CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Be careful where you tread,
I have set my mines.
You may have wanted me dead,
But in crimson the final joker shines.
I now enter as Harley Quinn."
A tingling rose slowly up her spine; the blackness was disappearing. Her laughter was echoing in her ears, but with each moment it became lower and more distant. Everything was replaced by a warmth that ascended over the back of her legs, her lower back, her—
She hissed and her pleasant awakening was over as the warmth assaulted the large wound she had on her upper back. She opened her sapphire eyes and threw her head back to glare at the person who she now felt holding her in the shower she found herself in. At first all she was met with was a face full of water. She coughed and then she met the eyes of her company.
"Why am I naked?!"
Elisa stared at her and Harley merely raised her brow, her eyes sparking in no lack of anger. She held her stationary as she put on her kindest smile, even though she was getting soaked in her own clothes.
"I'm cleaning you up, Harleen." Her eyes fell. "I never should have allowed Edward to do these things to you. I'm setting you free."
Harley tilted her head, her eyes growing narrow. "Why?" She elongated the word and smiled furtively. Elisa moved her further into the water and Harley hissed as the water further invaded her wounds, hit her sore muscles. Her cracked ribs were aching and her dislocated arm, hung limply by her side. The younger woman looked at her disfigured limb and picked it up. "Because I want to apologize. I like you, Harleen." She cringed in discomfort when Harley giggled, "You're lying," she sang. "C'mon, Elisa, Enigma, whatever. Why are ya really helpin' 'lil old me? Hm?" She craned her head and stared at her in a mix of amusement and fury.
Elisa gulped; this girl may turn out to be more dangerous than the Riddler. You could see Edward becoming mad and you knew minutes before that he would turn on you, but with Harley all you knew was that she was angry. Elisa had seen the mood swings and their quick succession. That may have been an act before, but she wouldn't doubt their validity now.
"I hate him," Elisa admitted. She carefully aligned Harley's arm and then with all her strength popped it back into place. Harley groaned, but it didn't turn into a full scream. "I hate Edward. I want him to pay for doing this to me. He beats me, he rapes me, he thinks I'm good sport; an outlet for when no one else is around to hit and he's prissy. You never deserved this from him either, and I never should have allowed him to keep you this long. That is another thing he needs to be bit in the ass by karma for. You can take him, so I'm letting you go."
"I see," Harley nodded, "I get out, I take him out, and you get to return to what little life you can salvage."
Elisa nodded, "That's the plan. We both do." Harley leaned forward and stared into the water which turned a brown from her uncleanness as it went down the drain. Her shoulders quaked as she chuckled softly, "So, you truly despite him? You know, I think you can take care of him yourself, but, ah, you're scared aren't ya? Scared of what he might do if you overpower him only to have him escape. I hope you're aware that he's gonna find out you let me go and he's gonna punish you worse than ever. After he's finished with you, what he's done in the past will probably look like child's play." Elisa was silent for a moment then Harley felt her shift, now only holding her with one arm and saw her hand dip a wash cloth beside her. She was strong, she had to admit.
"You can't wash yourself with broken wrists." She said. Harley rolled her eyes, "I know, and you know what? They hurt like hell, so I wasn't think of trying. But," she rolled her shoulders, "you're skimming over the subject, which tells me all I need to know. Hey, I'm just warning you. You are scared, but I'll tell ya something, okay?" She rolled her eyes to stare up at the girl who was now dispensing soap on the wash cloth, "I'm going to give Eddy a dose of his own torture when I'm working full capacity. I'm not going to take him out for your sake, but if you're freed as a result, then...that'll just be...a side effect. However, you think on this, I'll let you join me. And you can exact your own revenge."
Elisa began to scrub her then, Harley's words echoing through her mind. "Can you stand," she asked, hesitantly pulling her weight away. The woman was able to do so, though her legs would shake every now and then. "If you need to just lean with your shoulder against the side of the shower."
"I'm not a little kid, I know." Elisa said nothing to that and washed her legs, then told to get back under the spray. All the nasty, foul grime flowed off her. She shifted and brought her hands to Harley's hair. The woman might have allowed for this state of uncleanness but it told Harley volumes of her potential for kindness at the lengths she was going through, a side of the woman that the psychologist couldn't help but see and have some pity for—a pity that swiftly was battling her contempt.
"Want me to wash your hair? It's already wet, so why make such a waste?" She smiled slightly.
"Yeah, sure," Harley shrugged. Elisa rhythmically began to massage her scalp to loosen the dirt before applying shampoo and conditioner.
