AN: here we are! More plotty things and Joker! Yaayyy! Props to anyone who can guess what cartoon Harley's watching. Thanks to Koriandr1 and Amelia-bella for reviewing!

~Luna

Chapter 5

Harley was giddy. She had gotten to see her baby and went over to Red's, telling her best friend all about her day. Red had nodded along while watering some super-super dangerous plant. Harley thought the plant was pretty, up until it tried to bite her. Then it was just plain rude.

But she was home now, sprawled out on the couch. Bud and Lou were vying to lay down on her lap, and some cartoon was on. Harley didn't really understand it, but she had liked the glowing Dorito guy. He kind of reminded her of Mr J, just in a more illuminati triangular form.

The door opened and Harley called out her standard "Hiya Puddin'!"

He didn't answer. Not even the usual grumble when he was angry. Harley had been hoping he would kiss her cheek like he did on better days, but that didn't happen. After pushing Bud and Lou off of her, the blonde stood up and walked to the kitchen, where Mr J was.

"Harleen," he said in his cool voice, making her flinch. He only used Harleen when she had royally screwed up. "Do you want to tell me where you were?"

"I was at Red's," Harley said. "She's got this gorgeous new plant It's so pretty but it's really-"

Harley never got to finish her sentence, as he slammed her up against the wall, hand on her throat. Harley whimpered and her vision was going fuzzy. A low growl from Bud made her feel a tiny flicker of hope that she wouldn't go out without her babies avenging her.

"Now," he grinned. "Do you want to tell me where you really were?"

•••

After one all too perfect day, I had to return to school that Friday. Gotham Charter, for the gifted is what the brochure says. It should be changed to "For those with loaded parents". I only went here because of Uncle George's standing in Wayne Enterprises, most went because their parents had their name on one of the buildings. I hated the place, it was a hellhole full of pathetic human beings. Thankfully this was my last year, as I had skipped the second grade and was now a senior in high school. My classes were mainly all honors courses, my favorites being AP Psychology and AP Chemistry. The former made me feel closer to my mother, while the latter was just fun as the top three students would get a paid internship at Wayne Enterprises, testing the military grade equipment. I was number two in that class, beat out by a student who had transferred the day I was gone.

I carefully strode in to third period AP Psychology, taking my usual seat in the back. Each of the tables in this class seated two people, and I was glad that we had an odd numbered class and I had my own table. Like every other class, I was alone and in the back, exactly the way I preferred it. Until, I saw a ratty school bag slam down on my table.

I looked up at the person, utterly annoyed. Everything about him screamed wannabe rebel from the threadbare black hoodie to the jeans so over worn that the knees were white. He was exactly the kind of boy I would hate. His individual features seemed too big for his face, giving the boy a dorky look. His hair seemed to stick out from his forehead, as if suspended by wires. He also gave off the "stick up his ass vibe" which made me dislike him immediately.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a thin smile masking my rage.

The boy did something inexcusable, he sat down in the chair next to me, at MY desk! "I sit here."

"No you don't. This is my desk," I argued.

"I sit here now, I transferred," he stared curtly, signaling an end to the conversation.

I angrily slammed a pencil case on my desk, having no other way to vent my frustrations. The bell rang and class had started, but I couldn't care less. We were supposed to be taking notes on one of Freud's theories but I was laying out another blueprint for my next device. This time I was thinking about refitting Jay's RC helicopter with something more explosive in nature. I giggled at the thought of detonating the helicopter, taking out a sizable amount of Aunt Marilyn's flower beds and maybe her with it.

"Lucinda Quinzel! Do pay attention!" The teacher shouted from the front of the room, slamming a ruler down on her desk.

I rolled my eyes and pretended to take notes, trying to figure out where to put the explosives in the helicopter. My seat partner stared at me.

"Quinzel? As in Dr Harleen Quinzel?" He whispered.

"She's my mother, but that none of your business now is it?" I stuck out my tongue at him. It was a juvenile gesture, I understand. But I felt it was also the only way to get this boy off of my back.

He stared directly into my eyes, a motion I returned. Never let someone think you're intimidated, especially some snot nosed, probably old money boy. I noticed something strange. The edges of his irises seemed to be jagged, almost bleeding out into the sclera. There was no darker ring of color around the edges to act as a border. Strange. I'd never heard of any drug that could do that, not even Joker Venom or fear toxin. Or even Viper, the unstable steroid that was a precursor to Venom.

"Jonathan and Lucinda! Pay attention or you will receive detention!" The teacher shrieked and I vaguely wondered how funny it would be if she discovered a timed bomb in her desk.

The boy have a nod in greeting. "Jonathan Crane."

I raised an eyebrow. "You are not Jonathan Crane."

"And how would you know that?" He smirked, immediately making me want to slap it off his face.

"Jonathan Crane is forty something years old," I remarked, going back to my doodles. "And currently incarcerated in Arkham Asylum."

He chuckled, his laugh one I actually liked the sound of. No, I chastised myself. This boy is the enemy.

"Have you ever heard of the immortality serum?" He said under his breath, not even finishing his question before the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

He left without a word, the first one out the door. I'm ashamed to say I sat there, nearly dumbfounded for the first time in my life. Shaking my head, I packed up and followed this "Jonathan Crane" out into the hallway. Lunch was starting but I couldn't care less. This boy was cryptic, but damn it I was interested. I found him in the empty chemistry classroom, mixing two vials into each other instead of eating lunch. Chemistry was my next period, so I figured that staying here wouldn't do me any harm.

"What'cha doin'?" I asked in my best Mama impression, knowing it would annoy him.

