Wally had thought that there would have been more ceremony in storming Miss. Frances' house. There really wasn't. Not when he was in the company of two grief-stricken vigilantes. Bruce even allowed Barry to follow him into Gotham in costume, though seeing the two of them decked out in full uniform made Wally feel a bit left out.

Dick had been kind enough not to point out Wally's appearance, though Wally knew that had been mostly due to the fact that Dick was trained to not ask any unnecessary questions. Bruce hated it when he did that, Wally knew, and the two of them were supposed to be the most efficient partnership out of the entire League. Dick had probably known that Wally would have been unable to give him an answer. Fact of the matter was, there were no cuts or bruises on Wally's face, not a spec of dirt in his hair, nor a hair astray, despite having died in an explosion. But weirder still was the soft, pure white cotton sweatpants and soft, pure white cotton shirt of the same material that he was dressed in, which he never recalled owning, and which fit him perfectly. He had the itching suspicion that he was dressed in the clothing that he was buried in, which on one hand he was thankful to Barry for not forcing him to wear a suit for all of eternity, while on the other hand he felt awkward because he was traipsing around the Gotham night in pyjamas.

Wally had also thought that Bruce, at least as Batman, was a little bit more about stealth. Apparently, that didn't apply for when his baby bird literally fell out of the nest, because the man wasted no time in kicking down Miss. Frances' door. In fact, Barry had been the one to go, "Hey, maybe we should scout out the-" right before Bruce's batboot collided with the cheap wood.

There was no immediate sound of a woman shrieking, so it was probably okay. Really, Wally couldn't wait until Batman picked her up by the collar of her shirt and demanded that she get Dick out of the insane asylum, because she had given Wally the creeps ever since the first time that he had joined Dick in that shrink's room.

Bruce thundered into the hall, and then into the kitchen, though he knocked nothing over and his footsteps were actually surprisingly light so maybe thundering wasn't the right word. Barry was faster, but more cautious. He zipped into the living room, looking with suspicion at the overturned couch cushions. Wally stood right between the two of them, glancing back and forth for whichever one of them found something first. There was no point in searching himself when he couldn't report his findings to the living superheroes.

Wally didn't have to wait long. Only a minute after everyone had gotten into their positions, Bruce and Barry spoke up at the same time.

"Blood," Bruce growled like a vampiric Clint Eastwood.

"Found a nose," Barry chirped bemusedly like a bad joke at a kid's birthday party.

Wally didn't know who to pay attention to more. On one hand, finding blood in someone's kitchen was definitely a cause for concern. On the other, it wasn't often that people lost their noses in their living rooms. It seemed that Bruce agreed with the latter, because with a flow of his cape that was remarkably alike Superman, he emerged beside Barry. Wally was soon to follow, and quick to give an unnecessary remark. "That's not a real nose," he said, though Bruce didn't mirror his words because unlike Wally, Bruce was not so much a fan of stating the obvious.

Instead, Bruce asked, "Why is that a significant find?" as he opened his belt and took out two glass slides and a syringe, sounding just like Wally's freshman Biology teacher whom he had no lost love for. Barry squeezed the 'nose', a large red foam ball, between his thumb and pointer finger, blinking as it gave off an obnoxious honk. He rolled the ball so that the hole at the bottom slipped over his thumb, and jiggled it with his thumb for good measure.

Bruce was already back in the kitchen, kneeling beside the oven where Wally could see a smear of red on its handle. He was applying the presumed blood to one of the glass slides with his syringe and adding the other slide on top so that the liquid was sandwiched. He slipped it back into his belt.

"It's a clown nose," Barry elaborated helpfully.

"Get to the point, Flash," replied Bruce.

"Batman, we are in the home of a supposedly neat and orderly psychiatrist. Except the place is completely trashed, there's blood in the kitchen and a clown nose in the annihilated living room. She has no kids, and I don't think there's been a circus in town for a good while. Isn't it a bit suspicious?" Barry said, not taking his eyes off of the nose that he was bobbing around on his finger. Bruce paused for a moment, his stance large and imposing in the kitchen doorway.

