The Universe's Mixer

Jack was disappointed when the City started moving again. He had very much liked the stillness. Not because it was easier. No. But because of the chaos it caused. He'd never seen people so upset. The citizens who were raised here like cattle were in absolute panic. It had been delicious and lovely to watch. He hadn't even needed to lift a hand.

Now, of course, now everybody was settled again. Happy.

He hadn't even gotten to go see that stupid conference where the City guy answered questions. He'd known that too many who knew his face would be there, and he wasn't quite ready for any kind of fight or confrontation. Not quite all the way healed from his time being dead. Again. But shortly after the streets began to move again, he decided he didn't care. His ribs hurt, but this place needed a shake up.

Jack stood in the street looking at the Wayne building. Bruce Wayne was not inside, he now knew. Bruce Wayne would have never tried to kill him. Bruce Wayne was too soft for that. Whoever was playing Batgames currently was not anybody he knew at all. They were a mystery to crack. A new foe to get to know and find the weakness of. All in all, not a completely bad deal. Perhaps a little lopsided, since the Batimpersonator seemed to have friends who knew him.

There were a couple of places he knew to look for them. Here was one of them, the clocktower was another. He would leave notes at both, he decided. That was the best way to get their attention. Short of letting all the animals out of the zoo, which was actually not a half bad idea. Maybe later.

Using the brightest green he could find in spray paint, Jack went at the wall of the Wayne building. He left "Come Play With Me" in the biggest letters he could manage on the ground, and then ran off toward the tower. There, he left the note "TAG! You're IT!"

They weren't his normal fare, no curse words, no taunting. But they were along the lines of the personal ad he'd left. If they were smart, they'd know exactly who had come to visit.

To the Bat in my Belfry: I know you're not the one. And you smell so pretty.

He stumbled out of the false brightness of the corridor into the real sunlight, stopping to let his eyes adjust while he covered them partially with one hand. The other stayed on the door to steady him. He wasn't quite strong enough to be as disoriented as he was while remaining upright. He might not be for some time, really.

It had been a long journey.

From the pained struggles of trying to remove himself from the wreckage of the asylum, crawling, passing out, crawling again, all the while through debris and his own poisons. Pulling himself by the strength of his arms alone across the bridge from the island to ... well, he supposed it was really just a bigger island, wasn't it? That had taken him a while to do. Days may have passed. He couldn't be completely sure. His sense of time after confronting the Batfuck and Special Friends had gone pretty south. There had been a good deal of pain, and maybe some laughter - his own, of course - but time was nothing to him then.

Once to the main land, he had thrown himself into a street. It hadn't been one of his most clever ideas, admittedly. But he didn't know what else to do. He was still bleeding fairly freely, he couldn't feel parts of himself, all he wanted was somebody to not run him over.

Lucky for him, somebody hadn't. Somebody had seen him laying there, somebody had stopped. Somebody had loaded him into a vehicle, and somebody had taken him to the hospital. Somebody had checked him in, somebody had even stayed with him until they were sure that he was going to live. Somebody had never returned for a thanks, but somebody may have done a great disservice to The City with their act of charitable kindness.

Doctors had taken care of him, nurses had seen to his needs. Many episodes of Judge Judy had come and gone. Much Jell-o eaten. They called him John Doe, because he couldn't quite remember who he was. They made him well again, helped him to get strong enough to stand and then walk on his own. They brought him real clothes, gave him the tools to clean himself up. Then they discharged him. He insisted that he wasn't sure of himself yet, they said to check in if he wasn't feeling well, but he needed to get back to life.

As he walked out into the daylight, into the City once again, he was sure of something very important that he had kept from his caretakers. He knew who he was. He knew what had happened. And he knew that he was very upset about it all.

Arkham Asylum loomed into view as Dinah pulled her car to a stop near the entrance to the bridge. The gothic looking manor that housed the asylum awaited them on the island, seemingly quiet from the outside.

Dinah waited for everyone else to catch up, her eyes sweeping the streets for any sign of the Batmobile. She tapped her communicator once to connect with the Clocktower.

"Are we up and running, Fred?"

