Harley's Revenge
"This was delivered an hour ago," Commissioner Gordon held a folded piece of paper in his hand, "no courier, some street kid who couldn't identify the person who gave him the envelope, just paid him $50 to bring it in."
Batman took the paper and unfolded it at the creases. "Couldn't or wouldn't?"
"What's the difference?" Gordon responded. "What do you make of it?"
It was a typed note with a time, 9 o' clock that night, and an address, an abandoned warehouse that had been closed for years, and at the bottom was a drawn picture of the Joker and Harley Quinn both with X's over their eyes.
"The Joker's been laying low since his last escape from Arkham," Batman pointed out what both men already knew.
"So either somebody's playing a weird prank with the police department," James said. "Or..."
"The Joker's setting a trap," Batman said.
"There's a third possibility."
Batman barely nodded. "Someone's actually planning to kill the Joker and his whole gang."
"But why tell us about it?" Gordon asked. "We have a legal and moral duty to stop them before it comes to that, whoever sent this would have to know that."
Batman looked the note over again.
"Whoever sent this wants the police there at 9...my guess is after the fireworks are over."
"So, assuming there's actually anything to this warehouse," Gordon said, "what time does the show really start?"
"And what does the Joker have planned?" Batman wanted to know. "We need to figure out what targets in the area he'd be likely to hit. The way his mind works, it could literally be anything."
"Yeah, but my money's still on anything with a cash value," the commissioner responded. "Banks, jewelry stores."
"Assuming it's just a simple robbery and not a kidnapping," Batman replied, "or blowing up another railroad."
"The day we never have to wonder about this guy anymore, I'll be happy," James told the caped crusader, "there's no end in sight to his schemes, and the whole Gotham City police force is exhausted from trying to anticipate his next move."
"I wouldn't hold my breath," Batman told him. "The Joker has escaped Arkham countless times over the years, he's escaped what should've been certain death time and time again."
"You think it's sheer dumb luck, or just plain evil?" Gordon inquired.
"Maybe both," Batman answered.
Harley Quinn was sitting in the middle of a beat up couch with the stuffing coming out in a couple places, in the middle of the abandoned warehouse the Joker was using for his latest hideout. Her arms were folded against her chest, and her head was dropped to her arms as she slept.
"HARRRRRRLEEEY!"
"Huh?" she snorted as she jolted up and looked around the room, "Who-wha-wher-who-wha-where...who's on first?"
"Get up!" the Joker told her as he entered the room, "we're moving out in 20 minutes."
"Oh gee, boss, do we hafta?" Harley asked as she rubbed one eye.
The Joker made a low sound in his throat and cocked his head and stared at her like she'd become a walking enigma he couldn't identify.
"Do-we-hafta?" he repeated dumbfoundedly.
She stood up and took two steps over to him and tried to persuade him, "Can't we stay in tonight, puddin'?"
One gloved hand shoved her back towards the couch and she fell on a broken spring.
"Are you forgetting we're broke?" Joker berated more than asked.
"Broke's better than being locked up in Arkham again," Harley said as she reached behind with one hand to rub where the spring jabbed her. "And that's what always happens. Have you noticed that, Mistah J?" she asked as she stood up again, and gestured with emphasis, "It's what always happens, every time we go out on one of your big plans, Batman shows up, you try to kill him, he chases you, and the next thing you know we're all back in the loony bin until the next time!"
The last syllable was barely out of her mouth when she felt the Joker backhand her across the mouth and cheek so hard she fell on the floor.
"Don't you ever question my plans, you got that?" he said to her as she curled into a fetal ball. "I'm the brains of this outfit and don't you forget it!"
Harley chanced opening one eye and said in a lower tone than usual for her, "I'm starting to get bored with this arrangement."
The next thing out of her mouth was a choked squeak as the Joker grabbed her by her collar and yanked her back to her feet. His hideous yellow eyes stared right through to her soul as he told her, "Without me, you'd be nothing. Not that it's saying much for your current situation, you who have the brains of a lima bean!"
