stairs himself. He was muttering to himself and cursed Bane as the news story continued.
"Can I getcha anything... Daddy?", she asked.
He sighed and turned off the TV before his eyes swept her direction. He cracked his neck, the snap echoing off the bare living room walls. "I want you to, uh, come here.", he said I'm a low voice as he crooked his finger toward her. His eyes narrowed as she moved closer and her stomach felt tight. She came and sat next to him. "Closer", he said as he patted his lap. She sucked her bottom lip and was hesitant before she obeyed and propped herself on his lap.
"Shh, shh, shh", he cooed as he patted her head and held it tightly to his chest. "Don't cry, Harley Baby."
"But, I'm not cryin', Mista J.", she said confusedly as her eyes shifted back and forth.
"Oh, but you're gonna be.", he said with a sneer.
She gasped and tried to sit up quickly, but his arms were wrapped around her, one around her neck and the other cradling her jaw and they both tightened as she attempted to escape. She tried to push away from him with her hands against his chest to no avail.
"Sweetheart, everything can go back to the way it was before as long as you tell me one thing." She continued to squirm in his tight embrace. "Stop it.", he growled, popping the t and her body immediately went limp. "Tell me about the lesson you learned these last nine months, hmm?", he raised an eyebrow as he lifted her chin to look in her eyes, still pressing her tight to his chest.
It was hard to form words with the grip on her jaw, but she managed to take a deep breath before she spoke. She knew the wrong answer would land her in a world of pain and all she wanted to feel right then was his affection again.
She reached a hand up to play with a green curl that fell just behind his ear. "I- I got a taste of what my life would be like if you weren't around." Her voice shook and her cheeks flushed with humiliation.
His hand moved from her jaw to wrap around her slender neck. He positioned her so that she was leaning back from him and he gave her an open palmed smack on the cheek. "Mhmm, and what was that like?"
She flinched and her eyes watered. She swallowed thickly before she spoke. "Desolate." Her palm rested against the side of his neck and she could feel his steady pulse. "I thought I had lost you. That you were done with me. I was worried you'd never look at me the same way again, Mista J." The tears spilled out of her eyes as she closed her lids and sniffed.
A smile teased his lips and he gave her another harsh smack and she whimpered. "Who owns you, Harley?" He glowered at her with all the disappointment in the world reflecting from his face.
"You do.", she whispered as she locked eyes with his intensely.
Another deliberate smack and this time she shrieked. "Will you ever put anything ahead of me again? Hmm?"
Her voice was shaking, "Never."
"Good.", he said as he released her.
She scrambled up to sit on her heels on the couch cushion next to him as she quickly wiped her tears away. He sat back into the corner of the couch to get a better look at her. She tucked a golden strand of hair behind her ear and looked down awkwardly under his stare. Her face was a lovely shade of red on the right cheek as the outline of his hand slowly became visible, a spot of blood forming where his wedding ring impacted. A sadistic grin spread over his unpainted face.
"Haaaaaaarley.", he drawled. She met his gaze. "Daddy missed his Harley Girl." He raised an eyebrow at her.
She scooted toward him on her knees and gave a shy smile. He pulled her back on his lap, but this time in a gentle embrace. He brushed his thumb across the scar on her right cheek and she mimed the same motion on his. He cradled her in his arm and leaned in to give her a deep kiss. His hand moved up and down her side as they continued kiss after kiss. He laid her down on the couch and as he moved above her and kissed her neck there was a knock at the front door. He ignored it initially and continued nipping at her leaving a trail of red marks along her soft flesh, but the knock came again. He grumbled and yelled, "What?!" at the front door that was several feet away.
The door opened and a henchman, Mo or something or other, let himself in and suddenly became red in the face as he realized what he had walked in on. "Oh! Sorry, boss, I, uh, didn't know you had company." The Joker sat up and straightened his clothing out as Harley rolled her eyes and pulled her shirt down. It always irritated her when the newer goons didn't realize he was married.
The Joker lifted an open palm toward the man and gave a nod, "You must have a good reason to, uh, interrupt so get on with it." He lit a cigarette, still obviously trying to come down from the fevered moment with his wife. Harley crossed her arms and glared at the man.
"Well, we, were visiting that arms dealer, like you told us to, right? And, well, I guess he, the dealer, was really in deep with the mob because some gangsters came in threatening him and shootin' the place up."
The Joker was looking bored with this conversation as he took another drag. He gestured with his hand for Mo (or whatever his name was) to speed it up.
"Felix is dead!", he finally spit out.
Typically The Joker wouldn't have cared less if a henchman died, but Felix had been trustworthy and had been loyal for a long time, as far as henchmen go. The Joker knitted his eyebrows and extinguished the cigarette. Harley looked to him with an anxious expression.
"Did you catch the name of who it was that killed him?"
Mo shrugged, "They was callin' him Frosty."
Frosty, the name chimed in the back of The Joker's memories. The Joker squinted and leaned forward, "Frost? Jonny Frost?"
"Yeah, uh, maybe boss."
"Find him and bring him to me." The Joker leaned forward and a smile spread across his face.