She still wasn't completely confident in the plan. A part of her worried that she was just sending the people she cared about to their deaths-or worse, knowing the Joker. But she had to try, had to believe that Jake was in there and could be saved.

Jack pranced around the City, gleefully holding a can of spray paint in the most obnoxious color of green he could find. He'd been going around all day leaving little notes for his beloved Son. The sweet, darling protege he'd created. The spawn of his machinations. The seed of his... well. Not his loins. Brains didn't have seed as far as he knew, but that's where the little tyke had sprung from.

The notes didn't make a lot of sense to the outside world. They weren't all enormous either. Just a smile here, and exclamation point there. Maybe a glorious green sign shouting "GOOD JOB!" or "Daddy loves you!" Anything to urge the little guy on in his horrors.

He sprayed one now that stated "Remember Gray Dick!" hoping that the little Robin was still in, or back in, town. Wanting the boy to have a go at him. Scar him up. Destroy him a little bit.

Jack's hands were covered in green. It reminded him of when he'd spray painted the penii on the walls oh, so long ago. The silent conversation with Big Dark And Broody who was not a Batfuck of any kind. What a strange time that had been. Had it really been that far in the past?

"Razors for everybody!" Jack painted on a park bench and skipped away.

"Water's good for many things!" on the side of a little girl's wagon. She began to cry, and Jack patted her head and stole her lolly, then moved on.

( ''After my haircut, can we go out and play, Father?'' Jake's smile was sharp, eyes sharper than a 'Riza. ''I want to play.'' )

Jack worked on the boy. Day and night. No regard to anybody's sleeping habits, not even his own. He didn't keep things on any kind of schedule, he didn't want the boy to be ready for anything. Ever. So whenever he thought of something, Jack was at Jake's door, ready to play. Ready to bring the brat pain like he'd never known in his life, and confusion that would addle his brain and destroy his reality.

But whatever Jack did, he cleaned up after. When the boy was crying, twisted in agony and sweating, ready to give in to the darkness of unconsciousness, Jack would stop. He would leave the room and return with items to help the boy recover. Cold water, food, bandages, soothing ointments. He tended to the wounds and spoke in soft tones. Called him a good boy, a strong boy. Told him that things would be okay. This was in direct contradiction to the things that he said when he was doing the great amounts of harm, those things tended to hover around Jake being hopeless, that nobody loved him, that nobody was coming for him, that he was a brat, weak, cowardly.

The juxtaposition couldn't be any more massive if a team of psychologists were standing by to give Jack aid.

Sometimes, Jack didn't feed the boy. Sometimes, he brought him fantastic meals of the sorts that little boys loved. On the days when Jake got no food, Jack didn't even bother to taunt him about it. He just left the room and didn't come back. But on the days when the feasts were given, Jack coddled the boy and petted him. Some days the boy got regular meals. Maybe only one would be skipped. Maybe days would go by before he got another.

Nothing was consistent.

It was just the way Jack liked it.

When Jack got the boy back to the asylum, the first thing he was strap the kid down in one of the beds made to restrain more difficult patients. The second thing he did was tend to the wounds the hyenas left. He had plans for the boy, after all, and him bleeding to death didn't count among them. He then left for a little while to fix the hyenas up best he could and then return them to where he'd found them. He didn't think that he'd need them for the rest of this.


( After all, he had Jake's little creature. )

( Jack gets a new toy. )

Jack took the bouquet that Dinah had put together to where he thought Harley would find them the quickest. Where she'd last left her hyenas. Along with the flowers was a diamond necklace. He'd seen it as he was walking by a store and just bashed the window in to get it. More than likely, she was going to read far too much into all of this, but it was a fair exchange probably.

Because he was going to take the hyenas without asking.

And he was going to use them to track down Jake.

If they got hurt, he'd never hear the end of it. So it was best that he start the borrowing out with elaborate gifts of the sort that he'd never given her before. Like big elaborate bouquets of flowers that looked like a drying blood puddle in coloring and a necklace that was worth more than a few thousand dollars.

He'd also written out a quick note so she would know who had absconded with her babies.

Harl,

Borrowed the hyenas. Need them for a while. Will return them as in tact as possible.