"If you hate me so much, then let me go," she sniped back at him.
He shook his head, "No way, sister, you're in it up to your eyeballs, where would you even go? Hmmm?" he sneered in superiority. It brought a mild expression of panic to her face as she realized he was right. He voiced her thoughts by adding, "The Gotham police would snatch you up in 10 seconds flat without me. Even if you managed to elude them, you've got nowhere to go. Nobody would be dumb enough to take the likes if you in. Even our friends from Arkham retracted their welcome mats after the last time we were all rounded up. No, when the time comes you do leave, it'll be feet first." He took one step forward and pressed his weight against her and hissed in her face, "You got that?"
Her eyes widened slightly and there was a nervous squeak in her voice as she meekly responded, "Yes sir."
"Good," he took a step back and resumed his usual demeanor as he straightened the lapels on his jacket, "now, let's get ready. Tonight, I'm finally going to be rich beyond my wildest dreams, and not even Batman himself will be able to stop me."
Harley had one gloved hand balled against her cheek as she drummed the fingers on her other hand against the driver side door on the getaway car as she waited for the others to come back out. How she got stuck as the wheel man on this job was beyond her. With nothing better to do she looked around and saw the giant clock over the bank reading 8:55.
A sudden blaring noise drew her out of her thoughts, the security alarm was going off. The front windows of the Gotham City bank were shattered by gunfire, and the Joker came rushing out the door with a big bag of money and tossed it into the back of the convertible.
"What happened, puddin'?" she asked as she pulled the seat belt over and snapped it in place.
"Little snag," he said casually as he slid into the passenger seat, "let's burn rubber."
"But what about the others?"
"Their hard luck, go!" he ordered.
She shrugged. "Okay."
Throwing the car into gear, Harley peeled out of there at top speed. So much so the Joker felt his body thrown back against the seat.
"What're you doing!?" he demanded to know.
"You said burn rubber!" she replied.
They were going so fast now the wind was making a deafening roaring sound that just about blocked out everything else and he felt his lips flapping all the way up to his cheeks.
"Slow down!" he hollered to be heard over the noise.
She looked at him, confused, "But you said-"
"Slow down!" he yelled.
The former psychiatrist shrugged one shoulder as she turned back to the road, "Okay."
Switching her foot from the gas to the brake, the car decelerated so quickly that the Joker was thrown forward in his seat and his face slammed into the dashboard.
"You should've been wearing your seat belt, Mistah J," she offered meekly.
The Joker was groaning in muffled agony as he sat back up and was holding his nose.
"Whad ith dhe madder widdu?" he asked.
"What?" she asked.
"Whad," he grunted and let go of his nose, "what is the matter with you?"
"I'm doing what you told me!" she pointed out.
"Don't do what I told you and do what I'm telling you!" he yelled at her.
Sirens in the distance got both of their attention.
"Well? What're you waiting for, an invitation? Get us out of here!" the Joker told her.
Harley rolled her eyes as she put her foot on the gas again. After zipping through a few city blocks, they saw the lights flashing on the police cars approaching them from the opposite direction. Harley's eyes got big as she swerved and the car cut across a corner and decapitated a fire hydrant, subjecting the car, its occupants and all its contents to a virtual drowning.
"What are you doing!?" the Joker wanted to know.
"I panicked," she said pathetically.
The Joker grumbled ominously under his breath and grabbed Harley by the throat and pulled her out of the car.
"I ought to-!"
"They're coming!" Harley looked and saw the police cars pulling to assorted stops all around the block. "We're surrounded!"
"One 'I told you so' out of you," the Joker warned her, "and they'll be sweeping your pretty little face off the street tomorrow."
The light turned down in Harley Quinn's eyes by several notches. Her smile dropped, her lip curled on one side, and her voice lost its bubble and perk.
"No," she said in a more normal and somewhat distressing tone, "this ends right now, Jack."
