The door to his cell opened, and Arthur instantly shot out of bed, his instincts warning him something was wrong. It was still nighttime, so no one should be waking him up yet.
"Wakey, wakey, puddin," a shrill, feminine voice called out in the dark. The lights suddenly flicked on, and Arthur blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust.
What he saw standing in front of him made him do a double-take.
He wasn't sure what he was looking at first. It was a woman, but she was wearing a black tutu and a black and red sequined top with matching tights. But that wasn't what took him by surprise. It was the paint coating her face, which, except for her lips and eyes, was all white.
"Dr. Quinzel..." It sounded more like a question than a statement, and it was. If it weren't for the familiar physician's coat and the blonde hair, Arthur wouldn't have the faintest idea who this was.
"The one and only!" She waltzed inside the cell. "But you can call me Harley now! It sounds less stuffy than Dr. Quinzel, don't ya think?"
Arthur didn't immediately respond; still trying to make sense of everything. A part of him wondered if he was still asleep dreaming. Because that would be the only explanation for why Dr. Quinzel was here without her glasses, wearing clown makeup and talking with a strong high-pitched Brooklyn accent.
She seemed to sense his hesitation since she stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand.
"We need to go, Mr. F!" She looked up at him, her eyes large with worry. "We don't have much time before the guards notice something's the matter!"
As soon as she said those words, the alarms started to go off in the building and everything around them was doused in red light. This snapped Arthur out of his daze, and he squeezed her hand. The skin where theirs touched tingled as if her fingers were shooting out sparks onto his.
"I hope you brought a gun," he told her.
Her mouth widened into a red grin. "As if I'd forget!"
From behind her back, she pulled out a gun she had been hiding in her waistline and handed it to him.
Arthur cackled before they both ran out of the cell, hand-in-hand.
They didn't get a few feet before a guard came into view, blocking their path.
"Stop!" He pointed a gun at them. Before he could pull the trigger, Arthur had already raised the gun and fired a bullet into the man's skull.
Harley cheered as the guard's brains and blood splattered all over the nearby wall. "Bullseye!"
He couldn't help but smirk at her as a rush of adrenaline came over him. This was the most fun he'd had in months!
And it was only going to get better.
They took off again, laughing and shouting maniacally down the hall. Arthur kept firing the gun at any guard who dared to approach them. Even Harley managed to defend herself, dodging their attacks with her impressive cartwheels and flips. She even managed to wrap her legs around one of the guards and flip him over.
"Where were you hiding this side of you, doc?" Arthur still wasn't used to calling her Harley even though she no longer resembled the professional woman he once knew with her dyed pigtails and fluffy tutu.
"You like it?" Harley beamed up at him. "Better than that boring, old square, ain't it?"
Arthur tilted his head at her and smirked. Had she really done all this for him? No one had ever put on a costume and changed their appearance for him.
No one except the Bat.
"I love it," he breathed before cupping her face gently.
Harley let out a delighted squeal and leaned into his touch when she suddenly drew back and shouted, "Look out, Mr. F!"
He turned just in time to see a burly guard rushing at him. But before he could feel the impact, Harley pushed him aside and acted as a wall between him and the guard. Arthur expected her to be tackled to the ground, but she just kept surprising him. Instead of getting knocked down, Harley wrapped her body around the guard and stole the gun from his holster before sliding off of him.
"You ain't going to hurt him anymore." Harley shot every bullet into the confused guard until there were none left. Arthur could only stare slack-jawed as Harley tossed the gun aside. It hit the tile with a loud clang.
"C'mon!" Harley took his hand again and tugged him towards the exit. "We're almost outta here!"
They both dashed out of the hospital, continuing to cheer and holler over the sounds of the blaring alarms. When they reached the outside, Arthur inhaled a big whiff of the night air and outstretched his arms.
"Gotham City, it is good to be back!"
