The Universe's Mixer

( 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.

"Oh, no way. Tell me you didn't forget your keys," Gary said, incredulously.

Roy scrounged around in his tunic. "Why is it always me who has to remember keys? Are your pockets filled with Twizzlers, or something? Anyway, I could swear I picked up the keys before we left the asylum."

"Come on. It's always been like this. You're the brains, I'm the muscle." In desperation, Gary tried jiggling the handle of the rooftop door, which barely elicited a rattle. "Jeez, what did they make this place out of? Adamantium?"

"It's a home for the criminally insane. It's supposed to be secured. No way in or out. Aw, crap! That jester chick stole my lockpicks, too!"

"Well hurry up and think of something. I gotta take a wicked dump." Gary was performing an improvised ballet.

"You and your pooping. You know, you wouldn't have to go so often if you ate something besides Nutty Bars. Why don't you just go over there?" Roy pointed to a far corner of the roof on which they stood.

"It's fucking freezing out here. I can't ... it won't ... I'm all secured."

"Well what do you want to do? Knock on the front door and hope the Joker takes pity on us?"

Gary considered this, silently.

"No! No!" Roy slashed at the air with a hand, cutting off the possibility. "We are not crawling back empty handed. That dude is a psycho. He will totally murder us. You didn't see his private stash. You didn't see the Batman and Robin robots. They were anatomically correct," Roy emphasized with horror. "And they were doing things to each other..."

"If we don't go inside right now," Gary threatened, "my intestines are going to explode out of my abdomen, and it'll be on your head."

"God. I hope not literally. All right, fine," Roy acquiesced. "But if the Joker murders me, it'll be on your head."

"I can live with that, as long as I get to poop in a real toilet.

The two henchmen landed on the pavement at the front gate of Arkham Asylum. Gary hammered insistently on the huge door with the butt of his silk gun.

He'd sent the henchmen out for something. He couldn't remember what now. He just wanted them the hell out of the asylum so he could have some time to himself. Which wasn't easy now, what with all the screaming and crying people who had been driven insane by the zombies. The whole place was filled with them. And he wasn't sure what to do with them. He sure as hell wasn't going to feed them. He wasn't even sure how they'd gotten in here.

Definitely before that nutball had impaled him with the thing that had given him life back. All of which he'd had to guess at by himself, because he'd woken up alone with a thing sticking out of him.

Still wearing the zombie makeup.

It was sort of a lot funnier now, that makeup.

Jack's head hurt. His body hurt. His face really really hurt, and he had no idea why. There was redness around his jaw and neck, but nothing more than that to tell him why there would be so much pain. The marks of redness where scratches and bites might have been on his body at one point didn't tell him much of anything either.

Everything felt like crap.

There were problems at hand. Things he should have tended to. But he was in no mood for it. No mood for any of it. He wanted all the other people to go away. Maybe they would starve to death soon. Or maybe he could get somebody to go and kill them all for him.

Where was Harley when you needed her?

Boyd found his way through the throngs of screaming people to a quiet space. Some place away from all the blood and death and pain. Away from the zombies and all the things that he wasn't used to.

Not that he was really thinking about any of that when he did it. He just felt drawn to the place in the park that he now stood. Felt like he needed to be there. Or should be there. Or whatever the equivalent emotion a brain fried walking corpse might have, if it might be called that.

He was only alone in the park for a few minutes. Or it might have been hours. Then they started to join him. One by one. Two by two. A dozen. All like him. If he'd cared about the smell, that alone might have driven him back into the streets looking for more squirming food.

But he didn't care. And neither did any of the others, apparently. They stood, staring blankly, just as he stared blankly. Moaning occasionally. Grouping together. Huddling, almost. Being in the park as one, together.

One might say, supporting one another.

( ooc info )

Jack was giggling to himself. This was going to be a riot. He'd been up for days working on this. First the idea had come to him while he'd been watching television in the rec room. He'd jumped up on the couch and bounced for a while before running around madly trying to gather all the things he'd thought he'd need. From makeup to clothing.

Then he'd started to put it all together.

It had all turned out more brilliantly than he could have ever imagined. And the people outside the walls of the asylum were going to run screaming in panic at the very sight of him. It was going to be his best prank ever. Oh, if only Punch and Judy were around. Or Harley. They would have joined in.

Jack tried out his look and role in the mirror for a while before leaving.

At the gates of Arkham Asylum, he got into character.

"Mrrrrrarrgh." He said, shambling toward a group of people. Just like he'd hoped, they screamed and turned direction. Beauty. He went forward again, hearing the sound of dozens of feet coming toward him.

What he saw was about nine people. All dressed like him. Jack felt the rage bubble up.

"YOU!" He screamed at them, stomping forward. "This was MY idea! You're RUINING MY PRANK!"

He shoved the first one he encountered. "I demand you stop now! Stop it right now!"

