Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, DC does.
A/N: Lady Cocoa: Don't worry. Sooner or later, the plot will get going. ;)
ClownPrincessofCrime: Yeah…there is something off about Larry. I really hope you don't think he's a Gary Stu (*screams in terror*).
And about meeting Batsy…maybe. :D
In the middle of the night, the Joker and the others came back. While the Joker was completely fine, Clubs was covered with bruises and some deep cuts, and Ace was too tired to see a beaten-up Spades getting dragged off by Kenny. Rocco, on the other hand, was his usual, composed self, and Bonnie just stayed in the shadows, watching as Harley giggled and purred at something.
As Harley began to melt on the floor, the Joker came further into the moonlight, and his baggy eyes were turning red.
"I said SHUT UP!" he shouted. Harley responded by stomping on the ground as two whimpers came from the dark.
Tired, Harley moaned, "But the babies wanted—"
"I don't CARE," sneered the Joker. All the dame kept whining about was that she couldn't have any "mother/daughter bonding" with the kid, and she tried to use getting those idiotic animals as an excuse to have it. Of course, when he didn't, Harley just started screaming and crying like a toddler, and—even when she came home to the kid—she wouldn't shut up about it! Even though the Joker thought of himself as being generous to her by going to the zoo, the woman just took it for granted and kept whining.
The Joker looked to Harley, who was rolling on the ground with those slobbering and nuzzling creatures.
You know, there are some days where I really want to strangle the life out of her, he thought. Of course, this has to be one of those days.
Harley rubbed the animals' head as the Joker fumed.
"Don't worry, sweeties. Daddy's just a little grouchy today," Harley cooed. "Awww…good boys! Come snuggle up with Mama!"
The animals wheezed and licked her. The Joker snorted at the affection, and he turned to lecture his men.
Abruptly, however, the animals stopped and turned quiet. Their heads craned, for the creatures' noses picked up an unfamiliar scent. They leaped off Harley, growling and gradually stepping forward to the source.
"You're done for the day, boys," the boss said, clapping. "Go on, shoo!"
Clubs glowered. As he walked to the door, Kenny released Spades' legs. The man pushed Clubs out-of-the-way, sprinting out of the open doors to his prized car.
As thunder boomed in the background, somebody screamed in agony outside, and everyone knew it was Kenny looking at his wrecked car.
Rocco looked to the unconscious Spades on the floor. Glancing to the open door, he gruffed and picked up Spades' legs, lugging him off. Eventually, Larry also came in to help, carrying the upper part of Spades' body. It was only a minute before the three were out of the building, along with the exhausted Ace.
The door shut, and the sniffing animals sprung at their prey. A figure with red hair yelped as the animals pounded and hooted and clawed at her with sharp ferocity. She tried in vain to push them off, but one of the red-eyed animals was posed to go for her neck.
"BABIES!"
The animals came at a standstill, and the girl took shallow breaths beneath them. The storm that previously bellowed outside went silent.
The two huge weights were immediately lifted off Bonnie, and the animals rasped as gloved hands caught their collars. The holder of their collars hurled them to their panicked owner's feet, and they landed with a cry.
Squeaking, Harley rushed over to them, petting them. Still, her eyebrows furrowed at them for the disaster they could have caused.
"Aw, boys, come on!" she scolded, in a baby-talk voice. "I was telling ya that the little Annie-looking girl was our friend! Now, I'm sorry if tired, ole Mistah J threw ya over here, but—"
As Harley went on, Bonnie's legs scrambled in an effort to stand up. Panting, the girl was nearly halfway off the floor before her body was plucked up.
Having already been jumped by animals, Bonnie deliriously thought that she was being attacked, and she mercilessly attempted to break out of her captor's grip. She was kicking and trying to wave her arms out of the man's hold, but she stopped cold when she heard his laughter.
"It's me, kid," the man said carelessly.
At the sound of her boss' voice from behind, Bonnie's face reddened before she was finally put down by him. There was an uncomfortable silence.
Slapping the humiliated girl on the back, the Joker sauntered to the animals, and his spidery hands went for the hyenas' heads, spreading them back and forth. While it seemed like the man was petting them, he was really scraping and digging into their skin, and the two animals were whimpering in self-pity as he did.
Once the animals lay in submission on the ground, the Joker stepped towards Harley. He gave her a long glare before he leaned near her ear, whispering something. Bonnie could not tell what he was saying, but she could almost see Harley sweat underneath her makeup when he stopped whispering.
Still, the woman bounced up, seemingly enthusiastic.
"Okay!" she exclaimed, before looking to Bonnie. "Sorry about these two, Bon! I don't know what's gotten into 'em!"