Meanwhile, Harley had shed her white coat and taken off to grab her car. A few minutes later, she pulled up to the curb in a topless convertible and said, "Hop in, Mr. F! We've got a city waiting to be turned inside out!"
Arthur didn't need to be told twice. He jumped inside the passenger's seat where he found a bag on the floor.
"What's this?" He hoisted the bag into his lap. Inside, were clothes and makeup and hair color. Examining the clothes, he noticed how similar they were to what he wore in his Joker getup.
Harley didn't take her eyes off the road as she answered him. "I figured you'd be more comfortable out of that jumpsuit and in something more of your style. I brought the makeup and hair dye. The whole shebang!"
"Right..." Arthur saw how these clothes were his exact size. He wondered how she possibly knew that, but didn't question it any further. "What else you got in here?"
"Oh!" Harleen drummed her fingers against the wheel. "I bought a bunch of paint! Well, maybe more like 'borrowed.' Do ya know why?"
Arthur gave an exaggerated shrug. "I haven't the faintest idea."
"There's this charity event at the art museum. Something stupid like raising money for some orphans or something like that," she said nonchalantly. "And ya know what we're going to do?"
"What?" He gripped the edge of his seat in anticipation.
"We're gonna crash it!" Harley exclaimed. "We'll literally paint this town red!"
As she pressed down on the gas pedal, the car jolted forward as well as Arthur's heart. Excitement raced through his veins just like they were racing down Gotham's streets. He had never felt so alive than at this moment. Or maybe he just couldn't remember the last time he did.
Quickly applying the face makeup, Arthur could practically do this in his sleep. He had become quite an expert at it by now. As he applied the diamonds to his eyelids, he realized Harley had also added the same shape to her eyelids. Only hers were done in black and red paint instead of blue like his.
She really had an eye for detail.
After he finished, Arthur leaned his head out the side of the car and gazed at the garland wrapped around the buildings and the soft hues of the red and green illuminated inside them. He had been stuck in that damn hospital for so long that he forgot it was almost Christmas.
"Isn't it romantic?" Harley sighed.
"Yeah, I guess it is." Christmas had been one of Arthur's favorite times of the year when he was a child. It was one of the few happy memories he had from his childhood. But as he grew up, the magic had been lost. Now, he didn't think much about it. It was a painful reminder that he had no one to spend this time with while other families got together.
Well, maybe that was about to change...
"You know, Harley." He glanced at her, finally getting her new name right. "It's going to be a year since we met."
The car came to a jerky halt as Harley did the absolute worst parallel parking of all time. "Wait! You're right! I can't believe you remembered, Mr. F!"
"Of course, I remembered." He smiled at her. "How could I forget meeting someone as wonderful as you?"
Harley's lips curved into a bashful grin. "Aw, that's real sweet. I still remember it like it was yesterday. The big bad Bat brought you into Arkham, practically dragging you around! And you had a broken wrist, which he caused, by the way!"
She suddenly cupped the side of his face. "But I told you that you were safe now. And I still mean that. I won't let anyone hurt you anymore."
Arthur felt his face begin to burn despite the bitter cold. But it was a good feeling. It was a warm feeling like drinking hot chocolate on a cold winter's night. He closed the distance between them as he brought his own hand to her cheek and caressed it. He needed to feel more of her. But would she recoil from him? Like so many other people did?
Like the Bat did?
No, Harley did not shudder or withdraw from him. Instead, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.
In his almost five decades of life, he had never been kissed. He always longed for his lips to touch another's, thinking it would be something magical. Like something out of a movie.
And it was. It was everything he had hoped for.
As if the moment couldn't get any better, a bright light went up across Gotham's skyline.
The symbol of a bat lit up the darkness, and Arthur nearly felt his heart burst out of his chest. His eyes locked onto it as he continued to kiss Harley. It was all he could focus on, not the woman who was currently in front of him.
