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I AM YOUR GOD, QUINN
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The King and Queen of Gotham City are having a stern stare down, waiting for the other to make the first move. And the green-haired lunatic hasn't moved an inch since his woman pulled a knife out on him. He has never had to deal with his little harlequin doing something to him like this.
The knife in question is the fanciest item she possess in this shit-hole; with an intricately decorated hilt that has jewels studded here and there, and a sleek black blade that is hot to the touch, even in the chilliest of nights. She had snatched it off of another inmate when she was too distracted with her inmate boyfriend to even notice Harley's sticky hands.
As she stands there, her heart beating violently into her chest, she hears a snicker from above, surprising her a little.
"Honey, pumpkin, baby," comes Jack Nieper's response with a hint of amusement, but also a whole lot of shock. "You don't wanna do that now, do you? You'd be making a big mistake." A singing tone is latched to the last bit of his warning.
His tall silhouette hovers menacingly over hers, shadowing the small girl completely. He will not let himself become fearful of her — after all, she is just a girl. And men do not bow down to girls.
The blade of her pocket knife continues to threateningly gleam in her hand as she points it skyward. Silence is her only response.
He licks his lips and then slightly backs away from her — just slightly. He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Come on, you know you'd only regret it later. You always do."
He has eyes that are as green as the bubbling pits of his birthplace, Ace Chemicals, and verdant hair that flows behind him in a long braid. On his torso, he wears nothing but his wide-open beige patient uniform which displays a sturdy chest and a well-toned stomach. On the bottom, the rest of his jumpsuit is puffed out somewhat and around his neck is a choker made out of his very own hair.
Glancing around her room, Harley's eyes land on her cell door, and he chuckles, because he already knows that she is up to no good. He is quick, but she is quicker, as she races over to a white folding chair she has sitting right beside it. Then, she secures it under the door handle, spinning back around to show the Joker a grin of her own. It's a smile that has been itching to be let out for quite some time now. If looks could kill.
The man who formerly ruled her heart and very being looks a bit taken back, and might she say, fearful. He was supposed to have the upper hand here, but, oh, have the tables turned. His smile drops quickly and his fists start to ball into tight fists. "What are you doing?"
Twirling the blade in her hands and smiling, she peeks up at him through her hair. "What I shoulda done a long time ago." There isn't a hint of reluctance in her voice, which makes him question her bluff even more.
"Unlock the door," he demands.
She then surveys the man before her, and she can't maintain the small laughter that bubbles up in the back of her throat. "No," she answers back, now with a straight face. "We're gonna settle this once an' for all."
Although he may be weak and powerless inside of Arkham, out there he is the people's Ace of Knaves, their Jester of Genocide. He will not allow a stupid little girl to threaten him, or even try to intimidate him. People fear him, kids double check under their beds and inside of their closets just so they are sure that the Smiling Prince isn't hiding there at night. He won't fear her. He doesn't even fear God, himself. His purpose for being here was never for a fight. Instead, it was to make her remember again — to remember that she belongs to him, and only him.
The Joker used to thrive when she was deeply in love and obsessed with him. He could ask for anything and she'd do it with so much enthusiasm and hope. She was like no other. She was loyal and a true ride or die. But she was just never enough for him.
He takes one lengthy step towards her, and instantly her knife points to his naked chest. She doesn't want to use it, but she will if she has to. Jack just simply moves the dagger with nothing but his finger, and walks closer to her, with a look that could make the devil, himself, cower away in fear. His finger mimics her pocket knife as it harshly jabs into her chest.
"I don't know what your plan is, Quinzel," he starts up again, never breaking eye-contact. "But before this night is over, I'm gonna wring your sweet little neck 'til your eyes pop out of your head!"
Harley can feel his hot breath on her face, which makes her anger boil even more. Her distaste for his closeness doesn't go unseen by the crazy lunatic who finds delight in her reaction. His stance straightens and he gains a sudden boost of confidence just by the look on her face.
He is an emotional vampire, and she is feeding him.
The Joker hates that she ever let him doubt himself, even for a split second. What a stupid little girl, he thinks cockily to himself. As if you could beat me. He has always thought that the good doctor only played dumb, but now he is beginning to wonder if her blondeness has real roots. Hee hee! His mind briefly thinks back to their sessions in this very building. He should have let her know right there and then that the Joker never loses.
Maybe he should have carved it into her flesh. That way she would always remember.
Quinn isn't breaking a sweat, though. Similar to him, she is sure of herself. She knows very well that if he has anything to defend himself with he would have whipped it out from the very beginning. "Remove that finger. Now."
