One Bad Day

Revealing Secrets

Joker's POV

I was standing in my lab when Frost came back with Ivy. Her eyes immediately narrow at me, "What is this Clown? I was told this concerns Harley. Where is she?" She just glares with her hands on her hips.

"It's nice to see you too Plant," I gleam, "and this is about Harley," I say motioning to a microscope.

She shrugs with great animation and detest, "Well?"

I look down into the microscope, "It seems that Harley is pregnant with my child..."

"WHAT?!"

I smile up at her, "Believe it or not, that was my first reaction too. But yes, I'm afraid it's absolutely true."

"Someone like you doesn't deserve to have children!" She shouts.

I rest my hands on the counter, "Be that as it may, I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, no pun intended. HaHaHa, ok maybe a little pun."

She folds her arms over her chest, "And what, exactly, do I have to do with this atrocity?"

"You get to help ensure that your dear friend Harley, has a stress free pregnancy and a healthy child," I say with a very straight and serious face.

"You really are crazy if you think I believe for a second that you care about this child!"

And that triggered something. I leap over the counter and wrap my right hand around her neck. "You don't know what I feel!" I growl. "You have no clue what is going on in my head!" I squeeze her throat tighter, "Don't you get it?! You're here because I care!!" I shove her away from me before I hurt her further.

"Ok, ok J, just calm down. Tell me why I'm here," she says cautiously.

I straightened my clothes, "Are you done insulting me? Cuz I'm really itching to hurt somebody," I glare at her and walk back to the microscope.

"Yes. I'm sorry," she nods. I could see that she was scared. Good. "I just don't understand where I fit into all of this."

"I need the expertise of Pamela Isley," I say removing the slide from the microscope.

"How so?" She curiously asks.

"I'm in need of some assistance in making an antipsychotic medication for me to take."

"An antipsychotic? Why? Are you trying to cure yourself?" She looks at me with a taunting smile. It makes me want to knock her teeth out.

"Don't be ridiculous. There is no cure for me. The drugs are to keep the tiger caged, so to speak. I'm concerned that I could be as much of a threat to the unborn child as my enemies could be. But medicated, I should be reduced to a tabby cat with a bad personality. I know you care about Harley and will do this for her. However, at the same time I will be giving you the information you need to take me down, should you ever feel the need."

"Oh?" She asks raising a brown.

I pull a knife from my waist and put the tip to my index finger and push down, causing it to bleed. "I know you have tried to figure out why your plant shit doesn't work on me. Well it doesn't work for the same reason that conventional medications don't work." I let a drop of my blood fall onto a microscope slide. Then I put it under the microscope and look into it. "The answer is in my blood. Have a look," I say and step away from the microscope.

Ivy looks at me warily and comes around the corner of the countertop. She stands over the microscope and looks into it. "How are you alive?" She questions. "Your white blood count is almost non-existent. And your red blood cells resemble sickle cell anemia."

"You're not looking good enough," I growl. I take the tip of my finger that's bleeding and touch the back of her hand.

"Ouch!" She screams and watches her skin start to burn. I grab a bottle of amonia and pour a little bit on the back of her hand. "What did you do to..." She starts to examine the red dot now on her skin. She looks at the amonia then at me. She bends over the microscope again. "All this time I thought you had created an antidote to my poison. But that's not the case at all, is it? I knew you were toxic waste, but you're...like me. You're poison. You just don't excrete it as I do. Your blood acts as an acid."

"That unusual substance among my platelets that you see is called PH760-9," I say, "are you familiar with it?"

"Failed pharmapsudical that some man created over two decades ago. It killed most of the test subjects in the clinical trials. Were...were you one of them?" She questions.

"Not exactly," I sigh. "I was never administered the medication itself. Instead, I did a nose dive into a vat of the stuff. I swallowed quite a bit. When I got out of the vat my clothes were just threads. My skin burned like it was engulfed in flames. I turned white. My brown hair went green. My brown eyes were bleached to blue. And the only drugs that can ever stand up to my blood stream is street drugs. Theoretically, I could shoot myself full of heroin everyday for the next nine months, but I don't think that will be doing anyone any good. So, Dr Isley, will you help me create an antipsychotic that can stand up to the toxins in my blood? One that will keep me...sedated, calm, and maybe shut up the voices in my head?"

She looks to be thinking it over a moment, "I'll do it for Harley. Does she know about this?"

"Yes. She is aware of the need for the medication. But there's more...this toxin in my blood is in Harley's blood as well. The concentration isn't as high, but...what will the presence of PH760-9, in her blood mean for the child? Can the child survive?"