"We don't have much time." Arthur drew back from her, which caused her to whine. "I'll finish getting ready while you get the paint from the trunk."
Harley nodded her head excitedly. "Sounds good!"
The Bat couldn't see him dressed like this. He needed to look perfect. Pulling out a can of temporary hair color spray from the bag, he sprayed it all over his hair.
Now, all he needed was his suit.
After dressing himself, he stepped out of the car like a brand new man.
"Whoa!" Harley gaped at him, clutching a bag of cans in her arms as well as a baseball bat.
"You like what you see?" He did a little spin for her.
"Oh yeah!" She smirked at him. "You're gonna be the best-looking guy at this joint! Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent can eat their hearts out!"
Arthur's face lit up like the light still burning in the sky. He would be seeing the Bat very soon, and it made him giddy just to think about it. What would the Bat say about his new little ally? Would he be impressed that Arthur was able to land such a beautiful and distinguished woman?
Feeling like he was on top of the world, he grabbed the bag from Harley in one hand and her hand in the other. Nothing could bring him down. He was unstoppable.
"Let's show these people some real entertainment!" Arthur tugged Harley up the steps that led to the art museum. She squealed and ran after him, waving her bat around.
With a loud bang, they kicked the doors open. There was a security guard at the entrance, but Harley quickly took care of that problem. She hit him over the head with her bat before removing his gun from his holster.
"Here ya go!" She tossed the gun over to Arthur, who caught it with ease. After tucking it behind his back, he unzipped the bag and took out a can of spray paint.
"I can't believe this is what's passing for art these days." Arthur curled his lip in disgust at a painting of what looked like something a toddler would make. It was just a bunch of paint splashed over a canvas.
"I know, right?" Harley came up beside him. "My two-year-old nephew could've done better! Van Gogh and Da Vinci must be rolling in their graves!"
Cackling, Arthur began to spray the paint over the priceless art piece. Harley joined in his laughter, grabbing her own spray can and tagging a nearby statue.
Together, they sprayed colorful doodles all over the art. It looked juvenile, like what a kid would draw in their school textbook.
Harley had just finished writing the words "ha, ha, ha," on the wall when two security guards came running in.
"You two!" One of the guards pointed his gun at Harley. But before he could fire it, Arthur had taken out his gun and shot it four times.
Two bullets for each guard.
They slumped to the ground, their blood resembling some of the paint coating the walls.
"Thank you, Mr. F!" There was a lovestruck gleam in Harley's eyes. "Ya saved me!"
"It's no problem, my dear." He took a hold of her hand and kissed it. "I think we're done here. Let's go see what else we can find."
Harley took one of the officer's guns and followed after Arthur, glancing down at the fallen guards and sticking her tongue out at them.
Sure enough, they soon found a crowd of people headed in their direction. They had heard the gunshots from the front of the building and wanted to see the commotion.
Arthur stopped them in their tracks, waving the gun around. "Ah, ah, ah. Where do you all think you're going?"
"Back inside!" Harley ordered with a gesture of her own gun. "We ain't finished yet! We still gotta lot of orphans we gotta feed!"
Both Arthur and Harley exchanged a sly glance before bursting out into obnoxious laughter. They directed the crowd back into the room they had just come out of, which happened to have several tables and chairs set up for what was obviously an auction.
"Ooh?" Arthur marveled at the items set out. "This looks expensive!"
He picked up an ancient-looking dagger and carefully examined it, touching the tip of the blade. It was real. And it was sharp.
"What will the starting bid be?" Harley called from the front of the room. "Fifty thousand?"
No one said anything. They just returned to their seats, crestfallen and trembling.
"Fifty thousand it is!" Harley tucked her gun inside her tutu and swung her bat around. "Fifty-five, fifty-five! Am I hearing fifty-five thousand?"
"Please," a woman closest to Harley begged. "Just let us go."
Harley whined. "Aw, but we're just getting started! Ya can't leave yet!"