But his finger only becomes more rough and stern against her skin as it stabs it angrily. "That's not gonna happen. What is going to happen is you and I will play a little game."
Harley can't help but scoff at his statement. She isn't here to play any stupid little games. In her professional opinion, the Joker is still stuck in high school. She is here to get some answers. Why did he fake his death? Who the hell is behind all of this?
"Dream on. Let's talk about what's really going on here —" Her sentence is cut short as Jack, out of nowhere, grabs her by the neck and begins to inch his face close to hers. "Haha," she chuckles lowly. If she is feeling any fear at the moment, she sure isn't showing it. "I see. It's playtime, just like the old days. Wonderful."
His grip on her neck is extremely tight, until he moves his hand up and instead latches his dirty hands onto her face.
"Argh," Harley grunts, struggling to remove the scrawny man off of her without having to use to knife. "Get yer paws off of me!" She is starting to have enough of having his grimy hands on top of her, so she finally conquers all of her strength to push him back. The knife in her hand accidentally slices his elbow in the process, causing small droplets of blood to trickle down his forearm.
An expression on pure rage appears on his face. How dare she?! It was an accident, but he doesn't look at it that way, as he returns the gesture by aggressively pushing her head back into the padded wall behind her. Photos of him and Post-Its which are taped onto the wall now come flying down all around them. You can look at it as a symbol of their crumbling relationship.
Quinn can only look up at him, dead in the eye, and quirk a simple smile as she watches him hold his arm tightly. "Yer never gonna mess with me or my mind again, ya hear me?" She rises up from the ground, her gaze on the bleeding man never breaking. "You disgust me."
She huffs, before turning and walking towards the door. Maybe if she gets lucky, somebody will be close enough to hear her calls. But then the Joker's voice stops her.
"I know," he says, his voice almost too low for her to hear. His hands then drops from the small wound on his elbow, and he begins to smile. "I disgust you where it counts, baby."
Harley scoffs, looking back at him. "Rot in hell, you chuckling schmuck." Before she can turn back around however, she sees a disturbing look on his face. It's a look that says that he isn't finished just yet.
"I think you're forgetting that I make the rules here, pumpkin," he roars like an animalistic monster, his strength clearly no match for hers. She hasn't eaten much since she first arrived to Arkham, and is practically now just skin and bones. Exercise is the only thing that is keeping her strength from disintegrating, but even that's not enough.
Quinn looks up, knife in hand, is about to strike first, when he pushes her back again — this time more harshly. Her groans are loud from the pain in her head, the force of the blow hard enough to fully push her down onto the floor. Her knife is then kicked out of her hands and booted to the other end of the room. He kneels down in front of her, smiling as he gently caresses her cheek.
"Still frail in body and in mind, Harley?" He calmly inspects his dirty fingernails, while she murders him in her head, rather brutally if I might add. "Some things never change," he laughs, looking back at her with a big smile. "I'll give you one more chance to make this right. Sounds good? All you have to do is just kiss —"
There is a sudden loud shrieking sound as she cuts him off by head-butting his mouth, which sends his head back a few inches. "I've got your frail right here! An' I'll never kiss —"
He reciprocates by sending a blow right to her jaw with his foot. But, unlike him, her head doesn't go back just a few inches. Instead, she is knocked back completely from the kick. Blood shoots out from her nose and the inside of her mouth, dripping down onto the squeaky clean floor. Her blue pools water from the shock of the hit, as well from her built up anger, as she cups her hand over her face. She silently glares up at the green-haired monster as he picks himself back up again.
"You just caused yourself a world of problems, you witless twit," he spits angrily. Angry, but still proud that he out-won her. Red spots dance before Harley's eyes, her vision is blurry from her tears, and she tastes blood. Then, her vision returns, and she sees the look of triumph on his face. But that look is quickly wiped off of his face as she suddenly slides her leg underneath his and causes him to trip on it before falling back on the floor. The slender man looks over at her, growling as if he were a ferocious animal.
Which, in a way he is.
Jack Nieper is a monsterous animal that deserves to never see the light of day.
The moment you feel an ounce of sympathy for the man is the moment you are permanently doomed. Dr. Quinzel learned this the hard way, unfortunately.
"I may have a lotta problems," she starts angrily as she wipes the blood off of her face with the sleeves of her jumpsuit, "but you are a whole different breed, my dear." He tries to bring his hand up so that he can hit her, but she strikes first. She slides over to him and in one fluid movement latches herself onto him tightly. Her body isn't very heavy, but it is heavy enough to pin him down to the ground. She uses all of her strength to pull his arm back with one hand, and strikes him over the head with the other. "Every single word outta yer cacklin' yap, you create chaos!"