Minutes later Harley was sitting on the toilet in the sparse, but well-sized bathroom. She had a towel wrapped around her. Elisa was drying her own hair.
"This is Edward's parent's second home. They don't know he has a key."
"Ah," Harley waggled her eyebrows, looking around, "Eddy's own personal little shop of horrors." She laughed and recline her head against the wall. Elisa walked towards the door. "I'm going to go get you some clothes, stay here."
"Nope," Harley shook her damp locks, "I'm going to miraculously get of here without the use of functioning hands." Elisa left the room.
Harley closed her eyes. For a moment she was hushed, no sound, but suddenly she broke into hoarse laughter. She raised her head to stare at her dirty and discarded clothing on the floor. She could imagine what she looked like, even clean. Bruises on her face, a busted lip, and the cuts decorating her back in permanent art; red, glittering art. The thing about this art, though, was that she was going to change it, some way. She stopped laughing and snarled. She would not consent to having that man's signature on her back. She frowned for a moment longer, but was soon cackling again.
The Riddler wanted Harley Quinn? Oh, then, did she hope she satisfied that. She'd give the show of a life time and send him to whatever underworld that accepted him with a hell-raising laugh. She could just imagine the fun.
And the rules she use to follow; such idiotic, idealogical things they proved to be . Where had they gotten her in the end? Here, beaten, and well, she finally saw the truth now. Chaos licked at her, called her name, and she was more than happy to answer. She reached out and fully embraced it—her mind churned into sick, beautiful ebony and the most exquisite crimson. It was all death, blood, and pain. Every little piece was falling into the puzzle. Harley...Harley Quinn was out to play and ready to leave her own mark on the world. She licked her battered lips, energy sizzling through her.
Who wanted to mess with this angelic Eris first?
The door opened and Harley raised her now wide eyes to glare at the intruder only to smile deviously when she saw it was Elisa again—she was now sporting dry clothes. The woman was carrying a bundle atop which rested a hair brush.
"You want your hair dried before you go? You're already weak enough without catching a chill too."
Harley nodded, "Yeah, I'd like that, on the chance, you know, you're not trying to stall me just so Edward can have an even better time beating me to death too." Her voice fell to hot suspicion. "No, I've already got enough on my head for releasing you. I don't want to be punished for a failed escape attempt. That would be worse than the beating I'm going to get when I tell him I let you go," she reassured as she bent down and retrieved a hair dryer from beneath the vanity.
Harley stared at her when she stood back up, "You're gonna honestly tell him?" Elisa smirked, "Yeah. Not like he wouldn't be able to deuce that without my help." Harley laughed, "I've got more respect for you, kid."
Elisa smiled and grabbed the undergarments from the pile, "Get up and let's get you dressed."
Fifteen minutes later Harley and Elisa were walking from the bathroom. Harley sighed, "Unbound, clean, and wearing new clothes." She smiled and stared down at her old boots. "You keep the rest of the get-up, I can re-make it."
Elisa was about to ask why she would do something like that, when there came a snort from behind them.
"You know, I think the Riddler's gonna love to see this. His Enigma and the hostage chatting like buddies. You weren't planning on setting her free, were ya, Boss-lady?"
"I believe what I do and don't," Elisa hissed, "is none of your damn business Hollander, unless you'd like to be punished for your assumptions."
Hollander raised his hands, "You want to let her free, you go right ahead, but I think I need something to seal my mouth." He grinned ferally. "I think you should give me something in return."
Harley glanced sidelong at Elisa, "Kill him," she whispered and nodded. Elisa returned the gesture and took a step forward. "What do you want Hollander? I don't have a lot of time."
"Well, I think I'm being a gentlemen here, and you should know how to properly appreciate someone such as myself. All I'm asking is for a little release if you catch my drift. You're not unattractive."
Mentally both women resisted the urge to scrunch up their noses at his clear meaning. Harley shook her head. Even if Elisa wasn't as strong as herself, this frost-bitten wolf thought he could overpower his sire's alpha female, did he? Oh, how amusing.
Elisa stared down at the ground. Hollander sighed. "I'll try and be gentle, that is, if you're pliant and don't fight." He took a step then another towards her. Elisa took a step back, but stopped, seemingly resigned to her fate.
The man grinned. Harley shook her head—lustful bastard, he was making her stomach churn. He touched her shoulder and then lifted her chin. That's when Harley giggled, insanely.
