He didn’t even hear her as his manic blue eyes settled on the screen. The words were hollow. Preliminary reports confirm only one casualty: Bruce Wayne, now known to the world as Batman.
No. No that couldn’t be right. If he were dead… why was Joker still here? How could Batman be gone and Joker was still here? It wasn’t possible was it? Not to exist without the other half of your soul. A giggle bubbled up out of his chest, a high pitched and terrifying little thing. Another followed it, and suddenly he was laughing. For a solid minute, Joker cackled. It was the kind of reaction that did not make sense, even for the Joker. But he couldn’t be alone. He couldn’t be without the person who gave it all meaning.
Harley’s voice was ringing in his ears, high and piercing as she tried to offer him pithy possibility. He was still giggling.
Harley was so light. It was easy at this point. Too easy. If Joker were in a better place, even he might have winced, but he didn’t. Not as he lifted her and threw her into the television. The electronic and Harley Quinn crashed to the floor, but the insipid reporter still spoked, albeit in a distorted voice. The laughter bubbled out again before he gave a cry, full of anguish and ending on a hysterical note. Just by Harley’s shoulder, two shots from his pistol rang out. Just an inch to the left and the Clown Queen would have her brains spattered all over the wall behind them. But Joker had instead settled for mechanics and pieces of plastic as he blew the television away before turning abruptly. Studying the pistol in hand, he felt his chest tighten up as he pressed the barrel to his own temple, cocking his head. “Button button,” he said quietly, finger wavering on the trigger.
Batman was dead, and Joker should be with him. They were destined for that. They were meant to be tied up. All knotted around each other like a balloon animal.
Each sound, every little giggle, made Harley’s breath catch as she watched him. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she found herself eager for it. Not fearful. She wanted to experience his reaction in spite of what would follow it, because it meant she was part of it. After spending so much time on the outside looking in, the idea of being part of Joker’s ever-obsessive focus on the Batman was exciting.
She hadn’t given much thought to what a world without Batman would be like. It seemed ripe with possibility - to her, that is - and the thought made her heart race. The biggest hurdle would be to get Joker on board with this new world, especially after so many years of Batman being his singular focus. Harley hated Batman sometimes because of it, for occupying every little corner of his mind until she was squeezed out, shoved aside, or left to rot in Arkham. Waiting. Was this what she was waiting for? A world with the Batman?
There was no time to react, to even stop herself from striking the television with the full weight of her body, and she felt it shatter. Even after crashing to the floor she remained still, surrounded by tiny little pieces of the display that came lose from its large spiderwebbed crack. The shots were loud and made her jump, but Harley waited with bated breath, a small whimper catching in her throat so she wouldn’t interrupt the silence. She knew when to push and she knew when to wait.
But she couldn’t stay quiet and still when she saw him turn the gun on himself. Finally Harley moved, inching forward so the glass crunched underneath her elbows. “Puddin’, wait! Ya can’t!”
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