Must Love Hyenas

23: The Scowl Behind the Cowl

Clouds of laughing gas billowed through the lobby, and initial screams of fear and panic quickly turned to fits of hysteria as the employees succumbed to the effects. Only when the gas began to dissipate, and it was safe to enter without being affected, did Harley and Joker come through the revolving door.

Spacious, modern, and cold, the entrance area for Wayne Enterprises had a futuristic look with pillars of matte gray trimmed with flashing accents of reflective silver. Black marble covered floors in a display of obvious wealth. Balcony railings of clear glass on the upper floors allowed an unobstructed view down to the lobby from any floor.

Because of her medical training relating to the workings of the human mind, Harley understood the reasoning behind the design as it could make visitors feel small and insignificant, an added bonus when dealing with competing companies. Joker simply whistled an appreciation for the amount of time and money put in to creating the opulent space.

"Somebody's been raking in the cash," Joker remarked. He fixed his attention on the secretary behind the welcome desk. She was trying to control her outburst of humor, both hands covering her mouth, but she was failing. "Tell me, where can I find Bruce Wayne?"

"He had a skiing accident," the woman replied before laughing about it as if it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. She gasped for breath, tears in her eyes, before managing to say, "He's resting at home."

"Harley," Joker said as he turned toward her. "This stuff works like truth serum. Are we sure Wilkins didn't mix anything else into it?"

"From the way he explained it to me, the gas overloads the brain," Harley replied. "It mass produces the neurochemicals related to humor. When people laugh, they relax and their guard goes down. Because everything is funny, their minds never raise any mental defenses."

"Why don't you pay Wayne a visit?" Joker suggested. "I'm going to have a look around here for anything useful."

"Have fun," Harley told him, giving Joker a quick peck on the cheek.

***

Harley knocked on the door of the great mansion and blew a bubble with her gum while waiting for the door to be answered.

The lock disengaged with a loud click before the heavy door was slowly pulled back. A white haired man in a formal suit and tie of flawless black answered the door, a mustache and serious expression on his face.

"Hey there, Mr. Butler," Harley offered in greeting. "I'd like to talk to Bruce Wayne."

"There are many who would like to do so," the butler replied in a polished accent. "However, his time is limited, so I wish you a good day."

Before he could shut the door, Harley stuck her foot in the way and halted the wooden partition in place.

"Just a second there," Harley stated in a less playful manner. "I said I wanted to see Bruce Wayne, and you're going to let me do so because I got a message from the Joker. Either I deliver it, or the Joker will send the message to Wayne strapped to the end of a rocket. May I come in now?"

"Right this way," the butler relented, stepping back and allowing her entrance.

"Thanks," Harley offered sweetly as she skipped across the threshold and into the foyer of the grand house.

The butler vanished into the depths of the house in order to announce her arrival, giving Harley a chance to study the place. The wood floors were polished to a mirror finish and looked as smooth as ice. Stone archways with sculpted doors to her left and right led into rooms with bookcases, vivid rugs, and expensive looking furnishings. A wide staircase led up to the next level where a wood-pillared balustrade guarded the edge of the second floor around the width of a massive chandelier handing from the ceiling.

The snap of Harley's gum echoed slightly while she waited for Bruce Wayne to appear. She didn't have to wait long as the billionaire arrived after only a few moments, slowly gliding into the room in a motorized wheelchair. Bandages marked his face and hands while a cast covered his right arm from wrist to elbow. His left leg was also encased in plaster. A brace circled his neck and made his speech awkward as it kept his mouth from opening fully.

"I understand you're rather insistent on seeing me," Bruce stated. It wasn't a question.

Harley caught herself staring. Even in his injured state, she found him quite handsome. Dark black hair, firm jaw, piercing blue eyes and enough muscle he couldn't hide it even in the thick robe he was wearing. Although momentarily distracted, she was well practiced with getting the conflicting thoughts of her mind focused on what she wanted.

"Joker's expanding into the business market, and we need your corporation," Harley explained simply, blowing another bubble with her gum. Although she looked around casually, she kept an occasional eye on Bruce, watching for a reaction.

"I'm afraid my injuries don't leave me in the best mood for jokes," Bruce denied.

"Jokes are what Mr. J and I do," Harley reminded. She reached into the bag hanging from her side because she didn't have pockets in her jester outfit, and retrieved a small spray bottle with green fluid in it. When she pointed it toward Bruce, a pen thrown like a dart struck the container and knocked it from her hand. Looking in surprise, she saw Bruce with his good hand outstretched toward her.

Harley was startled as she hadn't been expecting resistance from the billionaire, let alone from a man in multiple casts sitting in a wheelchair. Her eyes narrowed as she appraised the man before her, questioning everything she thought about him. She started noticing things.

Bruce was supposed to have been in a skiing accident, but the bruising under the bandages on his face didn't match. If he collided with a tree, some abrasions from the bark should've been present, but there were none. The bruised knuckles on the hand not wrapped in a plaster cast looked like he'd been in a fist fight. She wondered what Bruce Wayne might be doing that would cause him to lie about where and how he'd been injured. She thought he might have a second life he didn't want the public knowing about.

The brief idea triggered a string of others that raced like a burning fuse through her mind before exploding in an impossible conclusion. The broken bones Wayne had sustained would match perfectly with what Batman might've received during his fight with Bane. Harley's eyes went wide. Her shock was so intense, she almost swallowed her gum.

"You're the scowl behind the cowl!" she practically shouted. "You're Batman!"