"If you're trying to say that the Joker was here, the Joker doesn't wear a clown nose," he responded.

"But doesn't he have a bunch of weird tricks up his sleeve - literally?" Barry insisted. He tore his eyes away from the foam ball in order to take a good look at the overturned couch and started to push it over. Wally, with a frown on his face, stopped watching him and instead started strolling through the kitchen, as if it would tell him something that the World's Greatest Detective had been unable to translate. There was the large thunk of the couch legs hitting the floor right side up, and then Barry's appreciative 'aha!'. "And what do you have it?" asked Barry rhetorically. "A Joker card. I may be an out-of-towner, but-"

He was cut off as Bruce suddenly surged forward and yanked the Joker card from his hands. After a brief examination, he added the card to one of his bottomless pouches. Bruce was heading out the window before Barry could protest. "Wait, where to?" he called as Bruce's grappling hook shot out.

"Batcave. I need to test if the blood belongs to Miss. Frances," he replied.

"And if it does?"

"Then we find the Joker and get her back," and then the Bat was gone.

Barry snorted. "And I'm the one for heroic one-liners?" he mumbled, before streaking out the door and onto the streets.

Wally sighed as he was left alone. It would be at least a few minutes before one of the two superheroes got to the cave, and Wally was unwilling to be by his lonesome in the lair of the Dark Knight. Still, the longer the seconds stretched by where Wally entertained himself by walking down Miss. Frances' hall, the more goosebumps Wally imagined he could feel. He quickly decided that potential kidnapping crime scenes were more creepy than caves with life sized T-rex models and disappeared.

He really was a laughable excuse for a ghost.

When he arrived, Wally didn't immediately go to the cave. Instead, he popped up inside of the manor, where he followed Alfred around and amused himself by mirroring the elderly man's actions like Peter Pan's shadow until a little device in Alfred's suit pocket declared that Barry had entered through the front entrance of the cave. Wally appeared there as Alfred headed down the stairs.

"Master Barry," Alfred greeted politely with a glass of water and multiple energy bars on a tray. Wally suspected that he kept a backup supply of energy bars in the pockets of his apron for occasions when Barry popped in. Barry took the refreshments gratefully.

"Hey, Alfred," Barry said, a frown etched into his eyebrows.

Alfred set the tray down on a clean marble table beside the Batcomputer before regarding Barry with a careful look. "May I ask what's troubling you?"

Barry didn't answer immediately. He was looking towards the waterfall that was the cave's main entrance and exit, expectant of Bruce at any second. Alfred waited patiently while Barry took a deep breath. "Do you believe in ghosts?" Barry blurted.

Alfred was unphased. "I can't say I do, or else I'd have a hard time being a butler for such a large manor," he replied smoothly.

"Me neither," Barry agreed, downing the water in a gulp. Alfred wordlessly took the glass from his hand. "But I do believe in Wally."

Hearing the words from Barry's mouth, Wally felt ridiculous for ever having doubted it.

"Then that's that. There shouldn't be anything for you to trouble yourself over," answered Alfred, and Wally found that he liked the butler for more than just his cookies.

Barry eyed him critically. "Do you even know what's going on?"

Alfred offered him a wry smile. "Not particularly, but news will reach me eventually. Right now is the mission. I'll wait until later for the briefing."

Barry nodded his head wisely, before breaking the mood with the crack of a grin. "You really are Batman's butler."

"Was there ever any doubt?"

It wasn't long until the Batmobile had sped smoothly to a stop in front of the cave's main room. Wally hadn't even heard it approaching. "Since when did the Batmobile convert to electric power?" Barry asked as Bruce jumped from the driver's seat. He offered no answer, though it was obvious that Barry wasn't expecting one. With the click of a remote lying beside the large desktop dominating the room, a metal wall slid down, revealing an area that was no doubt a laboratory. Bruce disappeared inside so quickly that Barry had to use his superspeed in order to catch up.