The man looked over Elisa's shoulder at Harley, feeling a chill down his back as he remembered her cackling from earlier. Because of his momentary distraction, before he knew it he was on the ground. Elisa had pulled a gun from her pocket and held it up to his chest. He froze.
"Does this turn you on, Hollander? How does it feel to be dominated? Have you not heard what happened to the last guy that made a pass at me? Hm," Elisa grinned maliciously. "Too bad you can't think with the right head." She pulled the trigger and Harley's laughter rang through the house as he slumped to the floor, blood butterflying across his chest.
"Why can't ya just do that to Edward?" Harley voiced through her mirth. Elisa's shoulder's fell, "Ah, it's more complicated than that." She placed the gun in her pocket and clapped her hands. "There," she smiled and turned to Harley. She led the way down the hall and opened the door. The shorter woman came to stare out and just as Elisa walked out she fell to the ground. Harley had tripped her. She gasped as the woman towered over her and placed one of her booted-feet on her chest.
"I thank you for the treatment, that's why I'm not gonna kill ya," Harley crooned, "but don't ever underestimate my intelligence again. I really wish you would have set me free long before now, but I thank you for allowing me see the ultimate truth. So goodnight, Enigma. Harley Quinn's come to play with bombs dropping…Soon, the Riddler will see what he's awakened and what you let off the leash, and you're going to give him that message."
She brought her other foot down and brutally kicked Elisa, the woman's head knocking into the door frame. The blow knocked her out instantly.
Harley stared down at her a moment, before she shook her head. That's when something close to her caught the street light. She pivoted and found a small, sleek blue cell phone. She smirked, picked it up and put it in the pocket of her fresh jeans; and turned around, beginning to walk down the street. She raised her eyes to stare at any passing sign to try and assess where she was. She frowned; she had nothing.
Her chest was aching, but she had to keep going. She was out of immediate danger and thus the adrenaline high that had buzzed her from her awakening to now was ebbing away. Her wrists were hurting, but the most immediate agony still hummed from the site of her cracked ribs. She wanted to be careful, but she couldn't dawdle. She needed to get out of the neighborhood before the Riddler returned. She prayed she was walking away from the danger and not towards it.
She needed to get to a hospital. There could be no way of knowing whether she was bleeding internally or how much she could move before her ribs might snap and puncture something like a lung. The streets however were deathly quiet, she saw no cars for the time being.
She licked her lips; she had lived through the pain. She was too close to stop now. She had to survive. She should have asked Elisa which way to go before she knocked her head into the flat she had come from. Oh well; too late for that now. She stared down at her feet, then, up at the sky. She wondered what time it was. Harley was trying to think of anything else to ignore the pain that seemed to intensify with every step she took. Wasn't Gotham suppose to be a bustling city? Where the hell were taxis?! There was no way she was an abandoned part of town—she could see the cars lined up on the sides of the roads. Was she on the wrong side of town? Where were the muggers? The rapists?
She was driven from her thoughts at the sound of a car turning onto her street. She'd take her chances. She ran into the road and stood immobile as the headlights got closer and closer. She merely stared up impassively at it. It was mere feet away when it screeched to a stop. Harley took a deep breath as she prepared herself for both the best and worst. The door opened and a man stepped from the vehicle. She felt her eyes water and her chest release a dry sob.
In the low moonlight his hair, which hung in strings around his face glowed a ghastly green. He stared up at her from a ghostly-white face. He chewed on his cheek and began walking towards her, frowning although he had a painted, crimson smile.
"The hell—Harley! You could have been killed!"
His eyes shone darkly, appearing almost black in complement to his Kohl-ringed sockets. Harley merely blinked at him, beginning to walk towards him as well.
"You think you can take me to a hospital?" She asked once she had gotten close enough to see him clearly. It was the Joker, it was really him. Her eyes shined in happiness.
He stared at her, seeing her busted lip, the gash on her forehead. She was also cradling her side. Her face was pained. What had the bastard done to her? He didn't ask. He nodded to her, "I can."
She smiled, "Thanks. Could you open the door for me too? My, uh, wrists are broken." She had begun to walk towards the car he was driving. The pain was beginning to make her feel loopy, she didn't even register that the tone the used. He had meant it to sound thoughtful as if he was really considering it—of course he'd take her to the hospital! He was surprised she didn't rise to it and walked back to the car.
Once he was back in the car with Harley buckled in the passenger seat, he started the vehicle and sped down the road, back the way she had come. When they passed by the Riddler's house, Harley grinned, but didn't look out.
