"Anybody else need a milkshake?" asked Harley, holding up one and looking around the room. The guests consisted of Poison Ivy, Two-Face, Jonathan Crane, and Jervis Tetch, all of whom had a milkshake each. "Good," she said, sucking on the straw as she sat down next to Ivy. "This all feels kinda official, don't it?" she asked, grinning. "Like being back at school or something."
"We never got milkshakes at school," replied Ivy.
"Or cocktail weenies," said Tetch, passing the plate to Harley.
"No, but you know what I mean," said Harley, gesturing to the chairs, facing the platform which had been set up and the chalkboard on the wall. "Sitting here like this, not knowing what to expect, waiting for the teacher…"
As if on cue, the Joker strode into the room. "Except none of my teachers were ever that hot," sighed Harley, gazing in adoration at him as he approached the chalkboard.
"Evening, boys and girls," said Joker, beaming. "I don't know how much Pammie's told you about why you're all here, but I can assure you, it's not just a social gathering."
"Yes, we know that," snapped Crane. "We're all here because attempts have been made on our lives. I think we were all hoping you had some clue as to who was responsible."
"I do know who's responsible," replied Joker, nodding. "And we'll make them pay, I assure you. But before I let you in on the joke, let me ask a couple questions. What is Gotham City famous for?"
Harley's hand shot up. "Pick me! Pick me! Oh, pick me, Mr. J, please!"
"Yes, Harley?" he said.
"Gotham City is famous for its steel and petroleum industry," said Harley, matter-of-factly. "It's one of the biggest industrial hubs in the United States, rivalled only by Metropolis, Chicago, and New York."
"Thank you, Harley, but I didn't really mean in terms of manufacturing," he replied. "More as in what Gotham is known for."
"Oooh, oooh, I know, Mr. J, pick me!" shrieked Harley, throwing up her hand again.
"Yes, Harley?" he sighed.
"It's first in the country for education," she replied. "Gotham City University rivals some of the Ivy Leagues in terms of scholarship. I'm an alumnus, by the way, did everyone know that?"
"Harley, I'm not talking about anything like that," snapped Joker. "I mean when people hear Gotham City, what do they immediately think of?"
Harley stared blankly back at him. "Um…great place to raise the family?" she said.
"Nobody thinks that!" Joker snapped. "It's a terrible place to raise the family! It's full of criminals, gangsters, and costumed freaks! And I was talking about the latter! When people think Gotham, they think about one costumed freak in particular! A flying rodent in a cape! Any guesses who I mean, Harley?!"
"Batman! It's Batman! You mean Batman, doncha, Mr. J?" she cried.
"Thank you, Harley, it was a rhetorical question," he retorted. "Just shut your mouth for the rest of the meeting, ok?"
"Oooh, Mr. J, I've been a really bad student, getting all your questions wrong," murmured Harley. "I'll have to stay after class and be punished, right? You wanna spank me, Teacher?"
Joker stared at her, then smiled at the assembled criminals. "Excuse me for just a minute," he said, stepping down off the platform and going over to Harley. "Harley, baby, you wanna be Teacher's Pet?" he murmured, leaning forward and grinning.
"Oh yeah, Mr. J," she whispered, shutting her eyes and putting out her lips.
"Then put a sock in it!" he snapped, shoving a sock into her mouth. "This ain't a double act! I'm in charge of this retaliation, and don't you forget it!"
"Hold on, when did we ever agree to that?" snapped Ivy.
"Yeah, why would we ever want a crazy nutcase in charge of this operation?" demanded Two-Face.
"We're all mad here, Harvey," said Tetch. "But I can't help but agree that a more rational, less spontaneous form of madness might be the prudent choice for a leader."
"Thank you, Jervis, I'll assume that was directed at me," said Crane, smiling. "We do need a man of intelligence to plot out a strategy, after all."
"Yeah? And you think that's you, college boy?" demanded Joker. "With your little fear gas and your mind tricks? I don't need to trick the mind in order to break it, thanks."
"I think it's ridiculous to let a male be in charge of an important operation like this," said Ivy. "It clearly needs a lady's delicate touch."
"Well, that leaves you out, bitch," snapped Two-Face. "You ain't a lady, and you ain't ever had a delicate touch. If what Pammie said is true, and the gangsters of Gotham are behind this, I should be the one in charge. I'm used to dealing with scum like Thorne, Maroni, and Falcone."