Meanwhile, Wally continued his entertaining activity as Alfred's shadow. He had decided that he would take up a silent career as the elderly butler's sidekick by the time that the wall slid open again and Barry burst out. The Flash didn't just stop there, though. There was no pause from the metahuman as he rushed from the cave.

"You've been here five whole minutes," Alfred told Bruce as the man jumped back into the Batmobile. Bruce didn't answer that, either.

"There was salt on a Joker's card with trace elements of sulphate, magnesium, calcium, potassium, bicarbonate, and smaller quantities of others that were indistinguishable. Table salt has been processed to remove trace elements such as those, and instead include additives," Bruce offered in way of explanation.

"Sea salt? Is that significant?" Alfred asked.

"Very."

"Wait, where are you going?" Wally exclaimed frantically as the engine of the car started up. He ran in front of the vehicle as if that would stop it, and was slightly offended when Bruce ran him over in order to follow Barry through the waterfall. "I don't have a driver's license! Or a car! Or a body!" he shouted after the man.

That was when things got weird. Truthfully, things had gotten weird long before then and that was just things being normal, but Wally's standards for normal hadn't yet included being a ghost, so he was still a bit slow in adjusting. When Bruce had completely disappeared from sight, Alfred stepped forward from where he had stood watching in order to pick up the glass slides that had fallen from Bruce's fingers. Only one slide remained intact, the other was shattered, so Wally figured that Alfred was probably going to find a broom. The elderly man stood.

In the exact same spot as Wally.

Wally found nothing about his vision to be changed, so for a millisecond, he didn't realise that anything had happened. But suits were uncomfortable, and caves were cold, and Alfred was in a cold cave wearing a suit, so the sudden rush of being filled with those particular sensations had Wally looking to his hands in panic.

The skin on his hands was shiny, glinting with the light of the cave, stretched over his knuckles and bunched in his palms. Just like Alfred's. Jolted with the illusion of adrenaline, Wally sprang backwards, falling to the cave ground that scraped against his white pyjamas without dirtying them. Staring ahead, he could see the stiff back of the tall butler, who spun around as if to stare back at Wally, only his eyes darted around without spotting him. There was a pause of silence permeated with the silent confusion of a butler that should have been retired and the frightened pants of a ghost.

"Ghosts, he said?" Alfred breathed to himself with a little nod. "I wouldn't be entirely shocked."

Wally didn't get up. He lay there, staring off towards the waterfall until Alfred got back with his broom and leisurely began sweeping. But Wally had an idea injected into his head and if he didn't go through with it right then, he would be stuck there until he did, because he didn't have the slightest clue as for where else to go.

He cautiously mirrored Alfred's position, just as he had done earlier, but that time, he took a step forward and melded with the man. And it was shocking, indeed. As himself, Wally couldn't feel the temperature, nor the slight breeze that was always present in the cave, nor the rustle of the fabric of his clothes. To be suddenly bombarded by all of that was almost overwhelming, but Wally had made sure to mentally prepare himself and was fast to act, patting down his new pockets for something akin to a cell phone. He had to make it quick because he had no idea how long he would be able to stay in the state that he was, there had to be a reason that there wasn't some sort of manual, so the second that his (Alfred's?) fingers closed around the cool sleek surface of something rectangular, he yanked it out. It was an iPhone, no doubt the newest, though Wally didn't know if any newer model had just been created, and it was locked.

In a moment's decision, he jumped back as he had done before in order to get out of Alfred's body, and he did fall to the floor just as the last time, except when he fell he was still in Alfred's suit. He didn't know how much Alfred's body would appreciate the harsh treatment and resolved to not try that again. Instead, he ran to the Batcomputer, half crawling as he stumbled in his haste, and grabbed the first sticky note and pen that he could find.

Wally stared at the message he had written for an amazed moment, relishing for a second how the side of the pen dug into his finger due to the way that he held it. But then he squeezed his eyes shut and mentally chanted to be let out, all of his muscles tensed, all of his willpower exerted, and before he knew it, he was literally shoved away by some unseen force. When Wally, stumbling but still standing, examined Alfred, he saw that Alfred's body was tense with his eyes squeezed tightly, too, and he had the strangest notion that perhaps Alfred had been the one to force him out.