The Joker remained silent. Unsure what he should say to her. He had never been in a situation where he wanted to just hold someone to him in comfort. There was a warmth radiating in his chest. Happiness, relief, and something so complicated, he couldn't explain it clearly. He had always been one to follow his instinct, but it was telling him to do so many things. He wanted to kiss her, hug her, and cry all at the same time—and all of the above would have been difficult to do while driving.
He glanced at her; she was reclining in the seat, the pain still on her face. The Riddler would pay. He knew where she had gotten every wound from. His anger was mounting so high that he couldn't speak, but within minutes he pulled up to the front of Highland Memorial Hospital. He leaned over and pushed open the door for her, preceding to unbuckle her afterwards.
She gave him a dazzling smile and jumped out. He watched her enter the hospital before driving off, back to his hideout. She was safe, his beautiful Harley was safe and breathing. He sighed, a light feeling fluttering in his chest alongside the warmth. He turned to stare as he entered an intersection and that's when he saw the dark, blue phone in the seat. It didn't look like Harley's—he'd seen hers enough to know. His curiosity was now piqued.
He reached over and grabbed it. Upon its face in the dim and passing street lamps he saw the message: "One Missed Call". He opened it, only to find it locked with a password. It wouldn't stop him.
He pulled over for a moment into a dark alley and fumbled with the phone.
First he tried all most common codes. 1234, 4567, etc. Only after those didn't work did he try more complex ones. 147* and so on until he punched in the code: 369#. The phone gave a ding and he grinned; jackpot.
He checked the message, holding it up to his ear.
"My sweet Enigma," the voice spat and the Joker grinned; he knew who this was.
"You've not been answering your phone. You better not be asleep...I'm coming over there and you better have a damn good excuse for ignoring your phone." It was the Riddler and this was his little bunny's phone. Oh, the fun. He pulled out of the alley and continued on his way. He was gonna make a certain phone call once he was home again.
The digital clock relied the hour in bright, red numbers.
3:18 AM.
Bruce lie on his side, eyes open and unseeing. He stared at the far wall, his body stiff. His thoughts were all self-degrading. He couldn't stop the regret, the worry. From behind him he heard a soft sigh and the bed shifted. He closed his eyes, but he felt a soft hand touch his shoulder.
"I know you're still awake, Bruce."
Selina's warm breath passed his ear and he shivered. Her lips kissed the side of his exposed temple. "You're brooding, aren't you?"
"I missed my chance to save her. Who knows what that bastard's doing to her now?" He whispered, opening his eyes to the dark room. "It wasn't your fault, you tried. What matters is that you'll find her, I know it. I'm going out with you next time. Thomas is old enough to be alright with just Alfred. Besides, I can't stay a normal housewife, you know that. We'll find her."
Bruce turned over and stared up at his wife, "She's fragile, Selina. She's got a sharp wit and a sharp tongue, and a stalwart attitude, but this case has been pushing her. She's becoming someone other than herself...If she isn't saved soon she's going to lose her sanity, if that moment hasn't come already."
Selina smiled softly, and her hands cupped Bruce's cheeks, "Even if she has, we can face it, Bruce, I have the utmost faith in my Batman." She leaned down and kissed him softly. He wrapped his arms around her and returned the gesture. He smiled, his nose brushing hers when he pulled away. "And I have the utmost faith in you, Kitty-cat."
She ran her fingers through his short hair, "Sleep, Bruce," she whispered. "The city's quiet for now...I know you're used to being nocturnal, but with the stakes being what are and the Joker loose, things are bound to be crazy soon. I've heard and read enough about both criminals to know Gotham's in for the most chaos it's ever seen. Was Edward Nashton's motive ever found by the way?"
Bruce closed his eyes and nodded, "Supposedly. It appears he used to be the guy in school that everyone teased. He thus decided to use his brain to gain power. He gained an ego and a few years back he proposed research into the human mind to my company and I in order to learn how to map it further. His goal was to store all the information of a single mind on a database. Not only would research in order to reach that goal take perhaps decades if not an entire century or more—which didn't bother me—but it would have been an invasion of privacy. Because of the dismissal he was a laughing stock for months, not that I wanted that and I did apologize. It appears, however, Edward holds grudges and is out to show all those who laughed at him his brain capacity. Egotistical, bipolar, and perhaps suffering from even more psychoses, he is certifiably insane, and a definite threat. He's right up the alley with Joker. He may have even been inspired by that trickster's crime spree. He's probably been planning his revenge for years now; slowly being consumed by anger until he just snapped."