"What's needed is someone of superior intellect to those buffoons," said Tetch. "I would nominate myself."
"You?" retorted Crane. "If we put you in charge, we'll end up fighting them as the White Rabbit and the March Hare and the Walrus and the bloody Carpenter! I still consider myself the most obvious choice."
"The most obviously stupid choice," growled Two-Face. "The most obvious choice is a man who's had experience dealing with these jerks!"
"The most obvious choice is not a man," retorted Ivy. "Especially not a hot-headed, bi-polar, useless waste of skin like Harvey."
"Hold it, hold it, hold it!" shouted Joker over the yelling and fighting. "We're never going to agree like this! This is a democratic country, so let's put it to a vote. And whoever wins the vote leads the operation. Agreed?"
There was a murmur of assent. But the problem with that idea was that each of the supercriminals voted for themselves, so they were all tied at one vote each. Until they came to Joker. "Now last but certainly not least, who thinks I should be in charge of this party?" asked Joker, grinning. He raised his hand. And so did Harley.
"Two votes – that's more than the rest of you losers," said Joker, smiling. "Which means I win. You may call me General Joker, if you like. Now as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," he said, returning to the platform. "Gotham is famous for Batman. Our very own super-freak in a costume. The people behind the attempts on our lives, Rupert Thorne, Sal Maroni, and Carmine Falcone, want to rid Gotham of freaks such as ourselves. But what they don't understand is that Gotham is our city. How many times has Batman called Gotham 'his' city? He's no different to the rest of us. We're all freaks in costumes, misfits, outcasts, some of us incredibly handsome and super-intelligent, some of us not so much. But we all stand out from the crowd. We are the ones who make Gotham unique, not the likes of those second-rate crooks. Cities like Chicago and New York have problems with gangsters. But only Gotham has problems with super-villains. This is our town, boys and girls. I intend to keep it that way."
Harley burst into enthusiastic applause. The gag prevented her from speaking, but her attempts at dialogue clearly indicated approval. "Great speech, generalissimo, but what exactly is your plan, your eminence?" snapped Ivy.
Joker smiled at her, then turned to face the chalkboard. "Sources have informed me that the three mob bosses will be having dinner together to discuss what next to do about their little pest control problem tomorrow night. This dinner will take place at Rupert Thorne's penthouse apartment."
He drew a tall building onto the board. "The apartment is located on the top floor of a seemingly unbreachable fortress," he said, indicating it with a star. "There's no way in from above, which would be the Bat's usual approach. So we'll have to enter it from below."
He drew an arrow. "There's a grate leading to the ventilation shaft at the left hand side of the building. This is unguarded. The ventilation ducts will lead us to the elevator shaft which will allow us to reach the apartment undetected. Or at least, stealth is the general plan. If we are somehow discovered and forced to cause a little chaos, there is no greater fan of mayhem than I. And I'm adaptable to a little change of plans, as well, depending on how the whole operation goes. But that's the gist."
He continued to draw with the chalk, sketching out first a flower, then a bat, then a dog. The minutes ticked by in silence until Tetch held up his hand. "Um…J…what are you doing?" he asked.
"Drawing an elephant," retorted Joker.
"Has it got anything to do with the plan?" demanded Crane.
"Nope," he said, continuing to draw. "Sorry, I forgot to ask if there were any questions. Just let me finish up Dumbo here."
He drew tusks, then spears in the elephant, then blood spilling from it and crosses for eyes. "There we go!" he exclaimed. "All done! Any questions?"
Harley's hand shot up, but she was still gagged, and could only make unintelligible noises.
"What do we do when we actually reach the mob bosses?" growled Two-Face, flipping his coin.
"Well, you can give them your little coin toss if you want, Harv," replied Joker, grinning. "But even if it comes up on the good side, they're not leaving the penthouse alive."
"I meant who gets them?" said Two-Face. "There are three of them and six of us."
"Ever heard of sharing, Harv?" asked Joker. "One for me and Harley, one for you and Pammie, and one for Crane and Tetch. I don't care who gets who, so speak up now if you have a preference."
Harley tried to speak again, waving her hand. "I don't want to share with Pam," growled Two-Face.