Love,
J

With the pair pulling him along, Jack headed in the direction of the school.

Much had happened for Jack in the past while. Nothing many might find exciting. But he'd gotten the Asylum back. He'd fixed his hair. It was a shame that Harley hadn't been there to do it. She would have done it better. Made sure that the green roots weren't showing. Hard to be sneaky when your hair was bright green. But House hadn't been able to fix that part. No. It was black dye for Jack. She would have also made sure the mohawk was straight. He'd had to kill a guy for that.

But it was alright now.

And now Jack was exploring the City again. Out and about again. Looking for people. Seeing who was still left over. Seeing who was new. It was a good thing to get acquainted with the people of the town you loved to terrorize. Better to know who to run from and who you could torment for a good long while. He hadn't seen any sign of Brucey. Which was a little sad. But then again, there were no little Robins around either. So no little boys were getting touched in their no-no places. Dirty Bats.

He actually wasn't having any luck at all finding faces he knew. Not from his own special universe and not from his previous times. There had to be somebody here that he knew, it was just rediculous that it wouldn't happen. It probably just meant that the City had other plans for them right now and was keeping him away so that it could have it's own fun for a while. Then it would let him have them, and well... then all would be happy.

Jack was about to start looking for somebody to take his frustrations out on when he spotted a familiar sign. A familiar sign that brought back very beautiful memories.

"Oh my!" Jack exclaimed, fanning his hand over his face in a dramatic fashion. The picture of Southern excitement. "My dear, if you are not in there waiting for me, I am going to be disappointed."

Nearly skipping, he crossed the street, through traffic of course, not caring to go the extra five feet to the crosswalk. As horns blared, Jack displayed the finger that would tell them all what he thought of them, and combined with his manic grin, they didn't even consider getting out of their cars to confront him.

He peered into the window and spied a familiar blond head of hair. Attached, of course, to a familiar face. With relish, Jack flung the door wide open and sauntered inside. Oh, what a good game this was going to be!

To think. His first adventure out and he gets to play with Dinah Lance!

It wasn't the first time that Jack had taken over Arkham. Likely, knowing this city and the goddamned heroes that inhabited it, it wouldn't be the last. They'd keep putting people in here, and he'd have to keep killing them or releasing them onto the streets.

The inmates had all gone. One way or another. Only those who had been stolen by the City were released at first. Then Jack started to sneak others out. When he got bored with the sneaking, he just left the doors open. When there were still some left over from that, he started to shove them out. Some of them off of the roof. Some of them into the water. As long as they were gone, he didn't really care if they were alive or dead. Or roaming the city doing horrible things. Or babbling at unsuspecting citizens. He just wanted his asylum back.

The staff, that had been the more difficult part. They'd all been reluctant to go. He gave them an ultimatum. A rather strange one. They could leave, they could die, or they could work for him. He'd been surprised at how many of them had picked the last choice. Really, the first option had so little takers he hadn't known what to do with himself. But that middle pick, that one was the one with the most bodies to account for. The ones who had opted to do his dirty work had been clearing out the ones who wouldn't leave. He didn't want the bodies to pile in the courtyard again, even though that'd been fun. Burning another stack of corpses was just sort of begging for the kind of attention he wasn't ready for.

Not that killing a whole bunch of people was staying under the radar.

With no plans as of yet, Jack's goons were set to cleaning the place up. Mopping. Dusting. Getting rid of every trace of the people who had occupied the rooms. He even made them wash the walls. Just for good measure.

He would stay here, quiet, for a little while. Then go out and see about some havoc. See what he might destroy. Who he might rile up. For now, though, just having the Asylum all to himself was enough.

Though, where had Harley gone?

"No nononononono!" Jack shouted as he ran down the hallway. The staff weren't really very good at predicting his moods or what he would do and when he would do it. They constantly underestimated him, and more than occasionally believed him when he pretended to be catatonic. They would baby him sometimes when he babbled at them. He was kept in a straight jacket when they were at their best and most wary, but it wasn't often enough. His escapes from his room and their immediate care were many. But he never tried to escape the grounds.