Selina shook her head and snuggled closer beside Bruce, her head resting on his chest. His arms were still loosely wrapped around her. "And the poor girl he's shaped into his accomplice?"
"Elisa Rangers," Bruce asked, opening his eyes. At her nod he sighed, "She was just a simple secretary at his work. She must have-"
A knock came to his door.
"Master Bruce, Miss Selina," Alfred called, "I know you're both awake. I have received a message from Commissioner Gordon. Harleen Quinzel was just checked into Highland Memorial Hospital in North Gotham."
Bruce smiled and Selina hugged him. "How did she escape?"
"She's claiming the Riddler's henchwoman set her free and she was able to hail a ride to the hospital. She's in stable condition and the doctor's are running tests and x-rays to see the extent of the damage."
"She's alright," Selina whispered to him, "everything's gonna be alright. Now we just have to find where she was being held and storm it."
Bruce stiffened then, "It won't be that simple, you know that. The Riddler's smart. He'll find out and he'll get rid of all the evidence, but you're right. It'll be a start," he relaxed. "And that's all we can ask for." He held his wife close and kissed her lips chastely and then her forehead. Without the weight of Harleen being held against her will, he felt the effects of the stress. He was exhausted and the day was looking brighter already.
Okay, this was weird. Was this why she hadn't answered? What the hell?
Edward stood outside of the flat Harleen had just escaped from—he wasn't aware of that yet, however. He was standing, observing the prone figure of Elisa on the pavement. She had a scrape to her head, she was still breathing, but she was out like a light. He raised a brow and turned to stare at the doorway.
This was strange, unexpected, and a little annoying. He wondered how the hell she'd ended up out here and gained an uneasy feeling in his gut. He walked up to the door and pushed it open. It was unlocked—how convenient. It only took him about ten steps to find the next interesting find. Once again he was dumbfounded, and more angry. He clenched his fists and he stared down at Hollander who was now lying in a pool of his blood on the floor. He turned the man over with his foot and his assumptions were proven correct—one bullet wound to the chest.
He turned his head back towards the front door, where Elisa was still lying unconscious. He would be damn amazed if Harleen had done this. Harleen?! He took off to scale the stairs, but another oddity distracted him.
He had just reached the foot of the stairs when he turned his head to glare into the still lit bathroom that sat there. From within steam was flowing out, ghostly and light. Edward cautiously entered and took one look at the fogged up mirror and the discarded red and black clothes on the floor before growling lowly. He stomped over to the heap of cloth. These were Harleen's alright. Okay, so had Elisa given the bitch a bath, killed Hollander, and then got so drunk that she passed out in front of the house, hitting her head on the way down—that was just absurd—or had something far more treasonous happened? For her sake she'd have better not done what he was beginning to suspect. He left the bathroom and bolted up the stairs.
He loudly threw open the door to the abandoned storage room where he had held the woman. He screamed. She was gone! Her binds were uncoiled on the floor. There was no way the woman had unbound herself with broken wrists, bathed, shot Hollander, and then escaped after knocking Elisa out—well she could have knocked Elisa out, use of her wrists or not, but still! He bristled and with the calmness of a curled snake he left the room only to return minutes later dragging a chair in one hand with Elisa thrown over his shoulder.
He propped her in the chair and tied her wrists to the open sides and her ankles to the legs. Then he left again to bring another chair into the room. This one he placed across from the woman. He took a seat in it, and leaning with this elbows on his thighs watched Elisa; hell would come when she awoke. He would let her wake on her own; he intended to plan all the the fun things could do to her while he waited.
Thus an hour passed. Then she shifted, she groaned—had he had been in a better mood he may have thought it cute; may being the key word there. Then she halted all movement and her body became ram-rod still. Her eyes fluttered open. She glanced at her sides where her hands were tied. She attempted to wiggle her legs. When Edward finally caught her gaze with his own, his lips pulled into a wolfish grin.
"Good morning, Elisa."
And it was morning; the sun was just beginning to rise and the sky was fading from midnight blue to purple. Her eyes widened; yes she knew this was a bad sign. He tilted his head. "I'm sorry for your predicament," he didn't sound apologetic in the least, "but you see, we have a slight problem. It's like this, my honey bun, Dr. Quinzel seems to be gone. Her binds are just lying in the floor, her clothes are lying in the bathroom, Hollander's dead, and you were unconscious on the side-walk. This all looks very suspicious. Do you happen know anything about these events, hm?"
