Turning The Tables

BY : twofacetoo
Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman
Dragon prints: 2758
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Batman', nor do I own any of the characters featured, and no money or profit is made from this fan-fiction.

Author's Note:

Like all good stories, the first few chapters is merely setup, so nothing sexual as of yet. This is an attempt to put together one of the darkest stories I've ever thought of. I'm sure it isn't much to others but this is new territory for me, so here we go, once more into the breach.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The trap wouldn’t have fooled a child, but Harleen Quinzel wasn’t that much brighter than a piece of wood, even on her best days.

It had been easy. The Joker had been hitting a series of chemical warehouses and factories, acquiring various chemicals to manufacture his unique brand of poison gas, his patented ‘Joker Venom’.

According to Jason’s calculations, the same ones Batman had been running on the Batcomputer at the exact same time, the only ingredient left was an extract of calcium paired with sodium dioxide, a staple of Gotham’s polluted rivers thanks to the ever-negligent Ace Chemicals.

The trap itself was easy. There was enough CCTV footage and archived TV reports of the Joker that it took Jason a matter of minutes to splice together a convincing mimic.

Then, on the night of the Ace Chemicals raid, as Batman swooped in to fight the chemical fire the Joker had started as a distraction, Jason, in the guise of the Red Hood, kept a keen eye on the clown princess, Harley Quinn.

She wasn’t carrying the chemicals, undoubtedly the Joker was planning on leaving her behind to be captured by the police again. Joker himself had taken the chemicals and sprinted for the exit once the flames had begun to spread.

Harley had gone a different direction, to lure Batman away, but it wasn’t going to work. The tactic was old and cheap, one the Dark Knight Detective knew far too well to be fooled by.

And so as he chased after the Joker, Jason, unbeknownst to Batman, followed Harley through the factory.

The idiot girl had managed to run herself into a dead-end, and was too busy trying to find a way out to notice Jason sneaking along behind her. Every step she took, he mirrored. Every move she made, he followed, until he had her in his sights.

While Batman relied on the most advanced Waynetech could offer, Jason had made do with an outdated Casio cassette-tape recorder, which he’d jury-rigged to a small speaker. And, when the moment was right, he pressed ‘Play’.

“Harley!” The Joker’s voice seemed to whisper from the tape. “Over here!”

The sound echoed around the factory, giving no clear indication where it came from.

“Puddin’?” She replied, looking around for the source of the voice.

“I’m over here!” The voice called again, from its position under a conveyer belt. Jason had spent the previous night scouting a good location, and had picked the perfect one. The conveyer belt was in the middle of the factory floor, easy to reach, but low to the ground and hard to get under. The trap was so simple anyone but Quinn would have worked it out in an instant.

But Harley Quinn was never too smart.

“Harley!” The Joker’s voice said again, this time more pained and gasping. “The Bat, he got me! I think he’s still here!”

Harley was creeping towards the conveyer belt, Jason watching from the rafters. The golden moment was coming up, he’d prepared meticulously for this day, and it was all going perfectly.

“Puddin’, where are-”

“Get over here and help me, you idiot!” The voice snapped, and Harley fell silent, rushing over to the conveyer belt. Jason almost felt sad for the bitch, that line was the one he felt was a little too over-the-top, yet it seemed the most convincing to her.

Quinn got down on her knees and peered under the machinery, looking for the Joker.

“Harley…” The voice called again, gasping and gurgling like a death-rattle.

“Puddin’! Where are you?!” Harley wailed, peering into the darkness. But the tape had ran out. And without wasting another moment, Jason pounced on her.

While he and Batman had been investigating the different chemical warehouses, Jason had liberated enough illicit substances to make his own customised version of chloroform, a more powerful and faster-acting form, something Batman himself had been proud of.

With a large cloth sheet soaked in this formula, Jason dropped silently behind Quinn, and threw the cloth around her face, drawing it tight and constricting her breathing. She let out a yelp of surprise, but barely struggled. The cloth covered her entire head, the only thing she could inhale was the fumes of the knock-out formula.

And, within seconds, Harleen Quinzel fell limply to the factory floor, completely unconscious.

Sometime later the police arrived. The Joker had, of course, gotten away, as Batman had been snared by a new trap the Joker had devised, some sort of glue-covered spider-web that Batman had charged through, believing it to be merely another cobweb in the decrepit factory.

Gordon put out a manhunt for the Joker, as he often did, but it was a fruitless effort. Both he and the Dark Knight knew nobody ever called in with a sighting. Even those who did see the Joker were too terrified of him to do anything about him.

But nobody noted the disappearance of Harley Quinn.

 

*                                   *                                   *

 

“Wake the fuck up.”

Harley’s vision began to clear slowly, the entire world was spinning. She couldn’t remember anything, except, of course, for her beloved Joker calling her name. But where…?

Then she remembered the factory, and realised she wasn’t able to talk. Some funny-guy had stuck a bit of tape over her face! And to make it worse, her wrists and ankles were stuck too!

She looked up, and saw a tall figure in a black jacket, with some sort of bright-red head. She would have laughed if she could have said anything at all.

The figure crouched down, looking into her face. She saw his head wasn’t actually red at all, it was a helmet, a shining metal helmet with two narrow, sinister slits for eyes.

“Do you know me?” He asked. Harley shook her head, beginning to feel the tendrils of fear creeping into her heart.

“Yes you do. You know me. You know me well. But by another name.”

He turned, walking over to something out of Harley’s eye-line.

“I don’t know how often your boyfriend talks about his life. Hell, knowing him he never shuts up about it. But of all the things he’s done, the one thing he never talks about is what happened to me. Is he ashamed of it? No way, he’s furious. Because it didn’t work. Because I’m here, now, I’m back again.”

The masked figure walked back into Harley’s line of sight, now holding something she couldn’t make out.

“So I’ll tell you my story, bitch.”

Harley began to mumble out a reply when suddenly a boot crashed into her stomach, causing her to jerk and twist in pain. Her hands were tied behind her back, she had no way of defending herself.

“See, here’s what happened. When I was a little boy, I got adopted. And then your boyfriend came along, and ruined my life. He didn’t just hurt me… he killed me.”

Another kick, this time to her knees. Harley felt tears prickling at her eyes, but the figure continued.

“See, my adoptive daddy had upset your big bad boyfriend, so rather than take it out on him… he took it out on me. He killed me just to hurt him.”

His voice took on a darker, more sinister tone.

“He used me, just to hurt someone else that loved me. Can you imagine that, Quinn? In your final moments, knowing that you were just a tool for someone else’s misery and pain?”

He looked down at her, as she looked up at him, fear and pain in her eyes.

“Well, if you can’t… I’ll help you understand.”

Another kick, this time to her stomach again, then he brought his foot up and stamped down on her arm, his toughened leather boots tearing at her cheap spandex costume.

“Because I’m not just going to hurt you, Quinn. I’m going to make you cry. I’m going to make you bleed. And I’m going to make you wish you were dead. And then, when your boyfriend is watching… I’ll kill you in front of him. And I’ll make you know just how it feels to die, knowing deep down, in your beaten, battered heart… that nobody cares about you anymore.”



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