"And I don't want to share with Harvey," snapped Ivy.
"Sheesh, it's so awkward when colleagues date and it doesn't work out," sighed Joker, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Pammie, you're with Crane and Tetch with Harvey. Any objections to that?"
Ivy and Two-Face replied in the negative, still glaring at each other. Harley was straining to speak, stretching her hand out and waving it around desperately. "Now everyone look out for your buddy when we're inside," chuckled Joker. "Save the in-fighting and trying to kill each other for when the gangsters are dead."
"And what do we do if Batman shows up?" asked Tetch.
"Don't you worry about Batsy, Hatty," replied Joker, grinning. "Leave him to me. What IS it, Harley?" he snapped, as she began leaping up in the air and waving her hand.
"Does anyone smell burning?" asked Crane, looking toward the kitchen.
Harley gestured desperately toward the kitchen. Joker pulled the gag off. "The canapes, Mr. J!" she exclaimed. "I forgot about the canapes!"
"Well, go get them, you stupid girl!" he shouted. "Why didn't you just leave and go take them out of the oven?!"
"You were speaking, Mr. J, and being so charismatic and dominant, puddin'," purred Harley. "It just really got me revving…"
"Harley, canapes, now!" he shouted, shoving her toward the kitchen as smoke began to stream from it. She rushed into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a smoldering plate of burnt food. "Anybody like them well done?" she asked.
Nobody responded. "Well, at least we still have the cocktail weenies!" she exclaimed, tossing the plate of burnt canapes away and picking up the other. "Who wants one?"
"I think I'll call it a night, if it's all the same to you," said Ivy, rising. "Want to be well-rested for tomorrow."
"Yeah, me too," agreed Two-Face. The other two murmured agreement, and in about five minutes, Joker was left alone with Harley, still holding the plate of cocktail weenies.
Harley shrugged. "More for me," she said, sitting down with the plate in front of her and devouring them.
"Don't pig out on them like that, you greedy brat!" snapped Joker, seizing the plate from her. "You'll spoil your appetite!"
"For what? Dinner? I ain't cooking tonight, Mr. J, you can't breathe in there," said Harley, nodding at the kitchen. "It's all full of smoke."
"Guess you'll just have to starve tonight as punishment, won't you, Harley?" he said, helping himself to the sausages.
"Hey, those are mine!" exclaimed Harley, trying to seize the plate from him.
"What, you expect me to starve, you useless dame?!" he demanded, fighting with her. "You're the fat one, Harley, you can stand to skip a meal!"
"I ain't fat!" she shrieked. "Any weight I put on just goes straight to my ass, that's all!"
"Yeah, so you're fat!" he shouted. "I call that flabby! You should probably lay off the puddin', Harley!"
He slapped her bottom hard and she leapt back, yelping in pain. Then her eyes narrowed as her hands balled into fists. "C'mere, puddin'," she hissed.
She punched him and he dropped the plate, sending the cocktail weenies everywhere. Then she leapt on him, knocking him the ground and choking him. "I ain't fat!" she hissed. "I ain't, I ain't, I ain't! Am I, Mr. J?"
She said this last sentence pleadingly, gazing at him tenderly. He chuckled. "No, you ain't fat, baby. You just got a nice couple of apples for Teacher to polish."
He squeezed her bottom and she grinned. "Oh, Mr. J, you do love your little Teacher's Pet, don't you, puddin'?" she breathed.
"Course I do, pumpkin pie," he replied, kissing her. "But I think I'd prefer to be called General J now, baby."
"General J!" she sighed. She giggled, and saluted. "Private Quinn, reporting for duty, sir! Got any orders for me?" she murmured.
"Yeah, I do, actually," he whispered. Then he suddenly shoved her off him and got up. "Go order me a pizza, kid."
"Okie dokie, General J, sir!" replied Harley, beaming. "And then maybe your little private can have a little private time with you, huh, sir?"
"Ten four, Quinn," he said, leaving the room.
"What's that mean? Mr…I mean…General J, I don't speak army! What's that mean? Is that a yes? General J? Sir? Puddin'?"
Harley shrugged, then grabbed the phone and dialled the pizza place. "I assume it's a yes. I'm a lucky girl – twice in one day. Maybe people should try killing Mr. J more often. It clearly puts him in the mood."