His tone of voice left no room for denial. He knew very well what she had done. He expected some rushed, frantic answer, but his Enigma's eyes went cold.
"I let her go," she said simply. Edward shifted his gaze and then brought it back to her. "You let her go?" His whole body went stiff. His eyes burned into her. She gasped when he leaped up. He was too angry to speak for a moment. He had only felt this amount of fury a few times in his life. His throat burned, his ears rang, his heart thudded in his chest.
"YOU LET HER GO?!" He kicked her chair over and she yelped as the impact crushed her fingers and jarred her back. She wasn't given time to recover, however. He grabbed the front of her blue blouse and pulled her cruelly upwards until she felt her arms were close to breaking from the strain against the ties. She clenched her teeth. "Tell me, you little bitch, how such an idiotic idea popped into your head. Did Harleen convince you to do it, huh? DID SHE?! Because I think her repayment was excellent. She knocked you out." He laughed heartlessly and dropped her back into the overturned chair. She hit her head rather sharply, hissing. Edward towered over her, but once the pain had passed she was back to her guarded glare.
"She never told me anything. I did this myself."
"And thus she chose to show her appreciation for your deed by leaving you in the most defenseless way possible," the Riddler laughed, though his anger was only growing. So she had thought it all up herself? "Well, she didn't kill me."
"And you think that was a mercy?" He brought his face close to hers, his voice dark with amusement. "I would say she knew I would do that job myself, slowly, so you can regret every moment of your life."
"Do your worst. I'm not ashamed of betraying you. I'm sick of you controlling me! I hate being your Enigma. I never asked for this. Why should I be punished when my only sin was seeing a man that didn't exist?!"
He snarled, "Do my worse?!" He stood straight and cackled before his foot sat atop her leg. He pressed a little against it then brought it up and stomped with all his strength.
She screamed shrilly, her back arching as the resistance of the chair against his foot snapped the wood and her tibia and fibula. The two bones burst from her leg, bleeding profusely. He raised his hands to his mouth, hiding his smirk. "Any regrets now, Elisa? Huh?! Now, maybe you'll second guess escaping yourself." She was crying and still screaming her body struggling in the pain. "You have no choice but to be controlled. You just ask for it. You're the kinda girl that's just better that way. I love controlling you, because your tears, your pain is so beautiful and addictive. You should have known better than to have ever caught my eye, you pretty little thing." He raised his foot again. "You should also know better than to incense me, but you just don't stop with your little rebellions, although this is the worst you've ever done. How much punishment can you go through?" He rested his foot against her other leg. She shook her head. "NO! Please!"
"What was that?!" He screamed. She shook her head, still crying and whimpering. "No? Oh but you really did yourself in this time...You really need to feel all the pain. I'm going to give you everything else I had for Harleen since you so nicely volunteered by setting her free. I'm not going to kill you; you're no good to me dead. Yes, you're just a tool. A pretty little doll. Both my white queen and nothing but a pawn to be used as I see fit. Now take your punishment, and do not EVER tell me what to do!" He tentatively pressed into her leg again. He then repeated the process, slamming his foot down, but a buzzing at his side caused his leg to miss its target.
He stumbled forward, Elisa sighed shakily, and Edward dug his phone from his pocket. He didn't even attempt to look at the caller I.D. "What?!" He screamed.
"Well, ouch," a teasing voice chuckled.
Edward's brows furrowed. "Who is this?"
"You mean, even you, the intelligent Riddler can't figure out who I am, now c'mon..." He trailed off and Edward's skin crawled, "Joker?" The laugh on the other end confirmed it. "You are sharp. Now listen I only called because, you see, I'm a selfish man, and I don't take well to other people damaging my property. You messed with my Harley, Eddy. You broke her wrists and bruised her ribs. And you, a man such as yourself, must understand the reparations of your choices. A man doesn't go into another's house and just start tearing up his things for the hell of it. You see," Edward heard the Joker lick his lips. He glanced at Elisa who was still whimpering at every little movement or shift in her leg. He stalked out of the room.
The Joker continued, "there's an understood 'keep your hands to yourself' policy. You just can't break what isn't yours and if you do, you must be prepared to pay the price. You, boy, you just ruined a pricey porcelain doll of mine."
Riddler should have been scared, but he was foolish—at least those that would come to know this tale would believe so. He was so full of his own superiority that he laughed, "Says the man who doesn't follow that advice himself."