Breath held in anticipation, Wally watched as Alfred gave a bewildered analysation of the note in his hands.

"'Ask Batman where he went,'" Alfred read, voice remarkably blunt. Without looking around and with only the slightest hint of hesitation, Alfred grabbed his phone from the desk, where Wally had put it down, smoothly unlocked it, and put it up to his ear. "Master Batman, would you mind if you let me know where you're off to this time?" The entire conversation couldn't have lasted a minute. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, Alfred stared down at the note again. "The Flash is at the police department speaking with Commissioner Gordon. Batman is at the docks."

Wally didn't know what Alfred did after that, because in the next second, he was at the docks.

Nothing in the sky was visible, not even the clouds. For a city so shrouded in darkness, it was surprisingly bright, and the light pollution blinded Wally's eyes to anything above or even below, because he was standing at the very end of a shipping dock right in front of a large nameless ship, and the water reminded him of sluggish oil.

There was movement on the ship beside Wally, and that was odd because Wally didn't think anyone wanted to be alone in a dark ship so late at night. It was a little less odd when the lights on the lower deck flickered on. There were ropes and planks of wood scattered all about Wally's feet, too. Wally didn't know what the hours for ship constructors in Gotham were, but by the wood and nails and cranes with steel and sloppy white paint blotting out the ship's name, at least the people on board probably weren't shady criminals.

Well, then again, it was Gotham. He was both in awe and a bit concerned that situations like where Wally was standing right then were normally the situations that his best friend usually worked. It was unnerving and creepy, the silence of the place and the mystery of it all. Wally had always preferred to fight crime during the day, particularly in the sunny atmosphere of Central City.

Wally began to make his way off the dock and onto solid ground, where walls and towers of boxes and crates were making a new city of their own. His (clean, new, probably really expensive, why didn't he have shoes like them when he was alive?) sneakers made no sound or touch against the wood of the dock because, like with all unnatural ground that Wally would go right through, he hovered just a centimeter or so above it. It was disappointing that he couldn't hover more, because being able to fly would have been pretty cool.

In front of the boxes (or, more accurately, in the middle of the boxes and crates) was a warehouse. Not an abandoned one, thankfully (Wally was pretty much done with cliches), or at least it didn't look very abandoned. In fact, the lights inside were on, and there were voices coming from within, though Wally couldn't hear quite what they said. Before he could explore further, however, Barry finally appeared, skidding on the gravel and almost crashing into one of the precariously teetering crates.

"Wow, that wouldn't have been good," the man in yellow breathed in relief. Wally snorted, because Barry's tendency to talk to himself would probably never go away. Barry touched his right earpiece. "The Commissioner said that he can't spare any men, there's some sort of drug bust happening across the district," he paused then and frowned. "If you knew that, why'd you make me ask?" then, "Pretty useless keeping somebody informed if they can't do anything. Where are you, anyway? Your echolocating butt isn't any help when it isn't here. I can't agree that finding a bit of dried sea salt on a Joker card automatically means a clown is at some shady dock, but this does looks promising."

A minute passed before Batman jumped down soundlessly behind Barry from the roof of a neighbouring warehouse, and when Barry jumped as if a fire had been lit beneath his feet, Wally was nostalgically reminded of Dick and himself. "What the hell happened to your gigantic car?" Barry hissed when he had recovered.

"I can't park the Batmobile in the parking lot," replied Bruce in his Batman growl.

"I don't see why not. It's what they're there for."

Bruce didn't grace Barry with an answer. Instead, he motioned for silence and began scanning the area with a patience that neither Barry nor Wally had. He also took much longer with the scouting and examining of the immediate area than Barry or Wally ever had, and Barry had opened his mouth, probably to tell Bruce to get on with it, when Bruce began making hand signals. Barry blinked in bemusement. "Sorry, I don't speak bat," he said bluntly.