He sighed, but didn't look at me. "Am I just a special case? Or do you pick someone to annoy, a new one each day?"

"Nope," I replied, pulling out my sandwich. "You are just an easy target." I punctuated my point with pretending to shoot him with a finger gun.

We sat in silence then. I kept eating my sandwich. There was only about twenty minutes of lunch left. I couldn't foresee him making anything worthwhile or even useful with the time constraints.

"So if you really are Jonathan Crane," I began. "Where would you- hypothetically, of course- live?"

"1007 Mountain Drive," he still refused to look at me.

"Now I know you're lying," I stated, flicking out a Swiss Army knife and playing with the blade. Out, in, click. Out, in, click. "I think it's rude to lie to someone you just met."

He snorted, writing something down in his notebook. "How do you know I'm lying? I could just have a strange address."

"Because that's the address of Bruce Wayne," I laughed. "You really are stupid aren't you? I've met Bruce Wayne and his adopted sons, you aren't one of them. And I highly doubt he'd take in a boy named Jonathan Crane. The man may be a player, but he's smarter than that."

We sat in silence and I felt triumph. I had won, I always won. He ignored me again as I bit into my sandwich, leftovers from my day with Mama. Idiot. He may have been smart, but he clearly didn't know to not get in an argument with me. He got up with a murky looking liquid in a test tube. I swore it moved as if it was alive. He dumped it into the still steaming coffee on the teacher's desk, before disposing of the test tube.

"You never answered my question from last period," he said. "I will reiterate in case your hair bleach has sunk into your brain. Do you know what immortality serum is?"

"The real Jonathan Crane's latest weapon-of-the-day," I answered, before registering his insult. "This is all natural, you inbred!"

The bell rang for lunch and I still didn't back down. After he made a move to leave, I gathered my things and walked over to my desk. Unfortunately, Mr Crane followed. I slammed my hand down on my desk, palm splayed out over the blade of my knife.

"This is my desk. Also my class," I defended.

He sat down, again. I should just stab him right now. "You know Lucinda, I heard that you are the top student in this class. Well, you were, until I entered this class."

That's it. I envisioned myself just taking the knife and slashing the corners of his lips open, blood staining his teeth a bright red, him in the fetal position on the floor, his blood staining the the tile and seeping into the cracks. Just the thought made me a little giddy, I was doing my best to keep a straight face. I wanted to do it, my hand was already on the knife already. Just a quick slash and...

"Ms Quinzel sit down!" The teacher shouted, snapping me out of my morbid fantasy.

I complied, slipping the knife into my pocket. Jonathan just smirked, but did scowl as a boy slid into the seat in front of us. I didn't blame him.

Damian Wayne, the only biological child of Bruce Wayne, or so I'm told. The boy was a demon wrapped in Armani shirts with two older brothers to deal with any dissenters of the Wayne clan. He wasn't even a senior, he was a freshman and had already worked his way into most of my classes. He hung out with a strange group and they all looked like they didn't have anything in common. First was Stephanie Brown: a track star, social butterfly and actually pretty fun if you bypassed the way she talks. Then came Cassandra Cain, another one of Bruce Wayne's children, who didn't talk, at all. And finally was Tim Drake. The kid was terrified of me, and I wasn't really sure why, I hadn't done anything to him yet. They stuck together, apart from everyone else. Also they were all picked up by either one of Damian's older brothers, Dick or Jason. Both were intimidating, but at least Dick had a sense of humor. Jason usually refused to talk to me at the odd Wayne family party my aunt and uncle were invited to, and when he did he always had to clench his teeth. Nutter.

Demon Boy turned around, glancing at me and then Jonathan. "Criminal; imposter." He greeted respectively. How cheery.

"Devil."

"Brother," I heard Jonathan say. I started to suspect every one in the school except for me was in on the "let's make the loon believe that Jonathan lives with the Waynes" ruse.

The teacher gave us our lab assignment, it was to create a non-toxic chemical reaction happen as quickly as possible. The teacher didn't seem to care much today as she just took a sip of her coffee and walked around the room. I kept an eye on her, wondering what the now contaminated coffee would do to her. I reached for the crucible to burn something, but Jonathan placed a hand on mine.

"Wait for it," he fixed his gaze over at the teacher. "Three, two-"

"One" was cut off by a shriek of the teacher as she dropped to the ground, convulsing. Students mobbed her, a few of the more squeamish threw up, while Damian, Jonathan, and I were in the back. I stood up on a desk to get a better look. I could see foam and something strange happening with her face. The teacher's mouth was opened in a silent scream, but her skin seemed to be pulling back and then plumping up. Her chest was a bit more perky, and pounds seemed to just shed off her body. She had effectively been reduced to a teenager and a very pretty one at that.

I sat down in my table. Huh. Well that happened. Jonathan yanked me down by my collar. Nutter. "So now you know what immortality serum does. Do you want to rethink your statement about me not being the Scarecrow?"

I shook my head, too busy laughing to even form words. He had done it. And he wasn't a pile of Jonathan Crane flavored goo in an unspecified back alley. I laughed at the absurdity, at the minuscule probability of this ever working. Also the fact that one of the most feared villains in Gotham was now a dorky looking teenager! He looked at me like I was insane, and maybe I was for that moment in time, but it was all. Just. Too. Funny!

"You did this," Damian snarled, literally leaping across a desk to strangle Jonathan. I stopped my giggling, realizing we had an audience.

"Back off demon spawn," I spat, trying to pull the two apart.

And that's when the principal, security guards, and EMTs burst in. Their faces were the picture-perfect version of shock as they took in the complete chaos of the scene. And I couldn't help but laugh, breaking the very awkward silence.