An older man towards the back jumped to his feet, his chair nearly falling over from the force. "This is ridiculous! The police will be here any minute! You two clowns are getting your asses dragged back to Arkham!"
A deep frown appeared on Harley's painted mouth. Holding her bat behind her back, she started for the man, who was still standing.
But Arthur was already on it.
"Is that any way to speak to a lady?" He approached the man, his own smile long since gone.
The man turned his aggression on Arthur. "I don't give a shit who you are!"
Before anyone could react, there was an earsplitting bang. Pieces of the man's brains had splattered on the people behind him. Immediately, everyone started screaming and tried to flee, but Harley hit her bat on the table, silencing them.
"Everyone sit down!" Harley yelled at the top of her lungs. They slowly did, never taking their eyes off her or Arthur, who was gripping the still-smoking gun.
Once everyone took their seats and Arthur put away the gun, a smile returned to Harley's face. "Good, now where were we? Oh yeah! Fifty-five thousand? Going once, going twice!"
"Sold," a gruff voice said from the back.
Arthur whipped his head in the direction of the voice, and it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
It was him. The Bat.
He was finally here!
And he had even made a little joke!
"You sure know how to keep a guy waiting," Arthur breathed out. "You're just in time!"
He wanted to run to him. It took every ounce of willpower not to. Instead, he forced his legs to march toward the Bat in a jerky sort of movement.
The Bat remained still, hardly moving a muscle. Arthur questioned why he wasn't bracing himself or stalking right up to him, even panicking that this might be another dream.
Oh, if only it would've been.
At least he would've been spared the knowledge of what happened next.
"Robin." The Bat tilted his head slightly to the side. "Get these people out of here."
Arthur was just feet away from the Bat when he saw another figure emerge from behind him. It was a smaller, shorter figure. Wearing a dark green and red armored suit with a black mask over his face.
"On it!" The figure easily pushed past Arthur, who was too stunned to react. By the time he realized just what he was looking at, the Bat was already on him. Arthur narrowly avoided a hard punch to the cheek as he shuffled backward.
Time had slowed down at that moment. Arthur could barely process what was happening, the sound of his heart hammering in his chest and blood rushing to his ears.
Who the fuck was this kid? And why was he with the Bat?
Was this his son? No, the age gap between them wasn't that much. Not to be his dad. He would've had to been about the rugrat's age when he supposedly had him.
Oh, shit. Had the Bat adopted this boy? That would be the only explanation of where he came from.
How did Arthur miss this development? He always paid close attention to what the Bat did. He could kick himself for missing something so important like this!
Arthur didn't even realize he had broken out into a run, but not towards the Bat like he originally planned. He needed to get away from here.
Away from him.
As he headed toward the exit, he came face-to-face with the person he wanted nothing to do with.
The child.
"Get the hell away from me, you snot-nosed brat!" Arthur growled, but the young teenager didn't budge. Instead, he raised an eyebrow as he looked Arthur up and down.
"I've heard a lot about you," he said. "But I have to say, for being a clown, you're not very funny. Trust me, I've been around a lot of clowns and you're probably the worst one I've ever seen."
A knife to the heart wouldn't have cut as deep as those words.
Still clenching the dagger in his hand, Arthur charged at the teen with an animalistic cry. "I'll show you something fucking hilarious when I cut you ear to ear!"
A large hand came from behind and yanked Arthur's arm back before he could reach the boy.
Arthur glanced at the figure behind him, and it was none other than the Bat.
"How could you bring another person into this?!" Arthur demanded as he attempted to wrestle his hand free. "This was between you and me!"
Even though Arthur couldn't see his face fully, he could sense his confusion.
"What are you talking about?" the Bat asked.
"Someone sounds clingy," the boy remarked, and this only made the rage simmering within Arthur reach its breaking point. He managed to slip out of the Bat's grasp and lunge at the child again.