"Of course," the Joker admitted, "but I'm not you, I don't follow this norm that you still cling to, and even if I did, I would say that I, unlike you, am aware of the consequences. I take actions accordingly; I can handle them, but I don't think you can. You see, Eddy, what if I took your little Enigma and gave her a beautiful make-over my style?" The silence on the line answered the question for him. "See, you understand. No one else can harm them, right? Perhaps I should better phrase my earlier declaration. A man doesn't come into my territory and and just start tearing up my possessions and damaging my property. I told you; I'm selfish, and those that mess with me must be prepared to be punished for their boldness. You've been pretty bold and you took an unwise move. At least my hits are intelligent. You're petty, she's your equal and you can't stand it! That's cold, even I don't try to murder my equal. You're a poor sportsmen you know that?"
While the Joker laughed, making that statement, Edward pulled the phone away. He stared at the screen after pressing a button. His eyes widened at the name displayed. No wonder he wasn't able to reach her before.
Elisa.
"Whining, Riddler?"
"No, why do you have Elisa's phone?"
"Does the thought that I might be watching you right now make you uncomfortable? Maybe I stormed in there and took Harley myself and took this from her."
"You're lying," Edward accused him, but hesitation was clear in his voice. What if Elisa was lying? "Am I?" The Joker chuckled. The Riddler stuttered as he replied, his eyes glancing around him. He carefully walked into the room where Elisa was and peered out the curtain-less window. "You a-are."
"You don't seem so sure of yourself. Get used to that feeling, Riddler. You bruised the queen of my house of cards. Harley left this phone with me by accident." Edward inhaled sharply. The Joker snickered. "I don't know where are you, but I will find out, don't think I won't."
"You say I'm the fool here, but I beg to differ. What man admits such a deep connection with a girl? That is just a call for trouble there."
"You don't know me at all. I love trouble. I enjoy a man thinking he can out source me. I have more connections than you; I could find you with a just a few calls, some explosions, and a couple of frightened thugs. Far more fear me. Who do you think has the balls to touch my girl? In a battle between you and I, you really think you'd win? You're a schemer, the kind of guy I love destroying; it doesn't matter that your actions are meant to cause chaos and fear and that you're illegal. You're an amateur compared to me. Like I said, I do enjoy challenges, but I would hope you would know better than to target Harley again; that'll not end well for you. You're already in trouble with me."
Edward felt his anger building. Elisa had sentenced him to this. Now he was a target of the Joker's. He growled.
"You sound like an obese bloodhound. Harley's growl is more potent than yours and its arousing besides." He laughed.
"Shut up, illusioned freak!" Edward screeched. "Come and get me. I happen to believe Harley was the best little doll I've ever gotten to break. You should have seen her face when Batman was too late to save her. I heard his screams when he realized she was gone. He had made it just a few seconds too late. I don't blame him. The riddle I gave him was the toughest yet. Her tears, her screams, the sounds of her breaking wrists, and the delicious sounds as her ribs cracked and her arm popped out of socket; every little sound I was able to treasure. I enjoyed every hour and minute of her shattering."
The Joker's voice was dark, devoid of all amusement. "Did you? Was she that fun? That just makes me imagine how much sweeter you'll be to break. My knives are feelin' a little neglected and who better than you to quench them? Hmmm, I wonder how long it'll be until I find you? Well you enjoy yourself till then."
The line went dead with the Joker laughing, not in amusement, but fury. Edward threw the phone on the ground and rushed back into the room with Elisa. She raised her head, but within seconds she was whimpering. He was untying her binds. She bit her lip against the tide of pain his release of her leg brought.
He dragged her from the chair, ignoring her screams. He didn't speak to her. He laughed as he pressed mercilessly against her injured leg, until with a spurt of blood and a deafening shriek and crack, he had reset the bone.
"Ouch," he twittered. "Your little stunt has cost me more than you're aware. You let Harleen get to the Joker. He's coming. It's all your fault! YOUR FAULT!"
"You beat her! You broke her! You're the one to blame," she whispered. Edward was wrapping her leg with a handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket; he paused, just finishing when she spoke. He tilted his head. His controlled voice was chilling. "What did I tell you about talking back to me, Elisa? How many times I have given you this talk?" He shook his head. He stood up and grabbed her arms and drug her towards the fireplace in the room. She howled in both agony and fright. He threw her beside the mantle and pounced. He turned her over and with little trouble ripped her shirt open. He stared down at the creamy expanse of her back.
