The Joker sat at his desk as Frost reluctantly walked in. Frost glances at an envelope in his hands. He knows what is inside, because he is the one who put it's contents there. He didn't want to give the envelope to the Joker. He knew it would only ruin the delightful mood he'd been in lately.
Frost clears his throat, "Boss," he says and outstretches his hand with the envelope out to the Joker.
The Joker stares at it for a moment. He already knew what would be inside that envelope too. And he knew it would change everything. The Joker reaches out to take the envelope.
"She's with him, isn't she?" He swallows and opens the envelope. He pulls out a picture of Harley and Jason leaving out of the back entrance of the Gotham Hotel.
"Yes sir, you were right. She ran right to him," Frost sighs.
"What did you expect her to do when her private investigator gave her graphic pictures of Alexis and I? Of course she ran to Jason. He can give her everything I never could," he says dryly and rips the pictures in half.
Frost looks down, "Sir, I also have audio of them... in the hotel room... together. D-do you want..."
The Joker gives a smirk, "The voyeuristic masochist in me says yes, but my rational side says it's probably best if I don't." The Joker's eyes find Frost's, "They were intimate? Yes?"
Frost nods, "Yes sir."
The Joker just maintains his unblinking stare with Frost, "I don't know if I should kill them, or send them a gift. Heh-heh." The Joker nervously sweeps his hand over his head. He then places both palms flat on his desk top. "I'm happy for her. I am. Being married to me was certainly no picnic."
But then the facade began to crumble away, and the Joker attacks everything on his desk. Slinging. Crumpling. Breaking. The egotistical narcissist in him had wounded pride. His wife had left him, and run right into the arms of another. Someone who was intent on ending his life. The last remnants of an emotional human in him said that he deserved it. That he was just as guilty as Harley was.
But then, through the fog of all his anger and disparities, Alexis's face began to take shape. She wasn't like Harley. Not at all. And he loved her for that, because he never could decide if he loved Harley. But he did love Alexis. Completely.
The Joker ceases the assault on his desk and a smile comes to his face. "Johnny, everything is right where it belongs."
************************
Julia Paradise's POV
I always make it a point to investigate the people who hire me. I guess it was just some detective gene programmed into my DNA. Even as a child I had so many questions to ask about everything. As a teen, I read crime novels. I always figured out who the killer was before the book revealed it. What can I say, I have an overly analytical brain. And life is one big mystery to be solved.
Anyway, in my investigation into Harley Quinn, I discovered that she had a child. A two year old daughter named Lucy. And to be honest, the thought of the Joker procreating, scared the everliving fuck out of me. Probably at least half of this city would agree with me.
But, I discovered that the plot thickened. It wasn't the Joker's kid at all. I found a DNA test that showed the child was related to him however. The Joker was her uncle, not her father. So naturally, I think about Jester, the Joker's twin brother. It made sense. I had managed to find a single green hair on me after my encounter with "Clown the Second". So I had Jester's DNA. But what do I find? The kid wasn't his either.
At this point I retested everything again, thinking I had made an error somewhere. Because DNA like the Joker's was extremely complicated. Half of it was chemicals, and those chemicals altered things drastically. But I hadn't made any mistakes. Which could only mean one more thing. There was a second brother. I wonder if there had actually been triplets? Three Jokers?
By following Harley, I was led right to the answer to the question. A young man, younger than the Joker and the Jester. Hair and skin like the Joker's. But his features didn't quite match the Joker twins. Was this the third one?
Obtaining a DNA specimen from this third man was exceedingly difficult. It was as if he knew I was out there trying to get it. And at every turn he was avoiding my traps. But as I followed him, something else presented itself to me. He was the Red Hood. The criminal currently at the top of the GCPD's most wanted list.
The GCPD had the Red Hood's DNA. Presumably of course, since they hadn't caught him. And wouldn't you know, they were looking for the Joker. Because that's what the DNA seemed to be saying. But when I investigated it for myself, more in depth, past the chemicals, I discovered that it wasn't the Joker. It was the third brother. A half brother to the clowns.
And now I have lost Harley and the Red Hood. I think they're on the run together. But their daughter was still in the Joker's care. Why would they leave their child behind? It didn't make sense. It was a mystery. And I just had to solve it.
So I followed around "Clown the Second". I knew he was part of the Joker's organization, unlike the unnamed half brother. But Jester was on to me. He stood back and watched me watching him. He seems amused by me. Which is odd, he should be suspicious about all the investigating I've been doing. But he seems the least bit concerned by it.
And of course I found out why. Because I had to. So I walked into a diner and had a seat. Ordered lunch. Within minutes Jester is approaching my table. "Miss Julia Paradise," he smirks at me, showing me he's been doing his homework on me as well. "My, investigating works up quite the appetite, doesn't it?" He asks and sits across from me and picks up a menu.
