"What's your idea Mistah J," Harley followed Joker into the bedroom.
He quickly turned on the news.
"They reported on it earlier," he thought out loud.
"On what Mistah J?"
"That Wayne guy, uh, Bruce Wayne. He's doing some kinda fundraiser, so he's throwing a party, of course," he said.
"Kay, I don't understand," Harley looked confused.
"I'm get-ting to that, dearest. See, we are gonna crash it," explained Mr. J, "Last time I made an appearance at Wayne's the Batman showed right away,"
She nodded, "I see Mistah J, and if we wreck the party there won't be any money raised ta better Gotham," she air quoted.
"Now you're gettin' it Har-ley Quinn, two birds, one stone,"
"So when's the party Mistah J?" she questioned.
"I don't know. But if we watch the news long enough I'm sure will find out," he nodded, "There's war and suffering all over the world but they'll re-port on Bruce Wayne's party aaall day,"
The commercial break ended and returned to Gotham City News, "Doctor Harleen Quinzel was reported missing today by a neighbor,"
Harley gasped, "Turn up the TV Mistah J," she leaned forward listening to the broadcast.
"Her neighbor contacted the Gotham Police Department saying she had not seen Quinzel for about three days. Dr. Quinzel had treated the Joker while in Arkham Asylum causing some concern over her where abouts, especially after the recent death of her boss Doctor Joan Leeland. Gotham Police Department's Commissioner Gordon states that they intend to investigate Quinzel's apartment with in the next few days," the male newscaster concluded.
"Well whatdya now, you're famous Harleykins," smiled Joker.
Harley was not as amused, "Can they do that Mistah J, can they really go through my apartment? What do we do if they find out I'm with you?"
"Uh, nothing. What are ya so worried about? I say let em' find out," he shrugged, "In fact why don't we stop by you're place and give em' something to find,"
"I don't know Mistah J,"
"Aw come on Harl you're with me now, don't care what everyone thinks. Besides what's the worst that can happen? Hm, we get caught? I get put back in Arkham?," he scoffed, "Look what happened last time I got caught,"
"I guess you're right," Harley said.
"Of course I'm right," Joker said in a song song voice, "Now c'mon," he grabbed Harley's hand.
"But what about watching the news. We gotta find out more about Wayne's party remembah," she reminded him.
"I'll put Chuckles in charge if it, now let's go. We've got alooot of re-decorating to do,"
After driving to Harley's old apartment building the couple made their way inside. They did not meet any other tenants in the hall, but Harley supposed it would not matter if they did. Joker would make quick work of anyone in their way. She wasn't feeling nervous any more. Not with Mr. J. Harley Quinn liked the reassured feeling she found with him. She entwined her hand in his gloved one and smiled at him. Never had Harleen Quinzel felt such complete security and confidence. She wasn't sure why she felt so safe with Joker when logic screamed the opposite. But since she had accepted her transformation from Dr. Quinzel to Harley Quinn many things began to lack in logic.
Joker picked the lock on Harley's apartment door and went inside. Harley closed the door behind them. The apartmant was begining to dim with the setting sun, it cast shadows across the room. It felt odd to her, though she had only stayed with Joker a few days it felt like forever since she had been in her apartment.
"So what did ya mean by redecoratin' Mistah J?" she asked while looking around her once familiar apartment.
"Ya know messin' things up," he knocked a coffee table on to it's side, "Ole' Gordon probably thinks I kidnapped ya or something. Sooo let's let him think that. That way it'll be even more fun when he finds out the truth about Har-ley Quinn," he giggled to himself.
Joker began tossing knick-knacks off a shelve near him, letting them crash to the floor. He picked up a picture frame. The photograph inside it was a man, a women and a child. He recognized the little girl's shiny blond hair.
"Are these you're parent's Harley?" he turned and held up the picture.
She stopped ransacking her own kitchen to look, "Yep," she replied, "Good ole' Mom and Pop,"
"Thoought sooo," he pulled a red sharpie out of his trench coat pocket, "So uh, when do I get ta meet em' Harls?" he started drawing red smiles across their mouths.
Harley laughed, "Oh that'd be somthin', I'm sure they'd love ya," she said sarcastically.
"Of course they would," he finished the look with a black sharpie for their eyes, "Can I call your mother Mom too?"
Harley Quinn laughed a reply and scattered some pots and pans onto the floor.
The clown produced a knife from his pocket and retracted the blade. He stabbed it into the couch and drug it across the cushion leaving large slits in the fabric exposing the couch's stuffing. Harley sat on the kitchen floor and watched him. She was perfectly content to simply observe him. She sighed lovingly in adoration of her Mr. J, there was nobody like him. She watched him stab the couch a few more times then step back and stare at his knife. She noticed this particular weapon was his favorite, it was a very unique knife. It resembled a potato peeler somewhat with a space in the center of it's thick blade.
Joker looked at the blade thoughtfully for a breif moment before he began unbuttoning his green waistcoat, followed by his shirt. Then he lowered his knife and made a cut across his middle.
"What are ya doin'?" Harley shrieked while jumping to her feet.
"What's it look like I'm doin'?" he respond casually.
He removed a leather glove and pressed his hand over the cut, now sleeping with blood.
