Joker's Wilde Pt. 04

For years, we could have passed one another by on the streets and not even known it.

"Scared a lot of cold fuckers shitless when he rolled back into Gotham last year. Formed a crew with the lowest of the low. The throat cutters of the cutthroats. He was back for one thing and one thing only."

"Oh yeah? And what was that- -to kill your sorry ass?"

"No. For you. He came back for you, Harley Quinn. And he's got you in spades. You two always were a little too chummy for brother and sister."

"Like father, like son."

"He set it all up, you know- with the help of Crane. Your internship, his committal to Arkham, even that clever escape - all his doing. He set you up." Frank waited for the information to sink in for her; though none of it was very surprising at this point. "I guess he sent you here to make sure you were really all in."

"No. See, if I was here just because the Joker told me to, your walls would be sprayed with blood already. This, Daddy Dearest, is personal." Harley Quinn gave him a sharp punch in the balls for good measure, then went to check on dessert. "It's almost hot enough," she observed, stirring the viscous goop with a wooden tongue depressor.

"Why don't you go ahead and shoot me? My gun's right over there. I don't know what else to fucking tell you. I'm a son-of-a-bitch and I treated you like shit. But look at you now- forged in fire. You're young; you're a doctor, not to mention one of the hottest asses on this side of the Liberty.

"You could find a rich man and be happy. You kill me and your future is history. You follow your brother down the path to hell and you're gonna get fucked by the Devil. Face it, Harley Quinn- you're bringing knives to the ultimate gun fight."

"You just saw for yourself: I can dodge a bullet. But if I get close enough to stab you, ain't no way you're gonna dodge that. And I just saw for myself that a man who holds a gun gets lazy. A man who holds a gun can afford to be a coward. But there's no room to relax when you're on a razor's edge, is there?" Harley inquired, tapping the seam of his jeans with her razor.

"How did the good Doctor tear down the wall he built in your head anyway? Did he snap his fingers? Say a magic word? Or was it more invasive?" sneered Frank.

"Why don't I show you?" Harley stashed the blade and flipped her father over on his stomach, repositioning him over the arm of his recliner. She pulled down his jeans and tidy whities to expose his pasty ass. "As I suspected," she tsked, parting his cheeks to expose his hairy anus. "We'll have to take care of this jungle first, puddin'."

"You're sick, you know that! If you leave me alive I swear to God I'm gonna-" the rest of his words were muffled by his own underwear being shoved into his trap.

Harley whistled the same 1960's movie melody she'd performed earlier. She retrieved the pot from the stove and the other necessary implements, cleared off the side table with one sweep of her arm and set up her work station. The last F-note trilled and died away.

"Now- this might burn," she warned, smearing a steaming hot dollop of wax down each side of his crack. Harley pressed down the white strips of cloth until they'd adhered completely to his skin. "And this is definitely gonna sting like a mothafucka." She yanked both strips off at the same time, leaving behind two smooth rectangles where drops of blood began to well up like tears.

Frank's screams gurgled in his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't give you any warning," she said, preparing his ass for another round. "How about I pull on the count of three? One, three!" Rip! Another pair of furry strips was thrown to the floor. "Silly me- must have forgotten how to count. Let me try that again."

Harley continued man-scaping her father until there was only one patch of pubes remaining in the middle of an angry red diamond. By this time she'd had to reheat the wax so it would be nice and hot for just this moment. Making sure to coat the area on and around his puckered hole quite thoroughly before applying the last strip, she could see Frank's gluteus muscles tightening in anticipation.

"I'll count down for this one. Three, two, two and a half, two and three-" Rip!

"Hmmgghughhh!"

"And we're done!" Harley Quinn said brightly. She took out a bottle of baby oil from her bag of tricks and drizzled some over his blotchy cheeks. Frank threw his head back at the combination of soothing and agonizing sensations. Paying careful attention to his naked anus, Harl spread the sweet smelling oil until he was glistening with lubricant. With her non-greasy hand, Harley pulled another long weapon from her other boot- a sizable dildo used for pegging.

"Now is this the biggest cock you've ever seen or what?" She waved the phallus in front of his face so he'd know what he was in for. Harley unzipped the discreet crotch slit of her suit and dug around her wet folds.

With her fragrant, leather-baby-oil-and-cunt-juice-covered digits hovering in front of his nostrils, she purred, "Do you smell this, Daddy-O? This is what a real woman smells like. Enjoy while you can, because after tonight you won't even be able to fuck yourself."