"Uh, did I say you could sit there?" I ask him with a disgruntled look on my face.
"Well, I didn't ask," he sighs, "I figured you wouldn't mind since it keeps me in your line of view and all. I mean, you have been following me all day," he gives me a twisted little smirk. A waitress comes over to the table to take his order. "I'll have the club sandwich," he tells her, but she just stands staring at him in shock. "I can see by the look you're giving me that you think I'm him. I assure you I'm not."
She doesn't believe him and looks over at me, "He's not the Joker, he's a Joker impersonator," I tell her.
She believes me. "Is there a lot of money in impersonating the Joker?" She asks him.
Jester rolls his eyes at me. I don't think he likes being called an impersonator. But he remains cordial to the waitress, "It pays the bills." And the waitress walks away with a smile. "An impersonator?" He looks at me, "I thought you'd be more creative than that."
"A genius would think that," I say and continue eating my lunch.
"And what else has your little investigation into me revealed?" He asks seeming quite interested.
"Not much. Can't seem to match your DNA to any person in the national database," I frown, disappointed that I didn't have enough information on him. "Which tells me, whoever you were before this, you weren't a criminal."
His amused grin spreads, "Well maybe I just never got caught."
"It's possible, I suppose," I nod, "but my intuition tells me that you just don't seem to be the same as your twin."
"We're identical twins miss Paradise. I assure you I'm more like him than I care to admit," he says.
"So if you hate him so much, why do you stick around?" I can't help but ask.
He draws in a slow breath, "I was a doctor before all this. A brain surgeon. My brothers henchmen abducted me while I was out jogging before dawn. I didn't know who the Joker was before that. I didn't know I had a twin. I saved his life. In return he offered me a place at his side. At the time, his side looked like a place I wanted to be. My brothers world creates this sort of drug frenzy in people. Soon I found myself jumping into a vat of acid to be closer to that world I was quickly becoming addicted to."
"And now you're second guessing that decision?" I cock an eyebrow at him.
"Yes," he nods, "it's a classic case of the grass not being greener on the other side of the fence."
I study him a moment as the waitress returns with his food and sits it in front of him. "You're looking for your way out, aren't you?" I ask him.
"I don't know why," he shrugs, "I have nothing to go back to. No family. No job. No reversing how I look. No denying who my brother is."
I dismissively shrug, "I imagine it probably sucks looking just like a psychopathic killer."
"You have no idea," he sighs and picks up his sandwich, "but it isn't completely without it's perks either," he takes a bite.
"I'm sure. You're brother is the all powerful boss of the Gotham crime Syndicate. People fear him. Therefore they fear you," I state the obvious.
"I know Harley isn't paying you to investigate me. So why are you?" He stares at me.
"Relax, nobody hired me to follow you," I roll my eyes.
"So why are you then?" He asks.
"Just curious," I say and take another bite of my food.
He shyly smiles, "I'm not as interesting as J is."
"Sure you are," I look down.
"Why miss Paradise, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you find me attractive," he gives me a cocky smirk.
"Well I see you have your brother's ego," I frown.
"So you think like everyone else in this city, that I'm just a freak?" He raises a green brow.
He was your general stereotype of what a freak was. He didn't look, dress, talk, act, or think like everyone else. He stood out. And by that definition he was a freak. But I still have a fresh image of a naked Joker in my mind. This is his identical twin. It pains me to say that I had been visualizing him naked for about the last twenty minutes. Because I obviously did find him attractive. But I damn sure didn't want him to know it.
"I didn't say that you were a freak," I shake my head and look away.
"Would you go on a date with me?" I can hear him ask me.
"Theoretically, sure, why not," I say with a nod.
"So what time should I pick you up?" I hear him ask.
I look up and see the wide grin on his face as he waits for whatever I come up with to say. "You're being serious?" I ask.
"I don't know, am I?" He slightly cocks his head and that damn grin only grows.
"You sounded pretty serious," I note.
"Ok. So what time would you like me to pick you up then?" And his damn smirk finds a way to grow even more.
"We can't go out. I'm a professional, it would be a conflict of interest," I explain.
"How is it a conflict of interest when no one has paid you to investigate me? You're doing all that as a hobby. Remember?" Damn him and damn his fucking smile too.
I sigh. Defeated. "Fine. 7:30."
He looks at his watch as he stands. He casually pulls out his wallet and tosses a hundred dollar bill onto the table. "7:30, it is," he proudly nods and starts to walk off.
"Don't you need my address?" I call out.
"Already have it," he throws up a wave and continues out the door. Of course he already knew it.