Bruce didn't make any visible facial expression. "Joker's MO points to the warehouse. It's likeliest that he's there, especially with all of the voices. He likes to put on a show. That's for me. You head for the ship, run every person there out and put them on Front Street."

"And then I'm helping you," Barry added. At Bruce's silent disapproval, he continued. "I didn't come all this way and do all this waiting around to piggyback a bunch of possible delinquent teenagers who were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I came all this way and did all this waiting around to help you out and get Dick back."

"There won't be enough time," Bruce insisted.

"Then you get the civilians and I take the Joker. He won't be expecting a guy with super speed, he'll be expecting you," refuted Barry.

"You don't know the Joker like I do," said Bruce with a tone of finality, and then he was off like a shadow.

Barry huffed irritably. "Seriously, with the one-liners. He could be in a movie. He's already famous."

Wally didn't stick around to hear more. Instead, he promptly attempted following Bruce. As much as he loved his uncle, he yearned for where the action was. He had to scout around on foot, considering he didn't know where he was supposed to teleport to, but finding Bruce was easy enough when Wally didn't have to hide himself at the same time.

It also meant that he could just walk into the middle of the warehouse and see what was going on before Bruce had the chance. Bruce was outside of the warehouse, right below a window. Last Wally checked, he had dug into his utility belt and produced a fancy looking pen, which ended up being a fancy looking laser as it silently burned away the seams of the window, though Wally was at a loss as to why Bruce couldn't just open it. Bruce had used the suctions on his gloves to prevent the window from falling and shattering when Wally took it upon himself to walk through the wall.

He frowned.

There were boxes and there were crates, as was expected, and there were men scattered about, as was expected. One of the men was asleep in a plastic chair in the corner, as was expected, two men were at the two main doors, as was expected, and there was a group of men in the middle talking, as was expected. But they were all men. That wasn't as expected. There wasn't a single woman, let alone the specific kidnapped woman the superheroed company of three were there for. There was no clown. And, in the middle of the room, the talking group of men were split into two sides, arguing.

"Yeah? And where's the big man?" one guy from the left side was saying.

"You want the boss guy, have yours get his coward ass in the open, first," said another one furthest on the right.

Someone else beside him, still on the right side, irritably declared, "take it or leave it."

"How d'we know yer not kiddin' us?" a left man said. "A ship, eh? Sounds like a set up."

"Don't joke. We wouldn't sink a perfectly good ship for your asses. Honour on our word and all that, right?"

"More like honour on your dough. Bunch of motherfuckers you are."

"That's no way to treat your host."

"Host? What the fuck, you own the fucking city now?"

"No, they just own the whole damn docks, ain't that right?"

"Do we have a deal or not? I'm not going to waste my time."

Wally spun around, intending to go back to Bruce and give him some sort of heads up, anything, because he didn't think they were in the right place, but the glass was already out of the window and Bruce was nowhere to be seen.

That was, until the man dropped onto one of the guys on the right side, the one who had been talking the most and who Wally was going to nickname Mr. Superior just because of his posh attitude. Bruce instantly had a knife to his throat in the middle of room, surrounded by all of the other men. Before anyone could give anything but a shout of alarm, Bruce had tightened his grip and waved the position for everyone to see. "Where's the Joker?" he growled to no one in particular.

"Who the fuck-" Mr. Superior began as he struggled, until Bruce kicked his feet out from under him and the knife scraped his throat.

"I don't like to repeat myself," Bruce said monotonously.

Mr. Superior panted as he tried to breathe without cutting his skin. "J-Joker?" he gasped. "Haven't seen no Joker. Have nothin' to do with that clown! We're just finishing up s-some last minute work at the shipping docks. Got our load outside, ready f-for the morning. E-extra hours' pay and all that, swear."

Bruce took one obvious look around the room, at all the guns pointed straight at him, and tightened his grip. "I don't like liars, either."