After lubricating the end opposite from the molded cockhead, she impaled herself on the fat bulb until it was securely lodged in her snatch. Harley moaned loudly, stroking the dildo with an oil-slicked hand.

"Alright, puddin'. I'm going to fuck your little virgin asshole and there's not a thing you can do about it," she said silkily.

"Hmm ughh hmmuuffh!"

"What was that?" his daughter asked, unceremoniously plunging the thick dildo head into his holiest of holies.

"Hggghhhh!" was his strangled reply.

"That's what I thought, bitch!"

Harley stretched his shy sphincter a bit by developing a slow, steady rhythm of slamming all the way in before pulling almost all the way out again. Every pound sent a shockwave of pleasure into Harley Quinn and a stab of pain into Frank. Increasing to a merciless pace now, she detached a leather slapper from her belt and began teasing his abused cheeks with light thwacks. It seemed to add another dimension of pain to his sodomizing. The closer buggering her father brought her to coming, the fiercer Harley's strikes became. Welts rose up to the surface.

"I'm gonna cum, puddin'. I'm gonna cum fucking your ass," she grunted, feeling the tension mount in her uterus. "Oh fuck! Yes! Yes! Yesssss!!"

An orgasm wracked Harley to the core, almost causing her to collapse against her father's back. But she didn't want her tits pressed against his sweaty flesh. Rolling her hips around until the aftershocks subsided, she finally pulled out of his well-reamed asshole. Harley stalked around the recliner to the side where his head was, covered in sweat and tears. Frank was still sobbing. Pathetic.

With infinite compassion, she removed his underwear from his mouth and used it to dab his damp face. He tried to spit at her, but his phlegm landed harmlessly on his own floor.

"Still haven't learned your lesson, I see."

"Fuck. You."

"How about a shit dick for your shit mouth, old man?" Harley asked, shoving the dildo between his lips and down his throat. "Lick it clean." Frank gagged repeatedly, tears streaming down as she fucked his throat. One red gloved hand gripped his graying hair as she rutted even harder. Another orgasm was building. Harley used two fingertips on her clitoris to bring it up to the surface where it rippled out on still waters.

When she pulled the dildo out of his throat, Frank was slobbering and coughing. Once he was able to speak, his voice was laced with desperation. "Fucking Christ just let me go, Frances. I'll leave Gotham- whatever you want, Frances. Please!"

"Frances is gone, dumbass. I'm Harley Quinn. And I'm just getting warmed up."

Nearly an hour later, Harley Quinn had to thoroughly clean her razor before stowing it back in its holster. Even her cane needed a wiping down. She locked her father's door before leaving him in peace; more peace than he'd ever known. One advantage to living in the Narrows was no one seemed alarmed at anything- gun fire, bloodcurdling screams, even a maniacal looking Harlequin cartwheeling and back-flipping around, laughing heartily at her greatest performance to date.

Harley was so elated that she nearly skipped past a trio of rubber-masked clowns without a second glance. Stopping in her tracks, she watched two of them force a homeless woman to the wall while the third positioned himself between her legs. The woman was sobbing but not shouting for help. She'd opted to surrender without a fight.

"Hi ya, gents," the curvy clown called out to them, leaning casually on her cane. "Enjoying yourself this evening?"

The one with his meat stick out turned to her. "Well, well, well," he said, returning his dick in his pants. "Look at this boys. A Joy Girl. Come to join the party, sweetheart?"

"Honey, I am the party." Harley Quinn came closer. The woman pinned against the wall stared at her with more fear than she had for her masked assailants. "Let her go."

"You wanna take her place?" laughed the ringleader. "Don't worry- you'll get your turn!" He reached out to grab her by the arm but Harley struck him across the face with her cane before he made contact. The homeless woman screamed, struggling against her captors.

"I said, let her go," repeated Harley, not even glancing behind her as she smacked the prone clown upside his head as he slashed at her ankles with his knife. The other two must have known she meant business: they released the woman, but she merely slumped to the ground, paralyzed by fear

.

Harley tossed a set of keys at her and said "There's a little white car on the corner of 5^th and Morrow. Take it. Go!" she yelled. The woman took one look at Harley with wide eyes- a surge of purple triumph taking over her morose grey gloom- and ran off, clutching the keys with both of her hands.

