A/N: I haven't forgotten that as funny as the Joker can be, he's also a cold-blooded psychopath capable of horrific violence. Happy Halloween! I don't own anything.

The Joker And Harley Quinn: The Married Life

Chapter 8: "Whiplash"

Many months had passed ever since the Joker had kidnapped those orphans. In that time, only one of the original band had survived, a poor little waif named Timmy. Cold, starving, and, fortunately, slightly smarter than the other orphans. You had to be smart to survive when the Joker forcibly recruited you. As it is, he only had three of his original limbs left and four missing teeth. Depending on the Joker's current mood, he might be losing his life very shortly.

…

The Joker slapped the donkey. "STOP BRAYING AT ME!" Pulling out a shotgun, he blew the poor beast's brains out. "Timothy, you may enter. I trust you bring me good news?"

Timmy shivered, opening the door of the Joker's office. In truth, it was merely a small room in the house with a computer and copious stacks of paper precariously perched everywhere. Today brought the addition of rotting skunk corpses, fresh donkeys brains, and the still cooling corpse of "Boffo", the prize-winning donkey at some kind of contest.

Trembling, he held up a newspaper with his remaining arm. "Sir, there's a small article in the back. Someone is copying you."

Joker stopped stomping on the deceased donkey's diaphragm. "...Leave me, Timothy. I have some work to do."

Grateful to still be alive, Timmy scuttled out of the room.

...

7:29 pm…

Janice was known as a weasel in the mob's circles. She could get you information, obviously for a price, no matter if you were a cop, a Bat-member, or a criminal. Still, sometimes the job could surprise her. Out of the shadows, the Joker crept up.

"H-hello, Mr. Joker. What can I do for you?" she whispered, before coughing slightly.

The Joker smiled. It looked like he had digestive issues. "Don't worry, Ms. Janice. No harm will come to you. I just want to know if you've heard of this miscreant?" He held out the paper and pointed to the article.

Janice gulped and tried to get rid of the rasp in her voice. "Yes. I have. He came to me earlier, wanting to know about some appropriate places to hide out. I told him that I would have some information later."

The Joker nodded politely. "Could you please tell him that the closed restaurant is available?" Without waiting for a response, he handed her a thick wad of bills and ran away.

Janice shuddered. Whoever the copycat was, she really didn't want to be in their shoes.

…

Midnight…

The copycat confidently strode in, carrying a box of dynamite. He slapped at his knee and stumbled slightly. "Darn mosquitos." He set the box down and luxuriously stretched out on a crate.

The Joker stepped out of the shadows, pointing a gun at the man's temple. "Good evening, Mr. Brand. Don't move."

Mr. Brand whimpered. "What do you want with me? How do you know my name?"

The Joker grinned. "You're new to this town, aren't you? Everyone who tries to copy me has either gone to jail or died. Learn the nature of a town before you try to work it, buddy boy. Do your research. I did mine. Your name is Jon Brand. You thought you would come here and impersonate various criminals, make some cash, and skip town. Maybe try it again. You've done it before."

Jon trembled. The Joker continued to circle him, lightly tossing the gun. "You're free to go. Get out of my sight. Go find another town, one without heroes."

Jon attempted to comply, but failed. "I-I can't move! What did you do to me? How can I talk?"

Joker fired the gun into the air. A minute pellet hit the chair. "A special variation of my venom, condensed into a pellet. It paralyzes the body, leaving the victim unable to move their body. They can speak, unless I cut out their tongue. That sting in your kneecap? A pellet, not a mosquito."

The Joker whirled around, pointing across the room. "You should also know that people can be bribed. I told Janice to send you here. If you did your research, you would know that this restaurant used to be run by the Forte's. Some gangsters killed them. The bodies were removed, but not the tools."

He picked up a knife, twirling it around. "Oh, and you can still feel pain." He lightly poked Brand, sending rivulets of blood down his neck. Brand shook, tears streaming down his face.

The Joker went to the far edge of the kitchen and rummaged through a dusty box. "I've always wondered about the process of murder by cheese grater. Let's find out together, shall we?"

The poor man's screams rang long into the night, punctuated by random comments from the Joker about the grater's rustiness.

THE END

A/N: That was very different from my usual goofy style!