They started to crowd in on him. Each one moving slowly. Jack frowned. "Oh. So you think you can gang up on me, do you? I'll show you. I'll take you all on! You won't stand a chance. Hey. You're crowding back there. I don't know you well enough for that to be okay. Well, okay. It tickles. Do it again."

Then they started the biting. "HEY! Hey hey! That's just not nice! You guys have to stoaaaaaarrrrrrrg!"

The real zombies took the zombie-dressed Jack down to the ground until he stopped moving. When they were full, and he was dead, they shambled off in the next direction. Forgetting entirely about the man and even what he'd tasted like.

After a moment, Jack got up. A smile on his face. "Urr hurrr hurr hurr" it was a sick noise. Something like along the lines of possible laughter. But most of his throat and face were missing. Hard to laugh like that.

"Hurr hurrr hurr hurrr." Jack turned toward the center of the City and shambled off.

Catwoman went from rooftop to rooftop for as long as she possibly could.

She knew that she could get into trouble confronting The Joker.

She knew that he was dangerous, loved chaos and that she was a fool to go alone.

But dying made her realize that she wanted to talk to the man that had killed her daughter from another life.

She headed to the asylum, silently stalking her prey.

And then, far too soon, she was there. At the doors of the asylum. She took a deep breath. She had this planned. It was simple really, she was going to go through the front door.

That plan made her cringe. But she wasn't sure what else she could do. She had tired to watch the place, but not a lot seemed to happen. And to be honest, she'd gotten impatient.

So, she took her first step into a world that she wasn't comfortable with. But she wanted to know.

Jack woke up just the way he'd gone down.

Laughing.

There was some confusion as to where he was at first, and then he realized he was right where he'd died. In the alley. In a dirty, disgusting, filthy, rat riddled alley. There was humor in it, and of course some sadness. Nobody had moved his body.

Neat.

Jack pulled himself upward and thought about what had just happened. He'd died. He'd really, really and truly died. The only great adventure in life, and he'd done it now. And now he was alive again.

What did this mean?

Oh. This meant chaos. That's what this meant. This meant a revived desire to do horrible things to people all over the city and a need to make sure nobody slept soundly at night. It meant a renewed need to torment Bruce Wayne and the little boys he had sex with. Along with whomever else might have been prancing around in fancy bat-related costumes.

Jack caught his appearance in a broken shard of glass. Black hair cut in a mohawk. Eyeliner. Black suit. It was nice, but he felt something was missing. Something that had always been him. Maybe, just maybe, for a while he'd go back to the purple. The makeup. The green. Just for a little bit, to remind the good citizens of this fair city what they should be afraid of.

Clowns.

And himself of course.

And everything that had anything to do with purple. And smiley faces.

His first task was to break into a store and find himself a lovely dark purple suit. Then break into another one and find himself some whiteface and other makeup. It was quite handy that there was a gentleman's clothing store right next to a costume shop.

His next task was to get home and find those lovely butterfly shaped henchmen he'd acquired himself before his death.

Jack burst in through the front doors of the asylum with a big smile on his face.

"Boys!" He yelled. "Daddy's home!"

The City gives what you need. The City takes away.

Or rather, *I* take away because the City tells me so. The night is dark and I track the first one, the first of many, and answer to the question.

He likes to cause trouble, this Jack, Jack with the makeup and evil laugh and evil plots.

The knife is solid and firm in my hand as I walk up quick behind him. Does he sense me, it matters not. He can't run far enough for me not to chase. Blood with flow in the City, blood with run through the streets.

The street is dark save the street lights and the knife came out. The glint of the shining blade extended from my hand as I invaded his personal space though I stayed to the shadows. "Jack...." the breathy whisper came behind him, the edge of the knife brushing his back. "Such a jokester, the funny guy. Green and white and red all over."

"That totally sucked!" moaned 24, tying his glove around his leg to stop the bleeding from his gunshot wound.

"Oh, yeah, boo hoo," 21 scoffed, peering out of the dark alley where they hid. "Why don't you cry into that giant assload of cash we just stole."

"Giant ass...? There's like four hundred bucks in here! I can't even get my leg treated for that kind of money."

"Well, don't get shot at so much, Ow! Hey, that was metal!" 21 rubbed the back of his shoulder where the rusty aluminum support bar had struck him. "Okay, okay, so we screwed up. Maybe we do need some help in the planning department. I still say we're a force to be reckoned with, and any villain with half a brain will recognize that. We just need to get out there again, make a name for ourselves, and then ..."

"Then what? How is a villain going to find us, genius? We wear masks specifically so nobody knows who we are." 24 began counting the bills in the bag.

"I don't know. Maybe we take out an ad in the local alt-weekly. Damnit! I wish the Monarch was here." 21 slumped against the wall next to 24 and picked up another stack of bills. "Man, you're right. We didn't get crap."

"I know. We suck big time."