The Joker doesn't seem very fazed by her hits, although blood is beginning to appear from the back of his head. She can easily smash his head open if she really wants to, she almost did it to Victoria — a matured vampire. But she doesn't want to. At least not now. She wants answers first.
"Heh, this is news now?" He then starts to laugh maniacally as he strangely enjoys the sensation of the bones in his arm being pulled back, as well as the odd feeling of Harley's rock-like hand punching into his skull. In a way, it is comforting to him. It faintly reminds him of the frequent beatings his drunk father used to give him.
Quinn is blinded with rage, and his howling laughter isn't relieving any of her fury. Instead, it intensifies it. "Yeah," she screams, getting in as many hits as possible. "Well, I got enough of it in my own head, I don't need you addin' to it!"
Jack Nieper groans, not out of pain, but out of frustration at the small girl. With ease, he turns back around and pushes her off of her with a single arm. "I'm growin' real tired of you, Quinn," he says in a gruff voice, wanting to get a few punches in, himself.
As Harley recollects herself, he suddenly throws himself on top of her and raises his fist for his first piece of the pie. But she beats him to it as she fists his stomach in. It weakens him a bit.
"Yeah? Well, then I guess th' feelin' is more than mutual!" Blood drops from her nose and mouth; it runs down her chin and continues down her neck. Her teeth are stained with blood, too, glimmering under the light every time she speaks.
Harley is taken back as he, out of nowhere, pulls her back by her two braided pigtails, now lying beneath him as he straddles her. He is on top of her, violently pulling her head back by her hair. His hands are painful on her — not loving and caring like Edward's. It's as though he is trying to rip her entire head of hair out of her scalp, but all that it is doing is slowly and painfully snapping her neck. She can hardly even breathe.
"No," he growls into her ear. "No. It isn't. Your feelings count for nothing, because you are nothing, you pathetic mess."
But then finally his grip on her begins to loosen, and his green eyes soften a bit with it. His alabaster hands remain on her hair, though, but they aren't pulling it anymore. Quinn has enough freedom to look back at him, mascara running off her face in messy rivulets. Her look of hatred remains. But he dismisses it as he delicately wraps one hand around her neck, inducing her face closer to his.
"Just give in to it," he whispers reassuringly, just an inch away from locking lips with her. "You know you want it..."
With his hand now caressing her hair, he presses a lingering kiss. His hands on her hair and neck slowly start to grow tough again as he satisfies his hunger with her bloody, pinky flesh. The taste of metal on her lips doesn't mind him at all — instead, it's what makes him want her even more. He wants to make her bleed all over the place just so that he can taste the blood off her skin.
For a moment, Harley returns the kiss — just for a moment. But then she chomps down on his bottom lip and pulls her head back, causing him to lose a small chunk of his lip. He screams out loud with blood pouring down his chin, and finally lets her go.
The blood and gore doesn't affect Harley Quinn, not in the slightest. In fact, she rather likes it, as seen by the way she'd wear an evil smirk on her face as she would violently slash innocent people again and again with a knife.
"See ya in hell, schmuck," she says, her voice filled with venom as she is about to stand up from the floor when the Joker suddenly hops on top of her back, latching his very being onto her. One arm is snaked around her neck, violently choking her, whilst the other is in control of adding more pressure as it rests on top of the other.
"Let's see who gets there first," he snarls into her ear, his breath and the seriousness of his voice causing an unfamiliar chill to her spine. It truly shakes her to the core. The Joker is crazy enough to kill her and then kill himself afterwards. He's threatened to do so many times — even when they were together. Her breaths come out in painful gasp as she tries to peel his two arms from her neck. "Nice knowing you, Quinn."
A plan of escape quickly flashes in her mind, and she fully drops back onto the floor. Jack, still attached to her, goes flying back, finally hitting the ground with a loud thud. All of the air in his lungs is knocked out of him from the impact, as well as from the pain in his lip and stomach. Quinn has landed on top of him, quickly rolling as far away from the Joker before standing back up again. She is out of breath, needing to take painful gasps before she can fully talk again.
"I hate ya for what ya bring out in me," she says in a pained voice, now standing above him. "All I wanted was to talk to you."
The Joker tries to stand up again, but she is far too quick for him as she pushes him back down with her foot.
"An' here we are muckin' around with each other's marbles, an' poundin' each other to a pulp," she takes this moment now that he is finally down to grab the nearest item to her — a sweater — and twist it tightly, "as usual!"
Harley ties the twisted item of clothing around his wrist, although he struggles against it. His hands are now secured behind his back as he lays flat on the floor.