"I'm reeepainting," he ran his bloody hand down the wall leaving a streaky, red hand print.
"B-but ya just cut yourself? What if it gets infected," she rushed to him trying to examine his wound.
"It won't, my knife's clean," he scrawled HA HA HA across the wall with a blood covered fingertip.
Harley had a hard time believing that considering Joker's messy apartment, not to mention his personal hygiene.
Almost as if he had read her mind he began to explain, "I always make sure my knives are nice and clean. I mean, say I'm gonna torture someone over a long period of time," he waved his bloody knife around, talking with his hands, "I wouldn't want my victim to die of infection before I was done with them, no. And don't worry baby doll, it's just a flesh wound," he gestured towards his cut and returned to painting.
"If ya say so Mistah J," she said sceptically and turned to go.
"Wait, Harley," he stopped her, "For the sake of DNA testing I'll need some your's to,"
"My-" she began.
Joker interrupted, "Blood ye-ah, c'mere,"
Harley slowly approached him again.
"It doesn't hurt," he emphasized the "t", he pressed the blade on her upper arm, "Just a liiitle sting and it's over,"
She whimpered as he drew a bloody line across her skin, she tried desperately not to cry.
"All done," he sang painting little hearts with Harley's blood.
When Joker finished "repainting" Harley went to the bathroom in search of band-aids. She found a box of them in a drawer under the sink. She spread one across her wounded arm and opened one for Mr. J, who was now messing up her bedroom.
"Here Mistah J," she held out the band-aid.
"I don't need that Harl," he protested.
"At least put it on so ya don't bleed on ya shirt,"
"Just leave it alone it'll heal. May-be leave a nice scar," he licked his lips.
"Are ya proud of ya scars Mistah J?" she asked curious I to why he seemed eager to get another.
"Do you know what a scar is Harls, it's uh, your body healing itself-uh. But see, the uh scar tissue that replaces your skin iiis ne-ver the same. I think it's in-ter-esting, I mean if the human body is sooo complex that it can heal itself," he traces his scarred smile, "Why can't it look the same as the skin before. I see it as kind of a metaphor, cause since I got these scars...," he lowered his voice, "I've never been the same,"
He stepped towards Harley and stroked her bandaged wound, "Thiiis," he began, "This will look different from your oth-er arm. It'll probably leave a little white line when it heals. Get it now? I changed you forever," he held her face in his hands, "How's it feel?"
It was a small cut on her arm, it didn't seem like much. But Harley supposed it meant something more. She was Harley Quinn, mostly because of him and now Harleen Quinzel was never coming back.
"Hey," Joker broke the silence, "Wanna really confuse Gordon?" he asked tugging at the waist pant of her shorts.
"Sure," she smiled leaning closer to kiss him.
He picked her up and playfully tossed her in bed. Harley giggled as he followed, straddling her and kissed neck trailing down to her exposed cleavage. Closing her eyes she moaned causing him to kiss more hungrily across her chest, occasionally biting down on her neck. Then she felt a sharp pain on her arm. Joker slid a small knife across her arm making a cut just below her other one. He sat up and finger painted the blood onto the white sheets. After he had finished he threw the knife aside, stabbing it into a wall and began kissing Harley Quinn again. He worked quickly removing her shorts as she began to tug down his pants. Joker didn't bother with her top, he wanted to make it quick. Just to leave more for the forensic team to test when they searched the apartment. He pulled off her underwear before removing his own and then thrust into her.
At first Harley tried not to scream but found herself quickly lost in the moment. She squealed with pleasure, her hips involuntarily bucking against him. The moment did not last long. Joker got off her and began dressing again. She lay in bed panting, she looked at her arm. Both cuts were now bleeding.
"Alright, that's good. We better get goin'," he buttoned up his shirt.
Harley sat up gripping her bleeding arm, "Already, are ya sure?" she whined, "We could do it on the couch. That'd be confusing for Gordy too,"
"No Harley, if anything we'd do it on the counter top. But no, we better head home. Get dressed," he walked back into the living room to add some final touches.
Harley dressed and apply new band-aids to her arm. She stepped out into the living room, Mr, J had began writing "Joker was here" across the windows with a black sharpie. She looked around the apartment, now trashed and blood stained.
"Looks great Mistah J," she took one last look.
"I know," he returned the marker to his pocket, "Aaand soon the police will come, they'll take a few looks around and have Dr. Quinzel dead and gone,"
Harley Quinn smiled, "She is,"
So I was thinking about why the Joker was so eager to tell his wonderful scar stories and I came up with two conclusions. One it's scary. I've watched TDK over and over again but everytime he tells that first scar story I get chills. Two, I think they mean something more to him. TDK Joker seems to view everything on a much greater scale then normal people. So I sat here and thought about what deep meaning the scars could hold for him and it occured to me that the Joker was like a scar to Jack. (I assume TDK Joker was once Jack as well if ya haven't noticed by now... I don't really know for sure I just didn't know what else to call him) Because it's obvious horrible traumatic things happened to Jack and when he was wounded physically, mentally, emotionally he had to heal himself. Joker is how he healed. And like a scar it is a completely different thing then what it once was. Though I still like the idea of Joker being convinced that the Joker is who he really is and that everyone has a dark side kinda deal. I've just combined the two.