Smooth Criminals: Harley x Joker Origin Story

Chapter 8: Toxins

I offered to pick Pam up from the airport, but she told me not to leave my apartment. That was probably a good idea given my state as Gotham's most wanted criminal.

The knock came and I bounded to the door. I opened it to her slender, pretty face and mane of red hair. She wore a striped tee and jeans and wheeled a piece of carry-on luggage.

I couldn't help smiling. Until that moment, I hadn't realized how much I missed my best friend.

She held up a jar. "This was sitting outside your door."

I took it slowly. It was vanilla pudding. A playing card had been attached to it with a rubber band. I unfolded it to find the Joker card from that first heist at the casino.

My eyes filled with tears.

"Ohhh no," said Pam.

Before I could protest, she snatched it from me.

"No!" I squeaked.

Pam snarled, opening the trash can. "Yes."

"This is him apologizing, Red!"

"He's manipulating you! Have some self-respect."

She dropped it in the bin. I clenched my fists, which sent a jolt of pain up both arms from my barely healed cuts.

She was right. I couldn't let a weak apology erase what Mister J had done to me.

When she turned back, her face softened. I must have looked like a sorry mess, with tears streaming down my cheeks and my hair a ball of frizz.

"Come here." She pulled me into a hug that smelled like perfume and flowers.

"Red, thank you—"

She shushed me.

I invited her to bring her luggage into my room and freshen up. I sat on the bed and listened while she told me about her trip over.

"Now, about our situation," she said. "I have a plan."

My insides squirmed. I checked the time. Seven o'clock. "Good, because I'm meeting him in three hours."

"Where?"

"The research facility."

She scoffed. "He wants to steal from the same place as before? Oh, that's brilliant."

"I tried to tell him."

"Whatever. Maybe the cops will arrest him—"

"He'll stick a hundred bullets in anyone who shows up. We need to get to him before they do."

Pam's long red hair fell over her shoulders as she rummaged in her bag, tossing clothes around. Something in her aura was more intense, harder than when I'd last seen her. And her appearance — was she taller? Curvier? More tanned?

"You seem... different," I said, unable to put my finger on it.

She faced me, pain flickering in her expression.

"Remember that cute prof I told you about?" she said after a hesitation.

"Yeah."

She went back to rummaging. "He turned out to be an asshole."

"Boy, what's wrong with our taste in men?"

"I don't know, but I've decided I'm done with men for a while."

I crossed my arms. "Me, too."

"Anyway, it worked out for the best," she said. "Come here so I can stab you with this."

"Excuse me?"

She held up a syringe. "I need to inject you with this so you aren't affected by the toxins we're going to use on your Mr. Joker."

Something must have changed on my face because she said, "Relax, it won't hurt."

I didn't move.

"Look, I've tested it thoroughly. I promise it's safe."

I sighed and stepped closer. She pulled back my sleeve.

I covered my eyes with my free hand and turned away. "Ew, ew, ew..."

"Done," she said.

The pain had been minimal, but I felt a lightness in my head at the thought of the needle.

She rubbed my arm with a soft, cool hand. "You all right?"

I nodded. She tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, studying my face.

"I should never have left," she whispered.

"This would've happened even if you'd stayed. Mister J and I are — were —"

"Don't say destined to meet, or some bull. He's a murderous psychopath and you deserve better."

"I'm just as wicked as he is."

"You're not. He made you this way."

I bit my lip. Maybe that was true. Maybe Mister J was the real psychopath here, and for all I knew, I was next on his hit list.

While Pam fixed her hair, I began applying my makeup for the evening. I already knew what I would wear: red and blue hot pants, thigh-high socks, and a corset. My sexiest outfit for our last evening out.

I hope you miss me, Mister J.

I stared at my reflection and worried Mister J would notice my uncharacteristic frown tonight. So I swept my reddest lipstick across my cheeks from ear to ear — giving myself a big, messy, bloody-looking grin. Better.

"Was your prof a murderous psychopath, too?" I said to Pam.

"No. But he did hurt me."

I spun and raked my eyes over her.

"Not like that," she said. "He wanted a student to help him with some experiments. I volunteered and... I mean, he was so charming, I thought..."

"But you realized he was using you for his own agenda."

She dropped her gaze. I recalled her saying that about Mister J and me. She'd been projecting. I should have picked up on that. I'd been too caught up in my own life to notice.

"I let him inject me with toxins," she said. "It nearly killed me."

"What did it do?"

She shrugged. "I can't figure it out. Something's wrong with my whole body chemistry. It's like my pheromones are toxic."

"Pheromones?"

"I have a weird effect on men."

When I continued to stare in confusion, she added, "Bad things happen when I touch them."

"Huh. In that case, would you do me a favor and give Mister J a big kiss for me?"

She smiled a little.

"To think," I said bitterly, "I thought he loved me."

Pam sat next to me and squeezed my shoulders. "I love you, Harleen. Unconditionally."

"Harley," I whispered.

She shook her head, laughing. "Fine. If I'm going to call you Harley, then you have to do something for me."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Call me Poison Ivy."

♦️

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