Because this was his place. He'd owned it. He'd held a court here. He'd tormented the entire City with this as his home base. He didn't want to leave it. And having a whole bunch of people around just made it all the more fun for him. So he didn't want them to go either. Jack was really quite happy with the way that things were going. He even loved the games he played with the doctors, nurses, and orderlies. Well, truthfully, he loved those most.

Currently, the man known as The Joker was running down the corridor of the second level, heading toward the elevator or stairs, whichever would be quickest, and determined to get to the commons. He wanted to spend time with some of the other patients. See if he could get somebody riled up maybe. Insight a food fight, perhaps. Or just make somebody cry. He wasn't sure of his plan just yet.

Currently, the man known as The Joker was wearing a straight jacket, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He could feel the straps on the back that held the pieces of the jacket in place. He could hear the jingle of the buckles. He wouldn't be able to get out of it, he knew that. Not on his own. But maybe he could convince one of the others to help him. Promise them something. Even if it wasn't something that he could give.

Currently, the man known as The Joker was running down the hallway in a straight jacket and he had on no pants. They'd been helping him get ready for the shower when he'd broken free. Leaving the jacket on for the last possible moment. He'd slipped right by them then. They hadn't expected him to run around with no pants on, apparently. Jack didn't care. Sort of freeing, this not having any pants on.

There were three burly orderlies chasing him at the moment. He kept looking back at them to gauge the distance before they'd spring and tackle him to the floor. That was going to hurt. Probably a lot. Probably on parts of himself that he was going to wish he had pants covering.

"Nononononono!" Jack yelped, a large smile on his face. "Help! Somebody! Help! I need pants! Help! They took my pants!"

He whizzed by patients in wheelchairs, people coming to the doors of their rooms, confused nurses, and shocked doctors. He stuck his foot out at a guy with a walker, sending him sprawling and detaining the orderlies for a split second while they tried to decide if they should help the guy or go after Jack. It was just enough for him to get to the elevator which was just closing.

Jack turned and smiled at the other occupant. It wasn't quite a friendly smile.

HARLEY WAS QUEEN????

Jack stared at the television screen in disbelief. And anger. Lots of anger. He had spent years here doing his best to dismantle this city's structure and place himself into some kind of power. He'd been doing pretty well, too, hadn't he? They'd stopped trying to come after him, he was the proud owner and operator of Arkham. He had money. Goons and henchmen. He had fear of him flowing through the city's populace.

Harley shows up and mere months later somebody gives her a castle and makes her QUEEN?

That was highly unfair.
Uncalled for.
Unlikely.
Unhappy.

Clearly she had forgotten her place in the hierarchy of things. Clearly she needed to be taken down a couple of pegs. Queen. First he would find a way to make himself king. Then, with all that power, maybe he'd cut off her head. Like King Henry. Or maybe he'd just lock her up in a tower. Or maybe he'd just beat her into submission like he usually did. Queen.

Queen!

There was no excuse for this at all. None. He was the most criminal of the criminal element. He was the scariest of scary. He was the most mischievous of the mischievous. The cream of the crop, the cat's meow.

He was The Joker.

Jack was having a good time. He had his girl, he had his dogs - hyenas, whatever. He had his home. He had an entire city to play with. And to make it all so much better, he hadn't seen the Bat in weeks. He hadn't seen him at Wayne Industries, he hadn't seen him enter or leave the house during the three whole days he'd sat outside waiting.

The Bat was gone.

Jack picked some flowers out of the park and spent the day hopping around town, giving them to people. Sometimes the petals had been plucked off, sometimes they hadn't.

Wait until Harley heard, no more Bat.
Wait until the entirety of the City's underground heard, no more Bat!

Were there any superheros left in this place? Jack didn't know. He hadn't seen a costumed pansyfruit in a good long time. Perhaps now was the moment to snatch the City in the grip of some fear. Maybe he should spread the word that there was nobody left to stop them.

Oh yes.

He needed a drink.

He needed time.

He needed to redo everything and maybe be back on Serenity where none of this would have happened in the first place.

He needed to run.

Simon had left the fire by Serenity, a fire that would have been welcoming if he still felt welcome on the ship. It had been his home for a very short while, and he maybe he had hoped that he might be able to fit in; but, fate, destiny, whatever it was that seemed to control his life sometimes had other plans.