"Cause every time we get together," she continues, this time calmly, "that's what we do. It's not my thing, and it's never been my thing. I just don' like it. An' I'm done with it."
The Joker lays unmoving as he waits for her to finally deliver her final blow and finally kill him for once. "Harley," he softly whispers out her name, his voice low and raspy as he fights through the pain just to speak to her.
But Harley just shakes her head. She clearly isn't having any of his smelly B.S anymore. "Just shut up fer once, will ya? Now, tell me who the hell put you up to this."
Joker leans forward into the light, exposing a badly beaten and bruised face with a bloody, lipstick red smile, an eye that wont open, and green hair in a mess. Quinn is taken aback. There is no resistance in his answer. "... Waller."
A shocked gasp slips from her lips. Amanda Waller? No, how could it be? What is her reasoning behind all of this? What does she gain out of it? None of this is making any sense. "Why? Why did she do it?"
"Oh, come on, Harley," he responds in a bored tone, groaning. "Don't act stupid. You know what she wanted. She wanted to keep us apart. Without us there would be no more bombings, no more robberies, no more fun! She kept us separated because she wanted to have control over us. Thats why she told you that you couldn't come back to Gotham. She couldn't risk you knowing the truth! You ever ask yourself why I'm isolated from the other wackos? That's why! That's why Waller and stupid Batman had me play dead."
It is finally beginning to click together. But a question remains.
"What about you? What did you get out of any of this," she asks sternly. He wouldn't be doing all of this just because Waller and Gotham's favorite superhero said so. No, they had to have had something to sweeten the deal.
"Eh," there is some hesitation to his voice. Quinn's intense stare finally pulls the truth out of him. "Well, alright! When they caught me after the crash, they wanted to give me the death penalty. So, to avoid that, as any man would, they wanted me to fake die and, uh, anonymously testify against you on your court case."
Harley instantly jumps back from the sudden testimony. "You what?!"
The Joker looks frustrated by her response, knowing very well that she would have done the very same thing if she had the chance. "Oh Harley, sweetie, baby, you know you would have done the same. Don't lie now. If you were in my shoes, you wouldn't waste a second to jump on the opportunity. Plus, you're out now, can't you see? We can finally be together again! Just help me escape and everything will go back to normal. I promise."
Harley is now standing up next to her cell door, shaking her head in disbelief. How has this become her reality? She looks back at the Joker with murder in her eyes. He has betrayed her. Harley has done a lot of messed up things to this man, but she has never testified against him or ratted him out to the cops — ever. She was always loyal to him, even in the worst of the worst.
"I'm not yer toy anymore, don't you get that? Look, Jack, you did mean somethin' to me one time, but that time is over. Now, do yerself a favor and fer once in yer miserable life say nothin'. No chattin'. No chortlin'. Just lie there an' bleed to yer death."
Blood is dripping from his wounds. He is alive, but losing blood, just by looking at him Harley can tell that he doesn't have long before he passes out.
The sound of a door being aggressively pulled open clouds the air, meaning that somebody has finally realized that the Joker is missing from his cage. There isn't a lot of time left to say much, but Quinn nevertheless takes a single step towards the Joker.
"I hope you know that if I ever hear you or see you again — if ya ever mess with me, my family, or my friends — I won't be as nice as I was today, an' I'll finish yer alabaster ass fer good."
A crowd of loud, booming footsteps are beginning to approach her cell, all of them in unison as they race through the dull hallway.
The Joker is weak and frail, but still has a mouth and a few choice of words he has to let out before he is locked away forever. "Why, you little shit. Don't you ever forget who created you, you red and black bimbo. I am your God, Quinn. Don't forget it! No man will ever replace the hole in your heart that I fill. Just drop the low budget Jane Smith bad-ass facade and admit that we are meant to be together forever. We are meant for each other — two souls tied together by fate."
Harley Quinn can just scoff and shake her head at his pitifulness. Then, the door to her cellroom bursts wide open and a sea of armed guards come swarming in with their automatic rifles aimed at her and the dying man on the floor. She doesn't fight back. Instead, she just peacefully puts her hands up and quietly lets them detain her.
The Joker is the only person in her line of vision as she stares at him intensively, the walls around her beginning to turn back. He is all that she can see.
Jack looks back at her, deep in thought for a moment, before a wide grin makes its way to his lips.
Eventually, the darkness begins to consume him, too, and she is left in the encroaching dark — that seems to slither along the walls around her and threatens to swallow her whole. As the guards handcuff her hands to her back, the only thing that remains in her vision are the green irises of a slithering snake.
FIN