"What?" the Joker turned to her, and was next screaming "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" in excruciating pain as he was blinded by something sprayed in his eyes.
"Police, freeze!"
"Drop it, lady!"
Commissioner Gordon and Batman were the last ones to join them. Harley waited until they were at the front before she held out her hand. Batman took the mini aerosol can from her, revealing it was a pocket can of hairspray.
"I'm glad you're here," she said in a tone neither man could ever recall hearing.
Harley pulled off her mask and her jester cap and revealed her true face, her blonde hair shook loose. If this was a trick, it was a new one for the crime fighters.
"Commissioner James Gordon, Batman," she said in a professional tone as she placed her hands on her head in a gesture of surrender, "We've never been formally introduced, but there's no time for that now. I want to turn state's evidence against the Joker."
The madman in question had been doubled over rubbing his eyes and groaning in pain. Upon hearing that he popped one eye open despite the sting from the hairspray, and straightened his spine and demanded to know, "WHAT?"
The young woman flipped her blonde hair back with one hand and as she looked to him, she said dryly but with a hint of sarcasm, "Too bad you didn't marry me, a wife can't testify against her husband."
"You...you..." the Joker sputtered as his brain couldn't even begin to comprehend what was going on, "you're-"
"Perfectly, 100%, certifiably sane," Harley answered. "And quite a string puller if I do say so myself." She turned to Batman and asked, "You got my note?"
"You wrote it?" Batman seemed mildly surprised.
"Yeah, who else could give you the drop on when the Joker would pull that robbery?" she asked. "I figured you'd work your way back from the warehouse and find us en route."
"What in blinking blue blazes is going on here?" the Joker asked, ironically feeling the ground being pulled out from under him.
"Did you really think a psychiatrist wouldn't know when a sociopath is trying to manipulate them?" Harley asked.
The Joker's eyes got big, "Then you mean...this whole time..."
"Just like playing a fiddle," Harley commented as she made an accompanying gesture.
His eyes got even bigger. "That's impossible! You didn't even want to come on this job!"
"And I knew you wouldn't stand for that," she responded from where she stood beside Batman. "What better way to elude suspicion? If I didn't want to come tonight, I couldn't possibly have told Batman and the police where to find us at 9 o' clock. Could I?"
The Joker looked like he was about to lose whatever grip he still maintained on reality.
"You can't do this! It's insane!" he exclaimed.
"And it's a masterpiece," Harley said bluntly. She squinted one eye coyly and added, "How do you like my work, puddin'?"
"I'll talk freely," Harleen Quinzell told James Gordon as she was being fingerprinted, "I'll get a lawyer later, but I don't mind clearing the air." Addressing the commissioner and Batman she said in a tone far more normal than either man was accustomed to hearing from her, "I really want to apologize for all the things that I helped do to you guys over the years. I really feel sick about it all."
"You really mean to say all this time you've been playing the Joker?" Gordon asked.
"And the rest of Gotham City," Batman added.
She nodded. "The first time I saw the Joker in Arkham he started flirting with me. I couldn't figure out what angle he might be going for, so I decided to let him think it worked, and see where it went. And when I found out, it was too late to get out. But then I realized it might be for the best."
"How so?" Batman inquired.
The former psychiatrist wiped the ink off her hands, then was stood against the wall for a set of mug shots, then she told them as she was led over to a holding cell, "The Joker's been able to do what he does because Arkham Asylum is not a maximum security prison. The courts haven't been able to touch him since he played the insanity card at his first trial. I've got you guys enough evidence to get him declared sane, and transferred to prison where he actually belongs. Under the law, everything I give you is admissible since I wasn't acting as an agent of the police during my time with him."
The whites of Batman's mask widened as he realized, "You thought this through."
"You betcha," she replied.
"How could anything get the Joker ruled sane?" Gordon asked. "The man's a lunatic."
"That's true," Harleen replied as the door slid shut between them, "but I believe I'll be a very compelling witness."