One guy on the left abruptly dropped his gun. "Fuck that, he's not my guy," he said in the ringing silence as he made a run for the door on the left side of the room. The two guards at that door followed suit. Nobody stopped them. The man in the chair was still sleeping, with him counting seven men remaining, only two on the left side and only four on the right side that were awake, including the man being held hostage by the billionaire in the bat costume.

One guy on the right, directly behind Bruce, moved to press his gun against the back of his mask. "Let him go or I'll blow your fuckin' brains out," he said, his words punctuated by the nudge of the gun's muzzle.

Bruce easily moved his head to the side, switching his position with Mr. Superior so that the crook of his elbow was choking him instead of the knife, and kicked back. The man who had threatened him was hit square in the gut and crumbled, his gun firing a single shot over Bruce's shoulder. Then the rest of the guns started going off.

Bruce turned so to shield Mr. Superior, his back getting the brunt of the ammo, and Wally took that moment to remark with relief that Bruce wasn't some sort of superhuman ninja who could dodge every bullet ever fired at him, he just had a lot of high tech bullet proof gear. It wasn't surprising at all.

"Get Flash!" Bruce shouted, and while the men paid no mind to what Bruce had to say as the superhero tried balancing both his hostage and taking down the others without getting said hostage shot, Wally puzzled over Bruce's strange request.

Until Wally realised that Bruce was talking to him.

"What?" he shouted back, as if Bruce could hear him. "How do you expect me to do that?"

Clearly, Bruce didn't care how Wally expected to do that, and Wally took that moment to reflect on a few facts:

First of all, Barry had superspeed, so he should have joined Bruce by then. There wasn't exactly a party going on in that ship.

Second of all, Joker was at the docks. But out of the two places occupied at the docks, he wasn't in the warehouse. Which meant that he was probably on the ship.

And third of all, Barry was on that ship.

Wally started running before he really thought about much else, proven by the fact that he didn't even remember that he could teleport until he was already outside. He took advantage of that ability, and seconds later he reappeared in front of the infamous Joker, who was terrifying and cruel and getting his hair brushed.

"So, let me get this straight," Barry said from behind Wally, who glanced quickly to note that the speedster was stuck inside of a cage made of red lasers. "You have a harem now?"

Wally had been expecting many scenarios. Finding his uncle relatively unharmed while the Joker (who was chubbier around the middle than he had imagined, huh) sat in a worn desk chair with his feet propped on a barrel of toxic waste, getting his hair brushed by a curvy grinning lady in a clown costume complete with bells and all, was not one of them. The Joker's grin didn't drop an inch, though the presumably psychopathic lady beside him didn't seem so uneffected. The corners of her mouth drooped and her eyebrows furrowed. "Just me, right Mister J?" Her voice was high pitched, heavily accented, and unnerving. It struck a chord with Wally, and not a pleasant one.

The Joker only cackled and smoothly got to his feet, wagging his finger and shaking his head in a way that kind of reminded Wally of a dog. A rabid dog. The lady opened her fingers lazily and the brush dropped to the floor with a clatter. "No, no, no, this is Harley," he said, like that was supposed to be at all significant. Harley smiled dopily. "Harley and I were just havin' a bit a fun, you see. These boxes are important. Important up here, I mean. But down there, not so much! Down in the ocean, well, they're quite useless. Can't light a wet string and all that," Joker proclaimed loudly and, as if on cue, Harley scurried behind him to pick up a crate, display it proudly, and slip it casually through the circular window that was on the side of the ship.

"All those funny men arguin' and arguin' while there ain't nothin' to argue 'bout! Then they'll go runnin' and runnin' in circles, won't they, Mister J?" Harley said dreamily.

"Right-o. And then they'll blame each other and do all sortsa nasty things. Why, I wonder how come Batsy always chases after me when I don't think I've killed nobody, yet these funny men Harley talks about always shoot each other to smithereens! Maybe I'll ask."

Barry just looked overwhelmed. "You guys look so funny that I can't even take you seriously," he deadpanned.

