The Last Laugh

Gotham City Police had come a few moments after The Joker had left in all his glory. I was leaning against the wall, dazzled, by his…his…god I didn't know how to explain it. Everything about him was amazing. How was he able to plan all of this? Since when was Jirk working for him? All sorts of questions were buzzing in my head like a swarm of bees. Angry, pissed off bees. I watched as they sky turned pink as the sun began to set.

"Dr. Quinzel?" an officer asked me. I turned to face him, lazily. I had no interest in this man. Then again, maybe I could get some information out of him.

"Yeeeeah?" I asked childishly, batting my eye lashes over my baby blue eyes. The officer swallowed. Hm, he was kinda chunky. An image of him pursuing a walking donut popped into my mind, and I giggled, causing him to blush. He had brown, balding hair, and a little toothbrush mustache. The policeman took out a handkerchief and dabbed his sweating face.

"Y-You were the, the, uh," he stuttered at me, and I tilted my face to the side. "His doctor, r-right?" I nodded my head exuberantly. The officer looked down, and then looked back up. I followed his eyes. He was, well let's just say, 'happy.' The officer turned around and walked away from me, jiggling like jelly. I had to keep myself from laughing. Well HE was a waste of time. Another officer came over, but this time I recognized him. He'd been around the asylum before, talking to some of the patients who were associated in who knows what. I never had the pleasure of meeting him.

"Dr. Quinzel?" Lieutenant Gordon said to me, and judging by the look on my face, he wasn't going to fall for any of my tricks. I sighed and nodded my head with less enthusiasm. "You were the psychopath's doctor, right?"

"Yes, Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Lieutenant." I told him, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He shook it.

"I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Alrighty, what do you need to know about me?" I asked, taking a seat in the security guard's desk. Gordon sat on the desk with a notepad and a pencil.

"How did he act during your sessions?" was his first question.

"Bored." I stated.

"Did he ever say anything or do anything…" he searched for the right word. "Disturbing?"

"Ahuh." I told him, and he looked at me expectantly. "He was always messing with my mind. He asked if I wanted to see a trick, and he flashed his hands through the air," I demonstrated this to him. "And his hand cuffs were gone. When security came, they were back on him. Then, another time, he was walking around in the room, telling me a story about how he got his scars, when he put his hand on my shoulder and put, what felt like a knife to my cheek. I screamed for security, and it was gone."

"Are you alright?" he asked me, looking a little startled.

"Yes," I told him, looking at him curiously. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he began to explain. "You sounded as if you were dazed and confused. Do you need some sleep?" I shook my head.

"Alright then," he said, more relaxed. "I understand that after that last situation you told me about, Dr. Reynolds told you to go home?" I nodded. "And then told you to come back?" I nodded again, feeling as bored as The Joker must've looked whenever I talked to him. "Why?"

"Because he told me that The Joker would talk to no one else but me," I informed him, a little smugly.

"And you willingly came back?"

"Yep."

"Why?" he inquired curiously.

"Because during my little break, I went to go to the store to buy some groceries, when some big guy pulled me into an alleyway and gave me a joker card. On the back of it someone wrote, 'I miss you.'" I explained to him in one breath.

"Do you still have this card?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"I left it in the room that we were in."

"We searched the room. There was nothing in there." Gordon informed me. "I think you need to be protected from The Joker. It seems he knows where you live."

"I'll be ok," I moaned, brushing my blond hair behind my ear. "I'm sure he has more important things to do than to stalk me."

"We're not taking any chances. We are going to have police escort you to your home and have a guard around your house," Lieutenant Gordon told me, all official-like. I shook my head, protesting.

"I don't think he's going to come to my house!" I hollered, but secretly hoped that he would.

"Sorry, police precaution."

I was sitting on my bed again as I was before, but this time annoyed. One of the police officers was in my kitchen, raiding my vacant fridge. I could hear him cussing under his breath about there being no food, and I grinned to myself, secretly glad that I did not go to the grocery store yesterday.

There was nothing good on tv, so I flipped it off and walked over to my computer in the corner. I checked my email, and saw that there was only one unread message. It was from the asylum, the weekly newsletter. I clicked it open, and it said the asylum was going to reopen again tomorrow, and we could all return. Then there was a reminder about the 30th annual Arkham Asylum Masquerade Ball that was this weekend. I squealed to myself, and the officer looked at my suspiciously. I rolled my eyes at him. I LOVED the annual masquerade ball! I loved to get all dressed up and have no one know who I am for a whole night. I sighed happily, but then scowled. I don't have a date this year. My boyfriend was behind stupid freeking bars. Only one other person came to mind, but that was an impossibility. A, I had no idea where he was. B, there was no way that I could contact him. And C, he was being hunted down by the GCP. I sat back in my chair in a huff. There was no way I could find a date in two days. I didn't even have a costume yet.

Next to my computer where it was charging, my phone vibrated.

One New Text Message It read. I flipped open my little red razor and read the message.

'I MISS YOU.'

