"Why do stealth missions always involve crawling through vents?" asked Harley, crawling behind Bruce as they made their way through the ventilation system of Wayne Enterprises. Bruce gritted his teeth and tried to ignore her babbling – she hadn't shut up since they had left the lair.
"And why does every building even have human-sized vents?" she continued. "I mean, air doesn't take up that much space. You could make 'em smaller and not run the risk of having people sneak through 'em. Safer, and probably more cost effective. But I guess a billionaire don't have to worry about things like that. Must be nice."
Bruce continued to ignore her. "It's really awkward having you in my puddin's body, y'know," she said. "I mean, normally I wouldn't complain about crawling along behind Mr. J and getting to stare at his ass, but it just feels wrong when I know that it temporarily belongs to someone else."
"For God's sake, Harley, just keep your eyes down!" snapped Bruce. "And please stop talking – these vents aren't sound-proof!"
"Y'know, for a playboy billionaire, you ain't very fun," replied Harley. "You remind me more of Batsy. He's a grump like you."
"You'd be grumpy too if you woke up in someone else's body," retorted Bruce.
"Not in puddin's body, I wouldn't!" giggled Harley. "I'd play with it all day long! You must be kinda annoyed that you gotta go back to your own, inferior body after finding out what it's like to have the body of a real man, huh, Brucie?"
"Yeah, I'll be real disappointed not to look like a notorious psychopath," muttered Bruce. "Not to mention a perpetual freak."
"Mr. J is not a freak!" snapped Harley. "He's a genius! You're just too dumb to see it, just like most of Gotham!"
"Yeah, that must be it," sighed Bruce. "Y'know, since he's such a genius, I'm sure he's spent the day in my body using my vast wealth to solve world hunger and cure cancer…"
"No joke in that, Brucie," interrupted Harley. "Mr. J doesn't use his genius on things that ain't funny. People didn't ask Einstein to go paint the Sistine Chapel, did they? Geniuses have gotta go with their specialty."
"And the Joker's specialty is what, causing chaos and hurting people?" demanded Bruce. "Because he's remarkably good at that."
"Gotta use the talents you're given, Bruce," replied Harley, shrugging. "Anyway, it's just a joke."
"Can you explain how it's funny?" asked Bruce.
"Nope," retorted Harley, shaking her head. "Mr. J told me never to explain jokes. You either get it or you don't. And a dumb celebrity like you can't possibly get it. Anyway, I don't see you using your vast wealth to solve world hunger or cure cancer."
"I don't claim to be a genius," retorted Bruce. "But I do the best I can to help the world in my own way…"
"Yeah, swanning around Europe and throwing fancy parties really helps people," interrupted Harley, rolling her eyes.
"They're charity balls!" snapped Bruce. "And I have to keep up some appearances!"
"Well, if you really wanted to make a difference, you wouldn't," retorted Harley. "You'd tell people you don't care what the world thinks – you ain't wasting your money no more on idle frivolities. You're devoting your life and your wealth entirely to supporting the less fortunate, rather than just giving token handouts to keep up appearances and make yourself look good. In a lotta ways, I think you're a worse crook than all of us in Arkham put together. At least we're honest. You steal from people and then pretend to give back in some elaborate charade. It's the biggest con game of all."
"Harley, you don't know anything about my life!" snapped Bruce, rounding on her. "Neither do the gossip rags! Believe me, I do a lot to try to help the people of this city! More than anyone knows!"
He started crawling again. "Anyway, the day I care what someone like you thinks about me is the day I lose my mind."
"Why? You think I'm an idiot?" she asked. "Think you can just dismiss my opinion as that of a dumb blonde? I used to be a doctor, y'know, Brucie. I ain't stupid."
"Yeah, you got your medical degree by being so smart," muttered Bruce under his breath.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, bristling.
"Well, you know the rumor I heard," said Bruce. "And the rumor that everyone believes is that you slept with your teachers to get good grades. As someone who's now using her feminine wiles to attach herself to a powerful man, and who was stupid enough to fall for his games, it doesn't seem out of character…"
With a shriek, Harley leapt onto him, sending them both suddenly crashing out of the grate in the floor of the vent and onto the table in the boardroom of Wayne Enterprises. "It's a lie!" she screamed, furiously, beating him mercilessly. "A lie! Take it back, take it back, take it back! I won't hear lies like that outta Mr. J's beautiful mouth! I got my degree fair and square, and I've never slept with anyone else but Mr. J! That's disgusting propaganda set up by the Bat just to dismiss me as an unintelligent woman, because he can't accept that a smart girl could be a criminal! Well, I ain't the idiot here, Brucie – that's you, you selfish, stupid, spoiled rich boy! You ain't never had to work for anything a day in your life – had everything handed to you on a silver platter! I got a full scholarship to college by working my ass off, not by showing my ass off! That's also how I got my degree! And when you get your own pathetic little body back, I expect a full public apology and retraction of that disgusting rumor! I know you ain't ever heard of faithfulness, and you don't understand love, flitting from one floozy to the next, but that don't mean that everyone does that! Some of us have standards! And while normally beating the crap outta Mr. J would turn me on, I ain't turned on at all right now! I'm just a whole lotta pissed off!"