"Where should I put it," he whispered his hand gently tracing her spine. He stood up and Enigma refused to watch him as he placed a prod in the fire. He let it heat while Enigma cowered. "You let her go, the Joker found her, and now he's threatening my life. What does he see in that little bitch? I wonder what would happen if I could take him out. I'll show him that despite my fresh introduction to crime that the younger generation is more adapted to fight." He chuckled and leaned back beside Elisa. "So where should I brand you?" He craned his head. "Here," he kissed her shoulder, "here," he trailed down her back, "no...here..." he kissed her shoulder blade once again. His hands, which were protected from the prod by his gloves grabbed it and pulled the smoldering, red end out of the flames. He placed it against her skin.
She screamed as it traced her flesh. She could smell it burning. "STOP! Please! Stop...Oh God...stop," and he pressed it harder against her back. She screamed more, shrieks filling the room. But he wouldn't stop, even after he had finished branding her with a scarlet question mark and discarded the prod carelessly. He attacked her kicking and punching. To his amazement she fought back, but his earlier treatment had weakened her. He intensified his hits.
It was the first time he had ever beaten her to the point that she passed out. His chest was heaving and his laughter was high, in-human, and deranged. It could only last so long, though. He was soon picking up Elisa and carrying her from the room and placing her in the back of his van, in the floor. Then he returned to the house.
When he emerged again, the place was being engulfed by flames. Now nothing would be found. Of course the police, the Joker, and Batman would know that that had been his hide-out, but barely anything would be left. And he already knew where to go next.
The second floor collapsed as he pulled away, disappearing into the early morning, to make plans for what would come from him next.
Days and weeks ran together for her while she rested in the hospital. Her mind had calmed down in the time. Her new found boldness and vitality rested just beneath the surface, just awaiting to be called forth again.
Harley had been held in the hospital until she was recovered enough to be able to function again—and by that point she was suffering from cabin fever so much that as soon as Pam came to take her away she basically jumped from the bed and hugged her friend like an excited child that was told they were going to the zoo or fair. She had been delivered to a well-sized, fully stocked flat. It was a big change from her apartment.
Two-bedrooms, one bathroom, an impressive kitchen, and wide living room, the place was beautiful and perfect. It also had a study. The best thing was that all her possessions had been moved. She would be safe here. Pam had to come visit her often for a week until Harley insisted she get back to her own life, then it was just Harley and the empty flat. It was no more empty than her apartment, but something—no someone—was missing. She knew he had not been caught, but what was even more interesting was his silence. The Joker had been sighted, yes, but in the month it had taken for Harley to recover he had not blown up any buildings or caused any mass destruction.
Harley missed him, wanted to see him. He was free. She often felt her heart alight at that thought. Her life was empty without seeing him every day, but she tried to act normal, although Pam noticed. She had accepted Harley's explanation of still recovering from the trauma of her ordeal. She was set to receive counseling if her mood did not improve. She had never lied to Pam before, but what would the woman have said if Harley had told her the truth: she wanted to see and better yet make-out with a psychotic clown who was rumored to hold no empathy for anyone—that was love, though. Her wait would last three weeks after her release from the hospital.
She was carrying a bag of groceries when she opened her apartment door. She locked it back as she always did, balancing her paper bag on her hip, black braces visible on her wrists, they had yet to heal completely. She turned around and the first thing she saw was the bouquet of crimson and ivory roses that rested on the small table that sat just inside her kitchen. She blinked, placed her bag on the table, and touched the flowers softly.
She smiled and plucked the visible card from amongst them.
Sorry I couldn't give this to ya in the hospital. Security was really strict around you, babe. I hope you're feeling better. I hope my spunky little doc isn't too frazzled. Where would the fun be in that? Who knows maybe I'll be seeing ya soon.
Love,
Jack
That made the grin wider. She placed it back in the bouquet, not perturbed that he had entered her house without her permission. She was curious, nonetheless, at just how he had managed to get in. With him, there was no telling.
She smelled the flowers. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she had felt this much joy, but at the same time, she was a little disheartened. She knew he wasn't still there. She shook her head, remembering the last part of his card and began to remove her groceries from her bag to put them away.
She hoped she would be seeing him soon; very soon.
I'm still alive. Sorry for the such the long wait. My beta went on vacation, I got busy with trying to keep my GPA in college, and life has just basically been in full-throttle for both my beta and I. Winter Break is coming up, however, and hopefully that will mean more on schedule updates. Thanks for the patience, and I hope this chapter was worth it.
-Amber