Meanwhile, the clown on the ground had risen with a gun in hand. Harley stunned him, kicked the dropped weapon down the alley, and hit the other clown with the baton as he lunged forward. Using her blackjack and cane, she fended off the three men with ease. Their moves were clumsy and predictable, no match for her agility or strength. Finally, the weaker two decided they'd met their match and hightailed it.

"Hey fuckers! Are you really gonna run away from this bitch!" their leader yelled after them.

"Just you and me now, Joy Boy," she cackled.

"You're making a big mistake, cunt. I'm tight with the Clown Prince himself." His voice was confident, but a tremor in the hand brandishing his weapon said otherwise.

"You mean the Joker? Good. Because I need to have a word with His Highness. Tell me where he is."

"Wh-wh-what?" he stuttered, backing away as she stepped closer.

"T-t-t-tell me where the J-j-joker is before I cut off your b-b-b-balls!" In a flash, Harley had taken his knife and was digging it into his crotch.

"You're her," he whispered. "You're his sister, aren't you? Fuck- I didn't know. He said you'd be looking for him. I'm s-s-sorry! I'll take you myself." She'd backed him up until he was flush against the building.

"Not a good feeling, is it? Being at the mercy of some sick fuck when your back's against the wall. Not knowing if they're just gonna have some fun with you or if they're gonna slit your throat and watch you bleed out."

"G-g-geroldy's Amusement Mile," he blurted. "The Fun House- the Joker's in the Fun House!"

"Now was that so hard?" She tossed his dull knife down the alley.

"Are you gonna let me go?"

"Of course, of course. Go about your merry way, little clown." Harley made a sweeping gesture back to the streets.

"O-o-kay," he stammered, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

"But not without a parting gift."

The last thing he remembered was Harley lifting her cane above her head.

Chapter Eight: Sibling Rivalry.

Seeing as how she'd essentially donated her old car to a charity, Harley Quinn felt no remorse in stealing the first decent vehicle she came across. And this one so happened to be a silver Jaguar F-type with a vanity plate proclaiming "C0LD0N3". When she barely touched the gleaming metal roof, the car flipped out; flashing its headlights and sounding an alarm. Fuck! Why can't you just shut up and open up!

As if that plea transmitted directly into the car's computer, it went silent. All the doors unlocked with one resounding click. Harley whipped around, sure that she'd see the owner approaching. The street was empty- but for a stray cat eying her suspiciously.

Thank you, Ragman...

"Scat, cat," she muttered, opening the driver's side door

.

"Mrrrow!" the cat mewled derisively, sitting down on the sidewalk to groom its ass.

The V8 engine growled to life with another mental command, sending a jolt of exhilaration into her very crotch. So this is the appeal of a powerful car... The cat arched its back and dashed away. Harley switched to manual override so she could enjoy every moment of her Valkyrie's flight.

Built in the 1920's by William Geroldy, the amusement park literally spanned a mile along the seastrand. For decades it was the most popular attraction on the East Coast; but as Gotham shifted closer to the riverside, everything on that end of the Trigate bridge slipped into oblivion and became dubbed The Wastelands: Home of Ace Chemicals, Gotham's Light and Power Station, The Monarch Playing Card Company, S.T.A.R. Labs and, of course, Geroldy's Amusement Mile. Its air had turned thick with fumes and the land had become barren from all of the toxic waste. An apropos location for the Joker's hideout.

As she sped past Arkham, Harley recalled the barbaric experiments being conducted in its basement. She wondered if the Sinner Whore was directing them in the Scarecrow's absence. Looming ahead was the island of industrial edifices, their smoke stacks blinking eerily through the miasma of muddy-orange haze. When she approached the epicenter of the polluted Otisberg District, more lights appeared like beacons in the smog; many of which seemed to be moving.

Geroldy's Amusement Mile was alive tonight- Ferris Wheel and carousel spinning; Roller Coaster whooshing by; Tilt-A-Whirl a tilting at breakneck speed. There was even the faint smell of buttered popcorn and spun sugar, the sound of calliope music and an organ grinder, drifting along in the salty breeze. So many of the letters have fallen away over the years that the sign over the grand entrance looked like a mouth missing too many teeth; it could now be read as "GOD'S A SMILE".