"Ah-ah-ah, you're not from around here, are ya?" Joker declared, getting up close and personal with the cage. He didn't look the least bit offended. Wally wished that he was solid enough to push the Joker's face into the lasers. "That's no fun. You're too easy! Call Batsy." When Barry only lifted his eyebrows, the Joker flicked his wrist. "Go on. Call him."

Barry slowly tapped his earpiece. "Uh, Batman? Yeah, Joker wants you." There was a moment of silence until Barry lifted his head again and addressed the Joker. "He says he's kind of busy."

Joker sighed loudly and slumped back into his desk chair, waving Harley over. With a bounce, she picked up her brush and resumed brushing his hair. "Tell him I'll wait."

"He says he'll wait," Barry echoed through the earpiece.

Wally didn't really know what to do but wait with them. The silence was more than a bit awkward, though maybe that was just for him and Barry, because the Joker and Harley seemed to be enjoying themselves plenty as the Joker's hair was cared for and Harley giggled at nothing in particular.

Then, with unnecessary theatrics, the wooden latch at the top of the stairs for the ship's bottom level was kicked through, and Batman emerged in all of his glory, his cape and bat ears looking like swiss cheese. "Batsy!" Joker cried with delight and a clap. Harley squeaked as the Joker stood so abruptly that her brush was knocked from her hands. "How nice of you to join us."

The psychopath was unfazed as he was suddenly manhandled by the collar of his shirt. "Hehehe, Batsy, no need to be so rough!"

"Where is she?"

"I'd tell you, if I knew who you were talking about," the Joker grinned.

"You know who."

"Ah, but what if I don't know who, and I tell you the location of the wrong who?"

"Jesus Christ," Barry swore. "Miss. Frances, the psychiatrist! Where is she?"

There was a beat of total silence, which threw Wally off guard. He was a bit jealous of his uncle. He wanted to yell at the Joker, too.

Then, the Joker suddenly started cackling. It was a moderate amount at first, but then it just kept increasing in volume and intensity until Bruce simply dropped the crazy man because the man was laughing so hard that he sounded as if he might have started choking on his saliva. Joker crumbled to the floor. "Oh, how awkward!" he exclaimed with glee.

"What?" Bruce demanded. He kicked the Joker so that the man was cackling on his stomach, and pressed a heavy boot on his back. He leaned his weight into that foot, causing the Joker to let off a groan and give a gasp for air.

"What a coincidence!"

"What?"

Harley peered from over the desk chair, looking a little conflicted about the boot on the Joker's back. She cocked her head as she directed her wide eyes at Bruce, and then smiled. "Hiya, I'm Harley!"

Bruce gave her no attention. She pouted.

"Hi, Harley," the Joker panted as the pressure on his back was increased. Harley beamed again.

"Hiya, Mister J!"

"Batsy, give the nice lady some courtesy," he gasped.

Slowly, Bruce turned his head to face Harley. She bounced right up to him. "You must be Batman. Nice to meetcha!"

"Do you know where she is?"

"Where's who?" Harley quipped innocently.

"Miss. Frances," Bruce growled.

"Duh!" Harley beamed. Bruce froze, before promptly stepping off of the Joker and giving Harley his full attention. "After all, the name's Harley Quinn!"

"Where is she?"

Joker tisked, shaking his head as he tried to recover his breath while slumped on the floor. "Always back to business. Bo-oring," he drawled.

"Nono," Harley said with the sweeping of her head, her smile a little drooped in frustration. "You don't understand. I'm Harleen Quinzel!" When no one gave any indication of comprehension, she huffed and crossed her arms. "Harleen Frances Quinzel."

The only thing Wally could really think at that moment was:

No wonder Dick went insane.

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT SINCE I STARTED THIS FIC.

You know, I've been really surprised that there hasn't been more Miss. Frances hate. You guys are all hating on Bruce. I mean, you do realise that the person who put Dick in that asylum is Miss. Frances, right? AND GUESS WHAT: SHE'S NOT ACTUALLY AN ORIGINAL CHARACTER.

HA.

Also, yes, Wally just went into the body of an 80-something year old man. Freaky.

Hope you all enjoyed. c: