Batman Porn Story: Rotten Day Chapter 1

Rotten
Day

By
Someone with Time On Their Hands

Summary:
Most days hes a goofy, hyper nut. Most days, hes just looking
for laughs. The rotten days however Minor crossover of TB x JL (OH
GOD THERE WERE SO MANY TYPOS.)

When
he opened his eyes he was greeted with the same multicolor brightness
of his lair. Clown baubles here, various primary-colored weapons
there, with just a smattering of cast off costumes strewn about the
warehouses floor. His freakshow mind had yet to turn all its
lights on and he was merely scrabbling to remember last night. There
had been another heist, this time to pilfer a set of porcelain
harlequin dolls. He had thought they were a bit too frilly for his
taste, but Harley had gone off her rocker when she heard about them.
The girl had squealed like a helium ducky when she saw the pictures
on the news, gushing and pleading, Oh,
Mistah J! Mistah J, can we please? Please, please, please!?

She
had flailed and backflipped and stamped her feet and flung herself
on him, arms and legs wrapped around him in a vice. He would have
said yes anyway out of sheer restlessness, but the way she had clung
to him Her red breasts pushing against his chest, her arms locked
around his neck and her vertex pressed tautly against the place just
above his pelvis. The itch struck him, and struck him hard. So he had
giddily agreed and the whole Joker clan went out to play: him, Harley
Quinn, Punch, Judy, and the hyenas. Off to the museum to graffiti and
gas and rob the place, which they did without a hitch. Until the Bat
brigade showed up. There was the traditional scuffle and banter
throwing until he, Harley and the kids escaped with the dolls,
leaving Punch and Judy to take the fall.

They
did so quietly and obediently as they always did. The Joker saw this
on the GTV news, while Harley played with her dolls, tiny bells
tinkling and porcelain clinking softly in the background. The itch
was still there. He became aware of his molls own antsiness when
he overheard some of the more interesting stories her dolls were
playing out. Oh,
Mistah Mini J, Im sooo tired.,
the little harlequin with the pink and black diamond attire sighed.
In a deeper tone she voiced the violet and lavender clown dolls
thoughts, Really,
Mini Quinn? Do you want me to tuck you in? Maybe have a bit ofpie
before we turn in?
She had opened her mouth for Mini Quinn to answer, but he snatched
the female doll from her hand.

In
a high falsetto he answered, Oh,
yes, Mini Mr. J! And by all means have seconds!
Then he had looked up deviously through his green dreads, red eyes
beaming. Harley had mirrored his look, dark lips turned up in a
cheeky smile. An instant later the mad moll was swept up into the
clown prince of crimes long arms, the owner of the latter running
at top speed to the makeshift bedroom. He had dropped her like a sack
of giggling potatoes and hopped on top of her. They raced each other
to have their clothes off first, Harley stopping at her cap and
makeup. Ever since their first date, the greasepaint, domino mask and
fabric pigtails had become her true face. Plus Joker liked it better
that way.

The
night had gone on happily, violently and blissfully.

The
way they always did before a Rotten Day.

The
evening completely recollected, the Joker popped his neck and turned
to his side. There was Miss Quinn, snoozing dreamily with the sheets
just covering her naughty bits. Her cap was crooked and her makeup
had half rubbed off on her pillow, a trail of drool snaking from the
corner of her mouth. Aaaw. The Rotten Day feeling twisted and
prickled, throwing acidic ideas through his head.

Push
her off the bed.

Smash
her new dolls.

Drop
her into one of the chemical vats.

D,
all of the above.

Yes.

No.

Yeah!

Nuh-uh.

Joker
shook his head and hauled himself out of the bed. He snapped and
popped his limbs and spine, admonishing the Rotten Day feeling for
aiming so readily on his little imp. Certainly he would give her a
bubble bath in his perma-clown vat one of these days. Most likely on
their anniversary after another splendid date. But not today, no.
This Rotten Day belonged to someone else. The way theyd belonged
to Officer Bennett, Officer Yin, Prank and countless others he
couldnt be bothered to put names to.

Harleys
Rotten Day would come, just later.

Later.

He
gave a roaring yawn and Bud and Lous ears perked up from the
corner of the room theyd occupied after he and the lady finished
their midnight playtime. Shush, kids, dont go waking Mom until
I say so. The behemoth of a clown proceeded to tug on and jump
into his clothes wondering all the while who his Rotten Day would be
for. Another member of the GCPD? Some rich fellow on the top of the
world? Perhaps a random lady off the street to break up the sausage
fest monotony? Hed just have to wait and see.

Now
dressed and ready to go he tiptoed dramatically over to the door.
Okay kids, the hyenas got to their feet excitedly, tails
wagging, go get her! Go get her! He closed the door swiftly on
the sound of cackling barks and a rudely awakened lady jester. As
bedlam went loose in the bedroom he slunk away, out of the lair and
into the garage. His hotrod waited expectantly. He got in with a
ribbon of snickering following after him as he sped through the
streets, looking this way and that for the proper nominee.

The
streets were depressingly empty, as were the sidewalks. He heard
scarcely a shriek or chortle thrown at him. His grinning maw drooped
into a grumping frown. If he didnt have a decent victim for this
Rotten Day, well, it would just get bottled up and bottled up until
Harley would just have to be–.

Hello!
The Gotham City Gala Hall loomed in the distance, glowing with lights
and various rich socialites and stars. Well, beggars cant be
choosers I suppose. The wealthy, hoity-toity types werent
nearly as fertile for going loony tunes as the common man, woman or
child. The Rotten Day feeling promptly whacked him upside the head
with a mental two by four. The malevolent metallic non-voice
whispered in his head, stronger and louder than all the usual tenants
in his skull. It whispered promises of sudden, sporadic sadism. If he
didnt get the Rotten Day itch scratched as of yesterday it would
dig out the real bogeyman lurking in the deepest darkest crevice of
his brain.

A
horrid creature that was him and wasnt him; a thing wearing his
colors over a different, sinister face. If that monster didnt get
any showtime outside of the appointed Rotten Days, well, bad things
would happen. Things completely outside of his sunny, kooky reign and
that worried the Joker on a grand level. If the Rotten Thing didnt
get its day, it would take
a week. Or a month. Or a year. Or however long it took until it was
satisfied to let his cheery self back in the drivers seat. The
Rotten Thing would do things to people, to the entire city, that
would shatter the audiences view of him as simply an off kilter
clown. They were a little spooked by him, and that was fine. The
police and the Batman knew he was nuttier than squirrel poop, and
that was fine. But the Rotten Things antics, if let loose
completely, would destroy it all.

Images
of shattering little girls spines, slicing bloody smiles into
victims, injecting all manner of horrible things into peoples
blood and stomachs flashed in his minds eye.

He
shook his head wildly and blinked them all away. But the Rotten
Thing, sat impatiently in his head, wanting its Rotten Day. Alrighty
then, lets get this show on the road!, he shrilled with sour
happiness. He revved the hotrod and leaped up onto a Lamborghinis
hood, parking on the roof. Practiced legs sprung him out of the
bizarre vehicle, bounding him off expensive car hoods all the way to
the building. In his purple coat was a myriad of lunatic weapons from
smiley face grenades to his retractable laser pogo stick. But this
calls for a more personal approach. He eyeballed the exterior
walls, noting the plethora of ornamental ledges, decorations and/or
footholds they provided.

Youd
think the city planners would learn
by now. But, he crooned as he took his first leap onto the side of
the building, fingers and toes finding instant grips, one mans
stupid architecture is another clowns ladder! Ha-ha-ha-ha!
That said he began to spider his way up to the giant open windows.
Proper, phony laughter lilted out of the open portal along with the
ghost scent of champagne and chandelier light. On a normal
daystretch the definition as you willhe would be happy to Joker
gas the lot of them and paintball the entire building. But no, no,
no, today was a Rotten Day: all attention was to be for one person
and one alone. Finally he made it to the bottom ledge of the
gargantuan window, bony white hands scrabbling to hold onto it.

Up
went his bulging red eyes, the yellow pinprick pupils scanning the
sea of plastic smiling faces. There were the pretty starlets who
slept their way into whatever higher class party it was, the tubby,
rich old men whod brought them and a few glamorous socialites who
were invited on principle of being glamorous socialites. Closest to
him was a crowd of glitzed up business folks, talking shop and
gossip. They were planted next to one of dozens of little roundtables
with silky tablecloths draping down like dresses. A candelabra sat in
its middle, guarded by a bottle of vintage he-didnt-care-what and
a few flute glasses of he-didnt-care-what around it.

The
glitzy folks were smiling their drab practiced smiles at each other,
gabbing on and on about how their businesses were going and who they
thought was sleeping with who. Oh, thrill and a half., Joker
droned. At this rate hed just have to snatch up whoever got
closest to the window. Harrumph. He was just pondering grabbing
Bruce Wayne himself or one of his pretty pieces of arm candy when he
saw the perfect candidate. Said candidate was just barely visible due
to the lifted skirt of the tablecloth falling from a fancy chairs
seat. Through the wedge of visibility he could see the little
creature huddled under the table, a bear in their tiny arms. He might
have overlooked her altogether if not for the eyes.

Her
eyes were huge, pie plate-sized things in her sockets, staring out of
her fabric window at the legs of what he suspected were her dreary
parents. On cue mommy dearest noticed the little Mary Jane-wearing
feet poking out from under the table. An evil step mother look
crossed the womans dour face and she daintily knelt down so that
her dress wouldnt touch the floor. Lacey Walch, you get out
from under there this instant!

But
I dont want to, the girls nearly nonexistent voice
protested.

Now
missy., enforced dear old dad. Lacey inched her way out from under
the cloth, her entire diminutive self revealed. She looked to be just
budding out of her toddler years, her dark hair cropped short around
her baby-faced jaw. Her glitzy attire consisted of a simple
black and white dress that reached all the way to her toes. In her
arms was the rather ragged bear and her eyes focused on its matted
fur. Her big, face-eating, black eyes. In his head the Joker had
already called dibs on her descent into crazy land. The kid in him
cringed and growled as Mrs. Walch snatched the bear away from the
girl, sharp fake tips digging into the stuffing.

I
warned you about this, Lacey. You only get Mr. Ted when you behave
and I told you not to go hiding like that. She turned her tall,
skinny back on the girl, the bear tucked under her bird wing of an
arm.

Mr.
Walch gave his daughter one last glance before ending with, Youll
get Mr. Ted back when you behave like a good girl.

Note
to self: find Walch residence and dump stinkbugs in Mr. and Mrs.
Walchs underwear drawers., he groused to himself, ruby lips
turned up in a yellow-toothed snarl. His ears pricked at the murmured
explanation from Mama Walch that Lacey was only there because they
didnt dare trust a babysitter in this town and yadda yadda yadda.
He focused back on the girl who was now groping at the air gingerly,
wanting a teddy bear to spontaneously appear in her fingers. Joker
cocked a non-brow at a champagne flute on the table near Laceys
head. It trembled on its own. Trembled all the way to the edge of the
table and thencrash!

Pricy
frou-frou alcohol went splashing everywhere, over the girls Mary
Janes and mommys heels. Lacey!, Mrs. Walch screeched in
minor scandal. Do you want to go home right now!?

Ye–.

You
go sit down and dont get into anymore trouble or youre grounded
for the week. The herd of tittering rich folks edged away from the
broken glass as a waiter came by and cleaned the mess up. Lacey
blinked rapidly, eyes going glassy. Now was as good a time as any to
lure her to the window. He puckered his lips to whistle but smothered
it just in time. A whistle could attract anyone. He just wanted the
kid. As he pulled himself closer to the wall he felt an unfamiliar
shape press against his chest. Joker risked releasing the ledge with
one hand and groped in his breast pocket for the thing. In the thrown
light he saw that it was the last harlequin doll; one hed
forgotten they even swiped.

It
was the smallest one theyd stolen and the only porcelain piece was
its face. Otherwise it was pure fluff and fabric, bending like a
noodle this way and that. The outfit was sheer monochrome, the
diamond design replaced by black spades and white hearts all over its
costume with a half-and-half harlequin cap. Cute, but too bland for
Harley and him. He smirked at the bearless, doll-less girl. Not
like Ill miss it. Ducking his head under the window he plopped
the doll on its fabric fanny, jiggling it in place. The little cap
bells jingled and jostled for about ten seconds before he saw her
little head floating closer. Closer, he could see her face. Closer,
he could see her dress. Closer, he could see her tiny hand reaching
out for the doll–. Yoinks! The Joker pulled the doll over the
ledge with him, little Lacey gasping.

Lacey
trotted over and looked down. They locked eyes: bug-eyed red with
bug-eyed black. She gasped. He twiddled his fingers at her around the
doll. Hiya, kiddo! Do you want this? He shook the doll
temptingly at her, its head mere inches from her reaching fingers.
She almost got it until she felt herself falling over the ledge.
Lacey jerked herself back, but kept her eyes jumping from Joker to
the doll. Joker pulled a moping face and crooned up at her, Aww,
dont you want the little guy? Hes not having much fun with a
big lug like me. Cmon The girl drummed her fingers anxiously
on the window ledge.

YYes.

Lean
a bit closer, Lacey dear, my hearings going. She leaned the
smallest bit closer.

Yes.
Yes, I want him, but you Youre

A
bad guy? A crook? A big, city-terrorizing jerk?, he offered. Lacey
shook her head uncaringly.

too
far away. Joker chuckled as quietly as he could and twirled the
doll in his hand.

Well,
maybe you
are. Care to blow this big, boring grown up party and have some real
fun? Tell you what, have him as a freebie. He tossed the doll up
and he could have sworn he saw the thing float into her hands. Her
mouth twitched once, twice and then a smile strained into life.
Smiles were obviously as rare as a white tiger for little Miss Walch.
Hands now full of brand new toy, Joker saw his best opening short of
just grabbing her by the scruff of her collar and hauling her away.
He held out his giant alabaster hand. So, what do you say, kid?
Her big, staring eyes paused on his face for a long second. Back to
his hand. Smoothly and slowly she planted her hand in his palm.

His
fingers swallowed her hand like a tarp around a napkin. In a swift
yank he pulled her out the window and into the crook of his arm as
easy as he would a pillow. From the corner of his eye the jester saw
Laceys face was placid but she had a death grip on the doll. Hold
on tight, keed. She nodded mutely before he jumped as hard and as
far as he could, landing with a hard thud on a car roof and leaving
foot-shaped dents. The Joker cackled as he and his willing captive
leapt back to the hotrod. He settled in easily and was happy to
discover that Lacey was small enough to curl in a ball and sit
unobtrusively in his lap. Comfy?

Mmhmm.
Oh, wasnt she a million laughs? The Rotten Thing was tempted to
just gas her now and be over with it. But she deserved some classic
fun before getting Rotten fun.

Good!
Wheeeeheeehahaa!
The hotrod zoomed off the Lamborghini and into the parking lot,
burning rubber and spewing blue fire. And so they sped off on a
kiddified version of his first date with Dr. Harleen Quinzel. The
first stop had been a candy shop where after much reassurance that it
was all on him, Lacey quickly and quietly took handfuls of hard candy
and suckers while Joker gobbled taffy and chocolate. From then on he
had to poke and probe at the girl for any suggestion of where she
wanted to go. Toy stores and bookstores were overlooked for a simple
playground in a rusted park no one went to, save for the poor kids.

As
Lacey climbed into a swing she explained, We lived here once.
When Mommy and Daddy were poor. They were too s-stressed outto
yell. She swung herself and the dollnow dubbed Mr. Mime due to
his coloringand the Joker perched himself on the one next to her.
The chains squealed in pain but he swung anyway, pretending he was
hearing true screams.

Well,
arent you a soap opera script waiting to happen? But lets talk
about something different hmm? Lets talk about jam versus jelly.
Lets talk about the merits of egging houses and putting thumbtacks
on teachers chairs. Lets talk aboutsorry, what was that?

I
saidI said you talk about kid things. Not even the other kids
talk like kids. Just about their new toys. So saying she petted
Mr. Mime. If Joker had to guess, hed say Mr. Ted had been her
favorite toy since her poverty days, with mommy and daddy trying to
substitute toys for attention.

Well,
grown up things bore me. Speaking of which, I have a decidedly
un-grown-up thing to ask you: howd you break the glass? Lacey
shook her head. Yes you did it somehow. Same with catching Mimey
over there. Howd ya do it? Im dying
of jealousy. Joker cocked a brow as she threw him a horrified
look.

Dont
die! Suddenly the fronts of his shirt and jacket tugged themselves
forward. The pair blinked in shock. Lacey ducked her head and Joker
swept a hand over his front.

Wasnt
planning to, just a figure of speech. I see you did it again, Ace.

Im
Lacey.

Youre
Ace when youre with me. Ace. Thats quite a neat trick you have
up your sleeve by the way. Could cause a heck of a lot of ghost
hoaxes. Or other things. The Rotten Thing did a little dance in
his skull, urging a certain plan to the forefront of his mind. An
antique plan certainly, but one that was guaranteed to work. But
hey, since you so graciously shared with me, its only fair I share
something with you.
Right? Lacey-Ace shrugged and darted her eyes away, face flushing.

Awww.

Right!
Howsabout you and I go to one more stop on our little road trip,
kay? He heard her mumble a yes and something along the lines of
dont have to be home so soon but he ignored this. Several
miles and an extensive, littered road away from Gotham City was the
ACE Chemical Plant. The Jokers nursery, hospital and home. He and
the Rotten Thing grinned at the memory of chemically burned skin,
throat and eyes. The snapping, growing skeleton, his face changing
structure, body hair singing off and head hair exploding into a
lions mane. Then the sudden bursts of muscle from nowhere. Biceps,
calves, abs, pecs and everything else exploding with strength and
size like a kernel becoming a piece of popcorn.

And
thenoh, then had come his brain.

Knowledge
had come first. Sudden, inexplicable technical data and understanding
that ranked at and above Stephen Hawking level had erupted like a
conflagration. But mostly, mostly,
it was epiphany. The Joker would later compare it to a child working
on a confounding math problem of 2 plus 2, then realizing it made 4.
That was what happened on a gigantic scale in his brainimmense,
irreversible, impossible understanding.
But as the intelligence came, memory went. Or more, it had been
broken like a ceramic tile, and those shards were shattered, and
those pieces became dust, and those dust particles became mist. Ever
since, those teensy bits of memory mist had been squished and pushed
together a million times to try and come up with a solid origin of
who he had been. And every time he mentally re-smashed the product,
knowing it wasnt true. All he could recall of his time pre-clown,
was wanting people to laugh and what hed looked like before his
makeover.

To
make up for this, two final ingredients had made their way in. Lunacy
being one. Giggly, goofy, guffawing craziness and his jubilation in
it.

The
second was the Rotten Thing. The evil, slimy, angry-happy Thing that
he was sure had been there all along.

Anyway.

Ta-daa!
The ACE Chemical Plant, beautiful birthplace of moi., he
flourished to himself with a bow. Ysee? This place is named
just for you, Acey! Lets take a looksee inside, shall we?
Lacey-Ace agreed silently and didnt resist when he pulled her
inside the dilapidated building by her empty hand.

As
her gaping eyes took in the foul, dripping, sharp and otherwise icky
scenery of the building, she had to ask, Why are we here, Mr.
Joker? Red eyes turned down to beam at her, watching as she hugged
Mr. Mime closer.

To
help you, ya silly nut! Why else?

It
smells likelike sick things here. Like a really bad hosptal.

Heh-heh.
Yes, it always did have a lovely aroma. But, smelly or not, theres
something very important here, Ace. Or rather, up there. One pasty
finger pointed up to the brim of a giant steel vat. Lacey-Aces
nose wrinkled and she sneezed.

I
think thats where the smelly stuff is. The Joker smiled and
prepared to answer when a sudden spark of pain twinkled in his head.
The Rotten Thing was getting very, very
impatient. Impatient in a way that warned that if he didnt get on
with it soon, little Miss Lacey Ace Walch wouldnt get off as lucky
as he was letting her. Impatient in a way that said the Rotten Thing
would just drown her instead. Maybe carve a big bloody smile on her
straight little face. Maybe screw his kooky clown image from here to
Timbuktu and show the world just how horribly monstrous and sadistic
he could be. In short: get
on with it.

Joker
managed a quick giggle before scooping her up and speed-climbing the
rusty latter to the stinking vats rim. Sure enough, there was the
alien green glow of what he lovingly dubbed the Clown Chemical.
Although others had taken to calling it the Monster Mix, the
producers of the concoction swiftly putting a ban on it for what it
did to those exposed to it. Him being Exhibit A, of course. The Joker
cleared his throat and gingerly sat the girl on the rim, her Mary
Janes half a foot away from the glowing toxin. Well, most
veggies stink too, but those are good for you. Sos this gunk.
The Joker waved a hand grandly over the ocean of semi-poison, red
eyes glinting.

Lacey-Ace
leaned her thin back harder into his callused hands, her thin line of
a mouth quirking uncomfortably. But it doesnt look edbull.
Eatable. I mean

Edible?
Sure it is! I took a bath in it and guzzled I dont remember how
many gallons and look how I turned out! Lacey-Ace turned a
different facial expressiongasp!on him, one of incredulity.

But
I dont want to be a clown. I wantI want to be Her eyes
clouded over and once again she left him the perfect opening. The
Joker bowed his head confidentially to the small shell of her ear,
Lacey-Ace eyeing him wonderingly.

You
want to be stronger., his baritone supplied. She nodded dreamily
and he mimicked it. Stray locks of green hair fell around his face,
framing him like prison bars and making his vermillion eyes stand out
in dark sockets. You want to have control. For mommy and daddy to
not be solike themselves around you. Right, Ace?

Right.
Lacey-Ace said this with utter confidence, her mouth drawn open in
wistful readiness. How can it make me stronger? Lacey-Ace went
rigid but didnt fight as he positioned her further over the vat,
dipping her face towards the green goo.

Drink.
No silly additional phrases or flourishes necessary. Just the simple
command: drink. First she stuck out her tongue and licked it. She
shuddered and he and the Rotten Thing were sure theyd have to hold
her head under. Instead they were rewarded with the phantom sound of
itty bitty lips slurping up something that had the consistency of a
slurpee.

Sloorp.

Sloorp.

Sloorp.

Sloooorrrp.

All
done?

Ace?
Still no answer. The Rotten Thing began to grin its scarred, red grin
while the rest of him recoiled inside. This wasnt supposed to
happen when he was in control. It wasnt supposed to! Everything
was supposed to be light and funny and maybe hilariously violent, but
notnot this. No, no, no, no, no–!

HA
HA HA,
laughed the Rotten Thing. In his mind he could see it leaning its
greasy, rancid head into the multicolor light of his brain. Its green
hair was grassy and snarled and framed its painted face, the smile
there constantly bleeding.

HA
HA HA,
laughed the Rotten Thing as the Joker pulled the unmoving little body
into his arms, her face turning to reveal stained-black lips. The
Rotten Thing showed more of itself in mockery, flashing the flowing,
black-violet of its coat, the ends curling and smoking into unfunny
ebony.

HA
HA HA,
laughed the Rotten Thing as Ace stretched in his armswait. The
Rotten Thing grumbled to itself as the dozens of hundreds of other
Jokers laughed it away. Ace stretched in his hold as if from a nap
and she even yawned, not once releasing Mr. Mime.

Hooh!,
the Joker sighed with a decent glaze of ah-I-was-never-worried
chuckle, I thought youd gone and conked out on me, keed. How
dyou feel? The newly blackened lips parted in a sigh, the
chemicals thick on her breath like liquor on a lushs. Then her
eyes opened and he knew the gunk had done its job. That nifty trick
of hers, the baby-sized telekinesis, was neat all on its own. But
amplified by the Clown Chemical, Monster Mix, Evil Elixir or
what-have-you, it would be like having an A-bomb in a little girls
brain. And that, in his book, was downright hilarious.

Back
to her eyes, the black irises were gone, as were the whites. In their
place was a beautiful throbbing, shifting orange-yellow blaze. They
pulsed in hypnotic circles, shifting and growing and moving and
swirling and-and-and-and-and-a-a-a-a-a-aaaaaaaandddd—!!!

Aroundaroundthemulberrybushthemonkeychasedtheweaselthemonkeysaidtwasallinfun.

POP!

MouthofmadnessgashofmadnesspitofmadnesstorrentofmadnesswhirlwindofmadmadMAD

Herealicewerreallmadheremadasahatterwescatterandshatterandsmatterand–.

The
Joker snapped his eyes shut and shook his head for what seemed like
the billionth this evening. When he peeked them open again Aces
eyes were back to their relative normalcy, now with added insomnia
shadows under her eyes. Neat. The girls black mouth quirked up a
bit. A little more. A lot more. Until she grinned, pearly child teeth
bared. A voice, a voice very much like Aces if it echoed, sounded
in his head: I
feel great!
On great the pair lifted into the air like balloons, the clown
pinwheeling his arms for balance. Still speaking directly into his
mind she squealed, I
have real power now, Mr. Joker! I have real power andandI know
how to do things now! Amazing things like–!
She reached out her hand and aimed it at the vat. A small piece of
the rusted metal jiggled like pudding until it tore itself out and
flew to her outstretched palm. In her tiny pink hand in transformed
and folded and flattened into a shining silver hair clip in the shape
of a clover. She pinned this in her hair as if she were putting on a
dress-up queens crown.

Ace
floated closer to the Joker, her smile wide enough to split her face
as she prattled. And
this! Look at this!
This was her fanning out her arms and an immense LSD-esque
environment where the chemical plant used to be. It was like having
the Jokers brain on the outside. With a snap of her fingers it
disappeared. You
were right Mr. Joker.,
she sighed mentally as she hugged him as best she could around his
shoulders, I
can do whatever I want now, no matter what mommy and daddy say. No
matter what anyone says! All thanks to you, Mr. Joker. You were so,
so right.
Had he been a sane man, the Joker would be feeling utterly schmoopy
right now, warm fuzzies and all. Seeing as that wasnt the case:

Of
course I was, ya nutty girl!, he brayed with a bear hug back.
Now do a clown a favor and set us down. Ace did so silently,
not letting the man go. So youve got your economy-sized brain
power with an extra hallucination flavor. Good on ya Acey, but why
talk in my head? Ace shrugged and looked up at him uncaringly.

Ive
never talked much anyway. But now I cant
talk. Im moot. Myewt. Er

Mute.
Well crud, that didnt happen to me. A thousand pardons and all
that, but at least youve got the spiffy lip job to make up for
it. Ace quirked a brow before imagining a mirror in front of her
and puckering. She nodded approvingly and waved the mind mirror away.
Talk about a little power pack. Hed had to wait an entire
excruciating week until he got the hang of himself and here shed
caught the whole deal in seconds. So now there was a mentally
unstable little cutie in the world, as she said, all thanks to him.
The Rotten Thing rolled its eyes in its dark corner, sated for its
Rotten Day quota. For now. The odd couple walked out into the starry
night, the Joker deciding he might as well throw in the join Team
Joker line while he was at it. He opened his mouth to ask but was cut
off by a hand over his crimson mouth.

Ace
had levitated up to do so, still holding Mr. Mime, still smiling
silently. Not
yet, Mr. Joker. I probably will one day. But not right now. I have my
own things to do first.
Her eyes flashed that insane orange-yellow again and he felt a proud
tingle roll down his spine. She brought her hand away and the Joker
giggled with resignation.

Cant
win em all I suppose. But Im holding you to that future
playdate. Comprehende? Ace nodded yes and began to drift up and
away towards the moon, her hairclip giving off a soft flare. As she
shrunk to a mere dot in the sky he heard one last message.

The
Rotten Things bluffing, you know. Its just a bully throwing a
tantrum because hes stuck in timeout. With all the other yous in
there hes outnumbered a million to one.
Then she was gone. Somewhere inside he could hear the Rotten Thing
gnashing its piranha teeth in indignation and for the first time in a
long time, he brushed it off. Speeding back to the lair, he checked
off what he hoped, and somehow knew, was his last Rotten Day.