I smiled to myself. Should I respond? I called over the police officer.

"What?" he grumbled.

"Play rock, paper, scissors with me, ok Chuck?" I commanded, holding my right hand in my left palm.

"It's Charlie…" he mumbled, but held out his hand so it mimicked mine. If he won, I didn't respond. If I won, I did respond.

"Rock, paper, scissors!" I yelled, and he won. He had rock, I had scissors. I scowled. "Best two out of three!"

Lucky me, I won the next to rounds. I shouted my thanks and returned to my computer, texting away on my phone.

'MISS YOU 2' I sent to him. I thought for a second, and sent him another text. This one saying:

'GOT A DATE 4 THE MASQUERADE BALL AT THE ASYLUM THIS WEEKEND?'

I waited a whole hour for him to respond and: nothing. I sighed and put my phone back down.

The Joker's beautiful white face kept flashing through my mind. What was it about him that drew me to him? His geniusness? His bad boy aura? Or maybe it was that purple coat of his. I had no idea.

I decided that I should take a shower, to clear my head. I grabbed a pair of blue flannel pj bottoms and a blue shirt along with a green towel. I spent the next half hour surrounded by steam and hot water.

When I was finished, I put my pj's on and stepped out into my room, squeezing the water out of my hair with a towel.

Chuck was sitting at my kitchen table, rather motionless. I knew SOMETHING had to be up. I slowly and cautiously walked towards him and stopped when I saw the front of him. He had three cuts on him. Two were on either side of his mouth. The third was his throat, which was slit open, and blood was splattered all over him and my good kitchen table. A normal person would probably freak out and scream. No such urges hit me.

I backed up slowly to my bed and climbed on top of it. What to do now? I probably had to run outside and call the police. Then I took a glance at the sliding glass doors that led out to my little veranda. On the doors, written in blood, most likely Chuck's, was the message:

'SEE YOU THERE.'

Blood was sliding down from each letter, creating red veins on my door. A smiley face was drawn next to it. I walked over to it and touched it, leaving my fingerprint in the smiley face. I went to the bathroom and washed my hands, and then decided I had to tell the others that were outside.

I opened my front door, it was like a massacre had occurred. There were five guards slain against the wall and on the floor. Blood was smeared down the hallway. I could see that someone dipped their hand in the blood and walked down the hallway, gently gliding their hand along the wall. Each was killed a different way. One officer's shoulder was pinned to the wall with a knife. One had his throat slit open. Another was stabbed in the heart, another had a knife in his head. One guard, the leader of the group, had his stomach slit open, and I could see some of his organs dangling out. It was a gruesome sight. Another message was on the wall directly across from me. This one said:

'KEEP ON SMILING.'

Lieutenant Gordon had me immediately removed from my home and placed in a hotel. I told him I wasn't going to leave town, and that I was going to go to the masquerade. He allowed me to stay in town, but didn't grant my second wish. Like he was going to stop me.

I still had to find a costume, and the ball was tomorrow. It was October, so it shouldn't be too hard finding a costume store. First I had to avoid the fuzz. That shouldn't be too hard, either, because of my gymnastic skills. I escaped my prison via my window and drain pipes. For the first time in three days, I was alone. There were no guards to 'protect' me.

I walked down the dark streets of Gotham, searching for a good store. I finally found one that said: THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX. I figured that this was my best bet.

I pushed the door open, and heard the little tinkling of a bell. The little welcome mat that I stepped on shrieked at me. This was sure a creepy-ass store. Everything was black; the walls, the carpeting, the shelves, everything. Terrifying clown masks hung from the wall, along with voodoo dolls and fake torture devices. I waltzed up to one the shelves and began my quest for the perfect costume.

"May I help you?" someone asked from behind me. I turned around and nodded my head. It was a man, who looked about forty, forty five years old. He had a full head of black hair that was short and spikey. He was wearing a tight black shirt and black skinny jeans. I shuddered. I hated when guys wore those tight pants. Made them look like girls. He looked at me with hazel eyes, eyeing me as if I was a piece of candy.

"Yes!" I said cheerfully. "I'm looking for a costume to wear at a masquerade ball."

His smirk was gone. He looked at me a little fearfully.

"Is your name Harleen?" he asked shakily, and I nodded my head slowly. How did he know?

"Your, uh, friend came in here earlier," he began to explain to me. "He told me to give you this." Creepy-pants went behind his counter and pulled out a purple and green vertically striped bag. I couldn't tell what was inside. He handed it to me carefully, and I took it. I peered inside and saw a hanger. I picked it up, and out came a long one-piece. It was almost like a checkerboard of black and red, except there was only four squares. The suit connected to a head piece that looked like a jester's hat. At the bottom of the bag was a simple white mask made to look like a clown. A happy, cheerful clown. I smiled at it. It was perfect.

I looked back up at Creepy-pants and asked, "Did you catch the guy's name?"

He shook his head.

"He only left this." He held up a joker card. Ah, of course.