But the child dodged his attack, jumping back from the end of the blade. Before Arthur could take another swipe, the Bat had him in his grip again.
"Enough, Arthur–" the Bat began to say when someone suddenly jumped on his back.
"Leave Mr. F alone!" Harley snarled as she held her bat against his throat, choking him.
Instead of feeling gratitude for saving him, Arthur was extremely annoyed with the psychiatrist. Where the hell had she been this entire time? Why had it taken her so damn long to show up?
Whatever. He didn't have time for her right now.
Leaving her behind, Arthur chased after the boy like a wild animal on the verge of starvation who had spotted its prey. With his dagger raised in the air, he followed him up a flight of stairs that led him to the second floor of the museum. But as Arthur was halfway up the stairs, something was flung across the room and knocked the dagger out of his hand.
Arthur faltered and turned to see a familiar throwing weapon stuck in the wall next to him. He recognized it by its unusual shape. It was a calling card of the Bat.
Turning in the direction it came from, Arthur saw the Bat glaring back at him, his anger practically simmering off of him. Harley was currently sprawled on the floor, trying to lick her wounds.
"Are you seriously crying?" The child peered down at him from the top of the stairs.
Arthur blinked, realizing his eyes were indeed wet. "The only one who's going to be crying here is you, you little shit!"
The boy–Arthur didn't give a shit what his name was or what he called himself–shook his head. "Mister, you really got to work on your material. I've seen mimes with better one-liners than you!"
Whether it was the red in the child's costume or a burst blood vessel, Arthur started to see red. This boy reminded him of everything Arthur hated about his old life. The kids who would harass him at his job. The audience who wouldn't laugh at his stand-up routines. Murray, who bullied and humiliated him on TV.
"I'm going to rip out that smart tongue of yours and we'll see who's laughing then!" Arthur snarled before pulling out the hidden gun from his waistline.
But the child didn't flee like last time. Instead, he ducked down and did a summersault, landing a hard kick to Arthur's crotch as he went beneath him.
Arthur doubled over in pain but did not lose his hold on the gun. However, that didn't stop the child from trying to take it from him.
"Let go!" Arthur attempted to elbow the brat in the face, but he was quicker. More flexible. He evaded Arthur's jab with ease.
"Don't worry, Mr. F, I'm coming!"
Both of them turned at the sound and saw Harley running up the stairs. Well, attempting to since the Bat kept catching up to her and yanking her back.
"Shoot the kid!" Arthur demanded, holding the gun above his head, out of the pipsqueak's reach. But the boy was like a monkey. He climbed up Arthur's lanky body as if it were a tree.
"I can't!" Harley cried after slipping from the Bat's clutches again. "The Bat took my gun!"
Arthur let out a frustrated sigh. "Then hit him! Bash his fucking brains in!"
Harley came to an abrupt halt just a few inches in front of them. "But– But he's just a kid!"
That was it. All of Arthur's vision went completely red.
Like the blood that dripped out of the child's cheek when Arthur struck him with the gun.
With a violent shove, Arthur had tossed the child away from him. He went tumbling across the floor, clutching the side of his face in pain. The Bat immediately glided over to him to check to see if he was okay, and that only enraged Arthur further.
This protectiveness, this parental attitude, it made Arthur sick.
Seething, Arthur stormed up to Harley, who began trembling.
"You're useless!" Arthur screamed at her. "When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it!"
"I'm– I'm sorry, Mr. F!" Harley started to back away from him, but Arthur wasn't going to let her go anywhere.
"You're sorry?! You're sorry?!" Arthur cackled, doing anything he could to keep from throwing up. And that included wrapping his fingers around Harley's collar and violently shaking her. "You will be when I'm through with you!"
"Please! Don't do this, Mr. Fleck!" Harley begged as she tried to pry his hands off of her, dropping her bat. "I'm sorry! It won't happen again!"
"You're right." His voice fell to a dangerous whisper. "It won't."
