Irresistible Madness

*Note to readers, first of all this is a JokerXHarley fan-fic. I have decided that I wanted to portray the two in a different light, the couple is usually known for the infamous actions and abuse towards Harley.  Instead of keeping their relationship what is dubbed ‘Toxic’ I would like to bring it to a new kind of light.  This is how I saw them when I was first introduced to Harley, before seeing the obsessive side that DC has given to her.  Also this little story takes place before Harleen Quinzel becomes Harley Quinn.  The story takes place after the Joker has escaped Arkham after previously having Harley as his doctor.  Also I would like to say I was inspired as I’m sure many others were by the Joker Blogs.*

Joker’s View

                I sharply inhaled, barley missing the blade that Batsy had aimed at my throat.  His black cape whirled around with a whoosh as he turned to face me once again.

                “This is the end Joker, you are finally going to put behind bars.”  He said it in his deep monotone voice that always cracked me up.

                “Come on Bats, do you really think you can bring me down?  Let’s face the facts, this joke is getting old.”  I smirked flashing one of my ghoulish smiles with a side of canned laughter. 

                His expression stayed the same, the majority of his features covered by his stupid mask. His stature appeared to be a striking position, but he let the silence drag on leaving my words hanging in the air.  He raised his arms, signaling to someone.  I quickly scanned the room looking for some hidden assassin, but nothing was happening.  Then I heard it, the creaking of a rusty door being pried open.  It squealed in protest as an invisible henchman forced it open.  After an instant of silence a putrid smell filled the warehouse room.

                “Tell me Joker, have you ever heard this one?”  He flashed me a smile, his perfectly white teeth reflecting the dim lights above.  He shot his rope gun sending a hook up into the rafters.  He soared up above me, leaving me to see the yawning door that had been opening behind him.  I felt a gasp rising in my throat; it took all of my will power to keep it from escaping. 

                Across the room, through the ancient door that had been opened was a death trap in every sense of the word.  A vat of acid bubbled and spit, emitting the rancid smell that had now filled the warehouse.  Hanging from a loose rope was Harley.  Her clothing was in tatters, blood staining every inch of the remaining fabric.  Cuts along her jaw and neck oozed droplets of blood, the remainder of her wounds now tacky and congealed.  Horrible violet bruises and welts covered her body, her face swollen and puffy.  Her blond hair flopped down towards the acid stained with blood and grime.  Her eyes were closed; her body completely limp as it hung upside down above the vat. I couldn’t quite comprehend what I had just seen, when Batman’s voice pierced my haze. 

                “I found her last night down at Arkham.  She was looking for you.  Apparently after you escaped she was doing everything she could to find you.  That’s when I got this idea! I decided that I would give you a little taste of your own medicine.  I figured what better way to get your attention then taking a hostage of my own.  And who you might ask would be a good hostage against the Joker? Why not his doctor?  Of course she made it a little too easy, she really shouldn’t be so trusting of people.”  It was the first time I could hear any emotion in his voice, it was perplexing.  For a moment I almost believed that the Batman had honestly fallen into insanity.      

                “You know what Batsy?  I kinda like this dark side of you, but it really isn’t your style.”  I tried to walk towards where Harley was without drawing the attention of old spandex-man hanging from the ceiling.  I was almost half way to the vat when he dropped down in front of me attempting a punch.  It grazed my jaw, but missed for the most part.  I skittered to the side pulling a knife from the waist band of my pants.  I aimed it at his face, the stab almost connecting.