Harley Quinn passed underneath it warily, scanning the deserted park for its diabolical carnies. No one welcomed her to step right up, or seemed to be running any of the vacant rides or concession stands. But she could feel the eyes on her; see the faint wisps of auras skittering between the shadows.

On instinct, Harley followed a sinister cackling until she reached its source- a giant motorized Jester's head that was the entrance to the Fun House. Its gaping maw was a spinning red and white tunnel that occasionally closed when the clown paused to grin; his eyes rolling around in their metal sockets.

"Ha ha ha! A hee hee hee! Ha ha ha ha!"

The timing wasn't particularly difficult, but Harley watched the Jester laugh and smile repeatedly, wondering what would be in store. Steeling her will, she tumbled through the rabbit hole. When Harley stood up she noticed a red balloon floating to her right. There was a tag tied on the curly string: Take a good look at yourself, Harley Quinn.

Cute. She slid through a series of foam covered rollers, and climbed a set of crooked, sliding stairs until she found the Hall of Mirrors. An infinite number of Harley Quinn's stared back at her from all angles; stretched, squashed, wavy, convex and concave. On one of the flat mirrors was the message You might as well face the music scrawled in red greasepaint. The mechanical calliope must be housed here somewhere- she'd seen the steam rising from the back of the funhouse.

When she found the brass pipes whistling their merry melody, Harley saw one of them had a cord tied to it with a tag attached. "Pull" was typed on one side and "Don't Look Down" on the other. What the hell... Puzzling over this odd request, Harley pulled the pipe down by the cord and immediately realized her error. A trapdoor dropped open beneath her and she fell straight down onto a mattress. To her chagrin, it was in the middle of a cage.

The small space was warmed by the boiler operating the calliope above. Animals must have been caged inside as an attraction at one point; it still smelled faintly of hay, dung, and urine. It was one hell of a greeting compared to what Harley Quinn had been expecting.

"Ho, ho, ho- I wouldn't try that if I were you! You might find a nasty shock in store," laughed the Joker, dancing out of the shadows and into the spotlight. Harley lowered her hands, thinking better of rattling the cage.

"Very funny. Is this all the thanks I get for setting you free?"

"As you no doubt have learned already, I was only in Arkham by choice. But even so, surely performing an act of kindness is thanks enough," he said, shaking an admonishing finger at his sister. He too wore a pair of gloves- purple. And they went splendidly with his fine four-piece suit, complete with a large pink flower stuck in a buttonhole.

"You're looking dapper, brother," she observed, lying down on her side instead of balancing in heels on the squishy surface.

"Harley Quinn, you are a sight for these sore eyes. I can't help but notice just how sharp you've become. Not planning on doing anything that I would do, are ya?

"

"Why don't you let me out of this cage and find out. Unless you're too scared of little ole' me?" she teased.

"Seeing you in that cage does have a profound effect on me- but I'd hardly call it fright. I find you so disarming that I really think you should go ahead and disarm yourself before I can let you go."

"Fair enough." Harley Quinn unbuckled her belt and slid it from around her waist while he watched. Then she unclipped her thigh holsters, arm bands, shoulder harness, the short knife concealed on her right wrist and the auto-front razor on her left. She even added the dildo to the pile after tossing on the stiletto from her boot, which elicited a wry laugh from the Joker.

"Use that on Daddy, did you? Naughty girl," he growled. "A girl as naughty as you needs to take off everything before I'll believe you don't have at least one trick still hidden up your sleeve."

"Is that the only reason you want me to undress?" Harley Quinn asked slyly, unzipping her boots before kicking them off. "Or did you want another look?"

"What can I say: I like to watch."

"Did you tell Crane to rape me or was that his idea?"

"You had to be broken before you could be fixed. I wish there'd been another way." He appeared unusually sincere about this statement.

Harley now lowered the zipper in the front of her suit. The Joker licked his lips furiously in anticipation. "What about the serum? How did you know I could tolerate it? I nearly died," she pouted, unzipping the sleeves and ankle slits as well.

"Because I..." he began, but found himself too distracted to finish his sentence. Her plump breasts had popped out as she freed her arms. Then she lifted her ass up to peel the suit down to her thighs and off her legs.

"Yes?" Harley said sweetly, placing the leather shell on top of her armory. "Because you survived it? That's what we call anecdotal evidence. Do you know who made it? Is that how you knew for sure?" The only thing remaining on Harley's nubile body was a pair of bright red gloves, and they were currently exploring her breasts.