The hyenas sniveled. Bonnie's lips thinned, yet her eyes were sympathetic.
"This is our Bud and Lou," explained Harley. "Our first babies."
First babies? Bonnie thought, observing the room warily. Did she have more pets?
Bonnie looked at the hyenas' eyes. They were glassy and criss-cross, but their heads turned to their male owner, who was passing by them.
Finally looking up, the ripped-up girl rubbed her elbows when the Joker stopped before her. He gave her an unidentified gaze.
"Get upstairs, kid," he muttered indifferently. Without a second thought, Bonnie left in the darkness.
As she walked upstairs, the Joker yelled, "And clean yourself up! You're a mess!"
Electricity charged through the sky. The hyenas jolted as Harley pulled their collars.
The Joker smiled at the sight. "Eh, bring 'em outside, Harls."
"BUT PUDDIN'—"
"You can go, too, if you'd like."
Harley went mute. The Joker, whose hands were folded behind his back, was still as the woman pressed her lips together.
Slowly looking to her babies, she gently tugged at their collars as they slogged to the door.
"And don't call me Puddin'," the man sneered.
Harley just flinched, and she closed the loud door as quickly as she opened it.
Now alone, the Joker looked to his planning table, which was much messier than it was before. Blueprints were all over the place, and the packages with the stolen furniture inside were flipped over. The crayon-colored folders on the table were also open, and the Joker's eyes flashed when he saw particular papers on the floor.
He walked over to the table. One folder, scrawled with "HA, HA" everywhere, was open to a particular blueprint.
Now that wouldn't do.
"Tut, tut," he muttered darkly. Lar's early to the surprise.
A soaked, tarnished car swerved on the road. The driver cursed and shouted as he pressed a blonde toupee on his head. He didn't know where he was heading, but he needed a drink—quickly. It was the only way he could ignore all the hyena crud on the car trunk, along with those ripped up back seats…
On the next turn, Kenny cursed again. Where was the bar? It was almost like it was a mile away or something!
He groaned. Bars should have been on every street corner, if you asked him! But no...
There was a shrill clanking on the back of Kenny's car. It faded away, but it was like the noise bounced up and down. It almost sounded like the boss' special crowbar.
Kenny laughed. It would have been funny if it was. Stealing one of the Joker's favorite possessions...now that was priceless. But maybe it was something else...something else in the back of he car…
Kenny's hand stiffened on the wheel. Was it the license plate? It had been going off two of its hinges for a while...
Oh, of course not! Kenny snorted at the thought. His girl fixed it up three days ago!
Then, he snarled. Or maybe she didn't, since she hated him so much. Kenny sometimes wondered how they got married in the first place.
Must've been drunk when he got that million dollar ring, he thought. Even if it was the same one he got his last wife, who slapped him around EVERY DAY…
As he turned again, Kenny spat on the recent graffiti (thanks a bunch, boss) on the inside of his car. He'd clean it later.
Next turn…
The wind picked up. Kenny's wig almost flew away. He seized it, not bothering to put it back on. The street lanterns glowed unsteadily.
Next left…
Kenny jumped at a sudden shadow in the night, but it vanished.
Next right…Oh, there it is. He pulled over, feeling drunk even without the drinks.
Kenny's lips buzzed when he stepped out of the car. Slamming the door, he thought he was lucky that he didn't miss the shady bar, since it was tucked away near an alley with only one sign to advertise its existence.
The man peered in through the window. There were candles or lanterns inside, but he couldn't see anything else.
It would have to do. Kenny tramped to the grey door, and he almost busted the doorknob when he barged inside. A bell near the door rang to further signify his arrival, and the man quickly looked around.
While there was an orange tint throughout the bar, much of the place was fairly dark. The middle of it was barren, with the tables and chairs pushed to the side, and the actual bar at the far end was the only exception to the blandness. The television flashed footage of football players trying to destroy each other, and the compartments for the bottles beamed a yellow and orange. There were some provocative posters and quotes above them, but menus and broken glasses were all over on the chestnut floors, which were being mopped by an old employee.
The brunette bartender wiped half of the long table, which only had two customers seated with their backs turned. One was a shaggy-haired boy whose face was planted on the mahogany bar, complete with the visible drool dangling off the teen's mouth and seeping into his hoodie. The other customer was a middle-aged man whose back was perfectly straight, and his one hand was holding a glass of champagne that could have easily been poured over the teenager's head. His other hand with gripping onto a book with a shiny bookmark, which glared right at Kenny.