The good doctor didn't go home; he let the City take him wherever it wanted, and he was soon standing outside a building he had never seen before. He really wasn't surprised by this; the City did like to present new places to its inhabitants on occasion. He was also too emotionally exhausted to feel surprise. Although, he did wonder how he could have missed it. The tall dark building. He should have been able to see it from the Hospital, probably anywhere in the City actually.

Crossing the street and being careful of any cars rushing by - that'd been how he'd met George, she'd been hit by an oncoming car - he was soon standing at the front door to the building. There wasn't anyone in the lobby as far as he could tell; no, wait, a security guard. Just one security guard for such a big building. The structure reminded him a little of home, so clean and tall and modern. Without really thinking about it, he rested his forehead against the glass and stared at his reflection, what he could see if it around the "Wayne Industries" logo.

"And this is why you're a winner with the ladies. They love a man full of self-loathing."

Jack was more than a little disappointed that Harley hadn't appeared immediately after he'd left his note for her, because he'd really expected her to. And those two idiot henchmen hadn't returned either, though now that he thought about it, he was fairly sure he'd killed one of them, hadn't he?

There was only one thing left to do about it, really.

Find her himself.

Oh yes.

Jack set out into town, that's how he thought of it, going into town, as if he lived in some quaint little townhouse on the edge of a nice sunny field with daisies. Maybe some trees. Woodland wildlife prancing about happily while white smoke drifted lazily upward from the all brick chimney. Rocking chairs on the front porch, a porch that he'd made himself with his own two hands. There'd be a bird cage inside, too. Filled with chickadees. Or whatever those little fat ones were. And out back....

He shook his head, bringing himself out of the sudden daydream. Really. Prancing wildlife? That was so not his style. Headless wildlife, maybe. Especially if the 'wildlife' was people. Prancing, never.

Jack skipped around the streets, half wondering if he'd wander into that hulking tree of a female again, cause if he did, he was climbing her, and there was goddamned nothing she was going to say about it. He didn't care if she beat his ass to a bloody pulp after, that didn't matter. He'd laugh the whole time, cause it'd be worth it.

"HARL!" Jack stopped and screamed the name at the top of his lungs. It came out a little louder than he'd thought he was even capable of. Startled himself. Then laughed at himself.

Very few people were wandering around the streets. Probably cause it was late at night. Almost midnight, he figured. Those out were the derelicts and the druggies. His kind of people. Once in a while a happy looking couple walked together hand in hand, going home, or going to some late thingy. He bet not one of them had an explosive anything in their pockets. He did. He had several explosive somethings. He took one of them out. Ordinary looking glass marble, it was. But when he tossed it at a dumpster, it exploded loudly. Jack laughed.

"HARLEY QUINN!" He yelled it again, trying to be louder than the last time. It worked. It hurt his throat, but it worked.

It was fantastic.

It was almost better than the rampant zombies.

People everywhere, falling into gaga lovey land all over each other, everywhere he looked. Stupid googoo eyes on all the people he passed. All due to some hideous looking cherub. Firing arrows randomly.

He couldn't have done it better if he'd set it up himself, really. He could admit that.

Chaos.

Pure, beautiful chaos.

This did make it quite a bit more difficult to find Harley, though. There were throngs of people to search through, and all of them were moving around so much that her tiny cute little frame wouldn't really stick out unless she was in her red and black. He didn't think she'd be doing that with this many love sick folks milling about. At least, she'd better not. They might try to blame her, what with the colors.

He had to give it up for the time being. An unhappy thought. But he was content to just watch everything unfold. Laugh in the face of love. There was likely some way to cause a lot of mischief in all this. He'd have to give it some thought. It would be hard to put a cherry topper on this, though. It was so fantastic on it's own.

These people were falling in love with people they wouldn't normally be with, and that was pudding. Smooth, chocolate pudding. Aw. Harley. She called him Puddin all the time. Well. As soon as this was all done, he was going to find that girl. Yes he was. He'd been far too long without his Harl. Even if she did annoy the snot out of him a lot.

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled on, whistling.

I know you're out there.

I'm coming for you.