She punched him once more and then climbed off him. Bruce had been futilely trying to deflect her blows, since his attention was mostly focused on recognizing with growing horror where they had landed, and the shocked faces of everyone staring at them.
"We need to go…" he muttered, struggling to his feet, but suddenly Lucius pressed the button to call security and an alarm blared through the building.
Bruce swore, racing toward the door. "Don't you dare leave me behind!" shrieked Harley, running after him. "I ain't letting you outta my sight in Mr. J's body – I don't trust you with it!"
Bruce's heart fell as he saw security guards running toward them – nothing for it, he thought, taking a deep breath and rushing them.
Harley beat him to it, suddenly flying over his head and kicking one in the face. She grabbed the weapon from another, slamming the gun across his nose and breaking it. Another tried to punch her, but she grabbed his arm and flipped him over her shoulder.
"Office is this way!" shouted Bruce, racing down the corridor and throwing open the door to his office. It was empty.
He rounded on the secretary. "Where's Mr. Wayne?" he demanded.
"He just left to go home," replied the secretary. "Hope he's gone to find a good lawyer too, because he'll need it for the sexual harassment lawsuit I'm filing against him. Kinda wish he was here to be kidnapped – he deserves it after today."
Bruce let out a cry of rage, racing back down the corridor and down the stairs. "Where's Mr. J?" shrieked Harley, turning suddenly to race after him.
"Outside!" shouted Bruce, skidding to a halt as another group of security guards charged up the stairs toward them. Harley couldn't take them all. Nothing for it, he thought grimly. He was going to have to fight.
Suddenly, Harley slammed into him, knocking him sideways and through the glass wall out of the building. Bruce felt himself falling and glanced down at the several hundred feet below them, wondering why exactly Harley had chosen suicide over letting them be captured by security. He saw her throw something as the ground came up closer and closer, and Bruce braced for impact.
But instead of colliding with the street, his body hit something soft and rubbery and bounced gently to a stop. He opened his eyes to see that they had landed on a giant, inflatable whoopie cushion that Harley had brought from the lair.
"C'mon!" she shrieked, not even taking a moment to recover but grabbing Bruce and dragging him toward the front of the building. "I see you!"
Bruce saw it too – himself climbing into his limo. It was a very surreal experience. "Puddin'!" screamed Harley. "Puddin', wait!"
"Harley?" said Joker, looking up and beaming. "Hi, pumpkin pie! Boy, it's been a weird day, huh?" he chuckled.
"Yeah, and you gotta come home and stop it!" shrieked Harley. "I can't deal with Brucie anymore! He's awful! Worse than the Bat!"
"Aw, Daddy would love to come home, pooh, but he's got some stuff to do before then," said Joker, patting her head. "So just do your best to put up with him for a little longer, for my sake. It'll be worth it for the gag, trust me!"
"But puddin'…" began Harley.
"Gotta go now, sweets – see you soon!" he chuckled, slamming the car door shut. "Bye, Brucie!" he called, waving at Bruce. "Gotta say, it's a blast being you!" he giggled, lighting up a cigar.
"Don't you dare smoke in my body!" shouted Bruce, but Joker had already told Alfred to drive, and with a smile and a wave and a puff of smoke, Joker was gone.
Harley glared after him. "No!" she screamed. "No, I ain't gonna play along anymore! I don't care what kinda gag he's got planned – it ain't worth the crap I've gone through today! We gotta get to your house, Bruce!"
"We can't possibly get to Wayne Manor without getting arrested!" snapped Bruce. "Especially since the police have probably been called on us…"
"God, you are so defeatist!" snapped Harley. "You think I don't have any experience blasting cops?!" she demanded, pulling out her gun.
"I'm not letting you kill any of them!" snapped Bruce.
Harley made a face. "Aw, take all the fun outta life!" she muttered, glancing down at the road. Then she ripped the manhole cover off the sewer drain.
"C'mon," she growled. "Before they see us."
Bruce sighed heavily, but saw no alternative that didn't result in the potential harm of innocents. He followed her down into the sewer, replacing the manhole cover. "Sewers run everywhere," said Harley, flicking out a flashlight. "We just have to figure out which one of these leads us to Wayne Manor. Could take a while. Better hope Mr. J decides not to go out later, and just confines his damage to your home. There should be plenty of things to distract him in the home of a billionaire."
Bruce followed her down the tunnels, fervently hoping that one of those things was not the Batcave.