Unfazed, Kenny whistled, and he strutted to the seat next to the older man. Once he sat down, he looked up before his whistle dropped an octave when the bartender—who looked like she came out of the 80s—leaned into Kenny's personal space.
Yup, he would never understand why he had a wife.
"Whaddaya want to drink?" The bartender had a cutesy Southern voice, but her eyes were seductive. Kenny flicked the imaginary fly off his shoulder, and he smiled at the woman. For whatever reason, the man next to him scowled.
"Two beers will do. Don't care which," said Kenny, getting out whatever money he had on him. Looking at him, the woman shrugged, and she strolled to get it. However, she quickly stopped when the man next to Kenny raised his hand.
"Excuse me, miss…?" This guy had some high-class accent, but it sounded very familiar.
Oh, it doesn't matter, Brent, Kenny thought. You're never going to see this guy again anyway.
The bartender beamed. "Layla."
"Er…Layla, can I ask you why he is still here?" The man pointed at the unconscious boy.
Layla exhaled, blowing a curl out her hair.
"He said his brother was gonna pick him up," she explained. "About fifteen minutes ago."
With that, she ran to wherever the beers were. She came back as quickly as she left, and she slid the cans to Kenny. The man next to him pushed up his glasses by the bridge.
"Anything else?" she asked. Kenny leaned onto the table.
"No," he said, passing his money to her. Layla took it, and—fanning herself with the money—she only put a dollar in the cash register.
As she walked away, Kenny made a lazy "cheers" to the bookworm, but he was too invested in his novel to care.
Kenny glowered. Was no one polite to him?
He waved his hand in front of the guy, saying, "Hello?"
The man turned his head. Kenny could barely see his dark pupils behind the spectacles, which had an even yellow glare.
"Sorry. I'm not in the mood for conversation," said the man. He held the glass near his mouth. His tone was whip-like, yet it sounded awkwardly genuine. It reminded him of those nerds that Kenny used to drop-kick in grade school, only all grown-up. Puh.
Uncaring, Kenny took another chug of the beer, and another. Time seemed to slip away once he got a few more cans, but the bartender just kept giving. He remembered the shade of the bookworm leaving, but a shadow of a man entered before he passed out.
What did I just do?
He saw the obscurity of his vision more than the darkness of the night. His ears felt as if they were drowning underwater, and he saw a couple of stars at the edge of his sight. A few more stars dotted into his vision, until the blackness finally became a dark navy. His ears went in and out until he was able to hear the flapping of pigeons' wings and the wind above him.
Kenny was about to get up, but he was already up. In fact, he was floating, almost like he was in one of those drug-induced fantasies.
The man moaned. What did I do last night? Well, a kid lit his hair on fire—no, that was last week.
The boss threatening to throw him over a ledge? Kenny shook his head. Nope, two weeks ago.
Oh…how about that geek running to the restroom? Kenny laughed. Wait, that was high school.
But that incident seemed like what just happened before...whenever that was.
Oh, that's right, the bar!
Of course! That guy with the book left and some other guy walked in. The pretty bartender said they were about to close up, but then she started yelling about something before everything faded away.
Kenny grunted. Did he get into a bar fight or something? He did have a tendency of getting into those at least once a week, so it was no wonder he felt a growing, stinging sensation in his head.
He was in a jail cell or the hospital, for sure. Or in an out-of-body experience. That would have been funny. Real funny.
But he felt weightless, and it wasn't starting to feel like the good kind of weightless. It was like he was going to fall at any moment, but something untrustworthy was holding him up, somehow. Like a spirit—or a demon.
He breathed, but his eyes bulged out of his sockets when tried. He couldn't. He couldn't breathe!
Kenny's hands went up to his neck, but something held him. Something was choking him.
It almost didn't feel like a person was holding him up, but the grip felt like leathery steel. Fingers were pressing into his neck, and—as Kenny struggled—something told him that he needed to look down.
He did, and a agonized, hoarse cry leaped out of his throat.
There was hard pavement below—by five stories. The cars below were like little ants that wanted to eat him.
Kenny screamed again, and his hands thrashed against the hand that held him above.
"Let…go…" Sweat flooded over Kenny's chin.
The voice, which could only be noted as dreaded and firm, said, "I will, as long as you answer my questions."
"A-anything!"
"Where. Is. Your. Boss?"
It was twenty minutes later. In the warehouse, it was at its quietest.
Then, the life-size, half-oval window turned to shards, and a figure broke through.
Upstairs, one of the inhabitants bolted upward. The second inhabitant was outside, being a blanket for her pets. The third inhabitant was prepared.
"Ooh," said the Joker, "we have a guest."