As Arthur cornered her, he had her back up against the staircase, which she failed to realize. Releasing his grip, Arthur watched as Harley fell down the stairs with a loud scream. She tried to break her fall, but the only thing she ended up breaking was her arm.
Arthur finally let out a small giggle, thinking how funny Harley looked as she tumbled like a rag doll. Whatever fire he held for her had long since cooled. There wasn't even an ember left.
Off to the side, the Bat and his protege watched the aftermath unfold in horror. It had all happened so quickly and suddenly as the Bat helped Robin to his feet that there was just no time to react.
"Robin, go check on her," the Bat said. "I'll take care of Arthur."
By now, Arthur had taken off again. To where, he wasn't even sure. Wherever he was, he was surrounded by his reflection staring back at him from every angle.
Arthur could only gape back, unable to believe this was him. Not just because he resembled a ghoul with his smeared makeup and blotchy face, but because all he saw was everything the child wasn't.
Old.
Wrinkled.
Sickly.
Ugly.
Pathetic.
Rejected.
Unloved.
It wasn't fair! Arthur had always been discarded by the world. By his own family. And the one person, the only person who he thought would never cast him aside, had done the same.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way!" Arthur clutched his temple. "How could you do this to me?!"
A new reflection came into view behind him. A much taller and darker one with pointed ears.
It said nothing, like usual. It just observed him with that familiar glare.
"I should be the one at your side! Not that brat!" Arthur sunk to his knees. "I'm the one who made you! I'm the one who gave you a purpose! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even be standing here right now!"
"You're delusional, Arthur," the reflection spoke. "Ever since I met you, you've always had these sick delusions."
Arthur shook his head. "No! You can take him in, but not me?! You're my blood! You're my family! You belong to me!"
He stood up and raised the gun still in his grasp, aiming it at the reflection in front of him. The glass shattered as soon as he pulled the trigger, but that didn't stop him from firing at every mirror he could find in this endless maze.
When he ran out of bullets, Arthur let out a painful howl and discarded the gun. The bile in his throat was burning it, and his head was spinning. He could hardly even breathe.
The Bat rushed out of the darkness, catching him by surprise with a gloved fist to the face.
Arthur fell back and crashed into a mirror, breaking it.
Wincing, he glanced up and saw the Bat looming over him.
"You're real," he choked out through the blood filling his mouth, relieved that the reflection wasn't just another hallucination.
The Bat did not answer. But he did start to close in on Arthur, glass crunching beneath his boots.
Despite the tiny slivers of glass cutting into his back, Arthur managed to smile up at him. It was finally just him and the Bat again.
As it should be.
But of course, the moment had to be ruined when he heard the sound of feet running up to them.
The child came up beside the Bat, a startled look on his face.
"Looks like you finally got the punchline." His mouth tugged up into half-smirk.
Arthur didn't fail to notice the sigh the Bat let out and the way his eyes narrowed. But whereas when Arthur made a bad joke, there was none of that same irritation here.
In fact, it seemed almost playful.
No. That wasn't possible! Only Arthur could do that! Only he could bring out that side of the Bat, something he had never achieved but so desperately tried to.
Arthur's smile morphed into a glower. He refused to believe what was right in front of him. Never taking his glare off of the teen, his fingers found a piece of glass on the floor, and Arthur clenched it so hard it cut his skin.
He lunged at the boy with a growl, but he didn't even touch him before both him and the Bat sucker-punched him. The force knocked Arthur's body back into the mirror, and he did not get up again.
Slumped back, Arthur's tears mixed with the blood running down his face. His breathing was becoming shallow and his vision was quickly fading to black. Meanwhile, the Bat and his protege looked down at him, not hiding the pity and disgust on their expressions.
With his last conscious moments, he wondered if he should just drive the shard of glass into his chest.
At least then it'd be less painful than the millions of pieces his heart had been broken into.